Ever feel like every hobby you enjoy eventually turns into a job? You pick up a brush, a camera, or a open your sketchbook just to unwind, and before long someone’s asking, “You should sell that.” It’s flattering. Maybe even exciting. But I’ve learned—sometimes the hard way—that turning your hobby into a money-making side hustle can quietly steal the very reason you started it in the first place.
This hit me hardest during the years I spent as a commission miniature painter. What began as a relaxing, creative escape turned into deadlines, difficult clients, and eventually, burnout. The joy of painting—of just being in the moment, zoning out with my models—was slowly replaced by pressure. Expectations!
So here’s my take on why you might want to keep your hobby money-free, even if you could make a little extra on the side.
1. Money Puts a Price on Your Peace
The moment you start getting paid, time becomes a calculation.
When I was painting on commission, I’d sit down at my desk and catch myself thinking, How many hours is this going to take? Is this rate even worth it? I wasn’t thinking about the color scheme or enjoying the process. I was watching the clock.
Adding money into the equation, literally placed my efforts on a spreadsheet. And, that governed the process. The math anchored the freedom to explore. I was a ship that could not sail until its cargo hold was full. Worse, I was destined to travel in the straightest line possible.
Hobbies are supposed to free us from this mindset. When money enters the mix, it changes how you experience your time. And that change can be subtle—until one day you wake up and realize the thing you used to love now feels like work.
2. Do You Really Want Another Job?
Even if you love your hobby, ask yourself this: do you want another boss, another inbox, another queue of people expecting something from you?
A painter, a photographer, whatever artist you are, a revenue stream adds pressure.
As a commission painter, I dealt with every kind of client—from the chill to the nit-picky. And no matter how relaxed the project started, I was always on the hook. I had a list of needs, wants, and of course that was OK. It was a project I was being paid to do.
But, there was a delivery date. There were expectations. There was always one more tweak. Maybe.
While many clients allowed me the freedom to play, to grow my skill by experimenting with something that fell within the scope of their requested color scheme, I was painting what someone else paid me to create. This does make a difference.
Suddenly, you’re a vendor.
3. Even Passive Income Isn’t Pressure-Free
Let’s say you’re not doing commissions. Maybe you’re just posting photos of your work, selling a few prints or affiliate products. That feels easy, right?
But even that creates invisible pressure. If your social post doesn’t get enough engagement, or your monthly income dips, you wonder: Did I do something wrong this month? Do I need to post more? What is my competition doing that I missed?
I think a lot of influencers burn out because they continue to create for others rather than themselves. They ignore all the guardrails that once kept their hobby joyful—like boundaries, rest, and personal intention—and replace them with algorithms, deadlines, and audience demands.
Suddenly, the part of your life that used to be an escape becomes another algorithm to appease. I’ve been there. It’s a quiet creep, but it’s real.
How much money is enough? Would there be a point where you would just stop and enjoy what you’ve built?
I’ve asked myself that. More than once.
At one point, even my miniature painting sessions revolved around return-on-investment (ROI). I’d sit down to paint a Skaven model and think: Can I turn this into a tutorial? Maybe capture some B-roll of that new airbrush for a gear review? Before I knew it, my entire hobby was broken down into content chunks.
That constant thinking—of angles, returns, and strategy—drained me. It left little room for joy. And almost no room for surprise.
4. What’s the Money For, Anyway?
When I made money from painting, I often used it to buy more supplies or tools. But over time, that turned into a cycle: I was painting for income, to buy more gear, to take on more jobs… It became self-perpetuating labor.
I had more stuff than time. More unopened supplies than finished models.
It turned into a loop: I painted to earn money, to buy gear, to paint more for someone else.
Even if you tell yourself the money’s “just for fun,” it comes with strings. You start feeling like you can’t stop. Like you have to keep feeding the machine or lose momentum. That pressure builds quietly.
And ironically, the more you try to squeeze value from a hobby, the more you risk losing the value it was giving you in the first place.
In fact, researchers found that people with hobbies report significantly lower anxiety and depression, and greater life satisfaction. That’s 93,000 people in one meta-analysis alone (Harvard Health). Those benefits are exactly what I lost when painting became another job.
Of course, I don’t think every pastime needs to be justified as a mental health exercise—that starts to feel like a job too. But I do think it’s worth recognizing that not everything you need to survive is material.
Sometimes, I think the better investment is to just let the hobby stay as it is—a luxurious expenditure.
5. It’s Okay to Just Enjoy Something
There’s nothing wrong with making money from a hobby—if that’s truly what you want. I personally know people who have turned their creative pursuits into a full time job. And, they have found a good balance with it. But, I also know that these individuals have other things they do outside of that “fun work”.
But if you’re a creative person like me, doing something just because you love it matters. It’s rare. It’s sacred. And it’s fragile.
Now, I mostly paint for myself again. No contracts. No deadlines. Just me, my minis, and the sound of a podcast or some old movie in the background. Hint: Classic episodes of the Twilight Zone are perfect for zoning out with a brush, paint, and a mini.
The permission to do whatever you want is yours alone. I think that’s something I’m re-learning for myself again. To do things that protect my time without relying on the need to meet expectations.
“You do you”, as they say.
Conclusion
We live in a culture that tells you to monetize everything. Seems that way at least. Every skill, every interest, every spare minute should be optimized for something “productive”. But what if the greatest value your free time brings is precisely that it’s not monetized?
Real studies show that you don’t need money to be happy (PLOS ONE study).
You don’t owe anyone your free time. You don’t have to earn from it to justify it.
A hobby, a thing you do for fun, can just be yours—a quiet corner of your life where no one gets to comment, rate, or expect anything. If you’ve ever felt like your hobby was getting away from you, take a step back. Give yourself permission to just enjoy it again.
I’m working on this myself. And, I wrote this just to get it out there.
Have you ever tried turning it into a side hustle? Did it creep into something good, but maybe you lost something along the way, too? Let me know what you think with a comment.
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Great article. I have previously thought of trying to turn some of my hobby’s to a profit, but the number one thought in my mind is always, that I already have a full time job and kids. I’m not willing to turn my small amount of hobby time into yet more work. It would be lovely to see if I could go full time doing my hobby and make a living, but to do it as an additional to my current work. No thanks!
Thanks for the great insight…
Thank you for the comment. I’m glad I’m not the only one!