Writing is like prostitution. First you do it for love, and then for a few close friends, and then for money. — Moliere

Writing is like prostitution. First you do it for love, and then for a few close friends, and then for money.

Author: Moliere

Insight: There's something almost uncomfortable about this comparison, but it nails how a passion project transforms once it touches the world. You start writing, painting, or building something because you genuinely love it—the thing itself matters more than anything else. Then gradually, you're doing it for the people who get it, who really see what you're trying to say. That still feels pure because it's driven by connection, not transaction. But then money enters. A paycheck, a contract, an audience that expects consistent output. Suddenly the thing you did for pure joy now has stakes attached to it. This doesn't mean it becomes hollow—plenty of professionals do their best work under pressure and for real compensation. But Moliere is pointing at something real: the way external motivation can crowd out internal motivation if you're not careful. A baker can love making bread and still need to charge for it. The question is whether you let the money become the point, or whether you protect some part of what made it matter in the first place. The uncomfortable truth is that most of us have to make money somehow. The trick isn't avoiding that reality—it's remembering what made you start.