Last night, I was over at my friend's place for supper and I expressed interest in starting my own podcast though I had no theme in mind. He told me to stop fantasizing and to get on with it.<p>I sat down on a couch in his living room and he pointed a tripod and a camera at me, and he would present topics or questions for me to talk about. It was a really interesting exercise because unlike say a normal conversation, I had to be laser-focused on a topic without digressing, speak rhythmically without stop words and stay maximally coherent.<p>At the end, I thought to myself that it was actually quite fun doing something like this and that it wasn't as hard as I expected. Maybe a bit more confidence to stare at the camera and some preparation with topics and structure would complete the package.<p>Then came a question that was obvious to everyone except me. He asked, "how are you going to make money off of it?". Oddly enough, throughout the whole exercise, not even the concept of a penny entered my mind. When I verbalized this, it dawned onto him as if it was obviously intuitive: "You're afraid of making money." I never had something click so hard in my brain like that.<p>I have several side projects that I consider successful like my blog with thousands of daily visitors, my curated ROM collection which fills my inbox with thank you emails every week, an online radio station and a decently big social club.<p>However, when I brag about this, most people will immediately ask me how much money I'm making off of those. My answer is always zero. For some reason, it's a tough concept for them to grasp. Why would anyone do all that work for free?<p>Personally, I enjoy setting goals for myself and engaging in goal-directed activities. Achieving my goals usually is fulfilling enough for me and provides the inertia to keep the project active. I tend to call these activities 'passion projects'.<p>I'm starting to do more and more, and realizing that I can't hold a 9-5 full-time job and work on all of these ideas at the same time. So somehow, I have to make money on these side projects. Despite being single and having only the responsibilities of managing a small apartment, a pet and an average job, I still feel like the burnout is on its way.<p>Right now, I'm starting work on my first book, where I won't reveal the topic, but it's essentially a parody. I've shared the synopsis with some friends and family and it sent them into hysterical laughter. For the first time, I'm thinking to myself that I should actually sell this book. However, my expectations are low believing that I'll only sell a few dozen copies before being forgotten.<p>I feel so hesitant about all of this and my only source of income right now is my day job. I'm starting to realize that I'm really good at evading the money question and in fact removing it completely as a concern.<p>So, am I setting a trap for myself and a hill to fall down from? Am I being delusional in some way? Is money essential for me to keep going expanding these projects of mine? What about burnout?