One unique thing about creative careers is that there’s never a real "arrival." There’s no moment to lean back and say: done, everything’s in place. There’s always a new project, a fresh idea, a new direction to try. Sometimes it’s tough, but there’s a reason I chose this path: I love this kind of mental challenge, I thrive on exploration, and I welcome the hurdles.
This is how I operate. There’s always something I’m working on, building, hoping to succeed with. But these projects don’t always move at the same pace. Some quickly reward the energy I put in—while others mostly just consume time and money for now.
One of my current projects is exactly like that. It means a lot to me, I believe in it, but financially, it’s more of an investment than a source of income at the moment.
Recently, during a half-business, half-friendly lunch, someone offered me an opportunity that could have really boosted this project. It was financially attractive, coming from someone far more experienced and influential than me—someone who clearly knows how to turn ideas into money.
Rationally, saying yes might have made sense. But there was a problem. The opportunity they outlined just didn’t align with the spirit I built this project on. With what I want it to stand for.
The more I listened, the stronger the feeling grew that saying yes would mean selling out what I’ve built so far. Not just making money, but making money at the cost of compromising my core values.

Saying No Wasn’t Easy
Across the table sat someone who’s likely witnessed far more business success up close than I have. Someone who knows exactly what can be turned into money and what the price is. My argument—that I don’t want to make money at any cost from the community I’ve built online—probably sounded sentimental or idealistic rather than rational to them.
I get that perspective, honestly. I just can’t—or rather, won’t—make it my own.
In the end, I stuck to my beliefs. The collaboration didn’t happen, and my project still isn’t making money. In fact, it’s still mostly costing me.
Since then, I’ve sometimes wondered if choosing the other path might have been easier. If I weren’t working alone on a clearly multi-person task from my couch at home, but maybe planning a vacation instead.
But whenever I think it through, I always come back to the same conclusion. Maybe my project will only succeed in the long run, or maybe it never will bring financial gain. In that sense, it could even be a failure.
But I’d probably cope better with failure than with the thought that I lent my name to something I can’t truly stand behind.
Because while walking this path, I’m building something I truly believe in. Something important to me. Something I can proudly sign my name to once it’s finished and truly works.
Others might not see this yet. I might have to walk this road alone for a while. But if I have to choose between faster success and authenticity, I’ll choose the latter every time. Even if it means walking alone and being called crazy for not quitting at the first stop.











