“The most dangerous lie isn’t the one you tell others, but the one you tell yourself.”
Because the easiest person to fool is you.

I’m not here to confess some scandal or expose a secret.
I’m here to admit something scarier:

I lie to myself.
And for a long time, I didn’t even realize I was doing it.

Lie #: “I’m doing this for the art.”

I told myself I’m a purist.
That I write for the craft.
That I don’t care about the money, the clicks, the conversions.

I claimed the moral high ground of being an “artist,” not a marketer.
That I wasn’t one of those people selling “How to Make Money Writing” courses.

But here’s the truth:
I do want to make money.
I do want my writing to be seen.
I do want to grow.

And ignoring that didn’t make me noble — it made me stuck.

The Creative Identity Trap

There are two types of people who sell writing courses:

1. Those who teach how to make money writing.
2. Those who teach writing as a craft.

I wanted to be #2. The Hemingway type. The poetic rebel.
But my bank account started asking questions my ego couldn’t answer.

So I did something I hadn’t done in years:

I got honest.

What I Learned Studying Creatives Who Get Paid

I began looking at painters, musicians, YouTubers — anyone who turned their creativity into cash without selling their soul.

Here’s what I discovered:

• Great art and great business aren’t enemies.
• People who succeed often treat their work like a startup, not a secret diary.
• Affiliate marketing, merch, courses, and community-building are tools — not sellout moves.
• Craft without strategy is often just noise.

Most importantly:
Being broke isn’t a badge of honor.

Admitting the Real Goal

The hardest part wasn’t learning the tactics.
It was redefining my identity.

It took humility to admit that I wanted to build something bigger than a blog post.
That I wanted freedom, not just fulfillment.
That writing could be both art and engine.

The Truth Is the Shortcut

The lie I told myself slowed me down.
Every time I avoided “marketing” out of pride, I delayed my own progress.

When I finally got honest — painfully honest — things changed.

Now, I’m learning to:

• Write what matters and what sells
• Build an audience that connects and converts
• Teach with purpose and profit

Love That Craft

You can love the craft and play the game.
You can be authentic and ambitious.
You can tell stories and track sales.

But only if you stop lying to yourself.

Because the easiest person to fool is you.

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