Is It Wrong to Sell Philosophical Ideas for Money?
The contradiction rages inside me.
Four years ago, I had an idea to take the lessons I was learning and share them with others. If I benefitted from these teachings, I thought others would, too. However, I didn’t share anything. Instead, I wrote them down in red and black journals with the word Moleskin on the back. I bought one fancy pen from Office Depot because my ego got the best of me, and I vainly wanted to be that guy who journals his thoughts, a guy I had been ten years prior.
In college, after a few relationships ended in miserable failure and my parents divorced, I finally turned 21 and began to do two vices: going to the bar with friends and writing. Both tasks cost time, but only one cost money, and as a poor college kid, I only had enough money for the bar.
Soon, I enjoyed sitting in my coffee shop of choice, Karma Cafe, and writing for a magical hour. Random thoughts, poems, word associations, and more seemed to flow out of me so regularly that I knew I could write all night. There never seemed to be an end to my stories. After my kids appeared, however, writing was replaced by bottles, diapers, and tantrums.
So, four years ago, I wanted to write for the first time in many years. This time, I would try my hand at online writing. As a technology-minded individual, I bought a domain and began to build my website at patrickstewart.net. I wrote long, complex tales about my life and growing up. My father leaving, the pains of being raised Southern Baptist while being bisexual and disabled, and my struggles with anxiety and tinnitus all poured like an electronic waterfall from my mind to the digital page -- relentlessly. After a few articles, I discovered a problem.
Even though I wanted to share my lessons with others online, I didn’t know if I was a “good” writer. I made A’s on all of my papers in college and even wrote a few papers for my wife when she was in school, which I did without trying. So, I had some idea that I was writing coherently. But, to know for sure, I needed readers. How could I attract readers to a personal site?
A few months earlier, Elon Musk purchased Twitter, which drove many people to a platform named Mastodon. I, too, had moved and gained about 200 followers--enough to post a link to each article I wrote on my site to see how many reads I’d earn. To my shock, the answer was many.
At first, single digits, then dozens, then 100. It was incredible! Strangers online messaged me from Mastodon and commented on how my writing had touched them or how they related. I began to see other writers post articles from a website named Medium.com. I wanted to reach more readers, and Medium provided an entire community to help. So, I soon transferred my first 11 articles from my site to Medium. Within six months, I gained 5,000 followers, and by August I had 8,000. I even began to earn a pretty good amount of money. But, just like last time, a problem arose. This time, however, the problem was philosophical.
Is it ethically wrong to place articles behind a paywall that were designed to help others?
How can others learn from my experiences if they can’t read them?
Therein lies the debate. Despite my admittedly limited success, writing articles, running The Taoist Online organization, streaming my podcast, and creating this newsletter take a lot of time. If time equals money, I’m in the red on my balance sheet. My three children, my wife, and my career cause my soul to jerk from one location to the next. I’ve always suspected I have low-grade attention deficit disorder (ADD) because my mind is constantly running a marathon of ideas and demands.
So, is it wrong that I desire to be compensated for my time? In my mind, it feels natural to want to be provided some compensation for hard work, but I can’t shake the impostor syndrome and self-doubt. Am I worth it? Are my stories worth it? If the founder of Taoism, Laotzi, had only taught those who paid, no one would know Tao.
Despite the internal debate, I am subject to the United States capitalist system. Everything is money. Everything is about money, and there’s no escaping that in Texas. Debating free vs. paid will never stop for as long as I write, and I may always feel uneasy about it. I’ll give away as much as possible while enticing people with extras. At this time, that process is as much as I have time to create.
I consider myself caught between a rock and a hard place. I need to spend more time working on my writing to grow the organization, but at the same time, I need my organization to grow to justify spending more time— catch-22. Life is full of tradeoffs. I only have 100% of a day, divided between many interests, hobbies, and family members. Somehow, I find time and continue writing as much as possible with strong emotions, passions, and memories.
My Taoist teacher once said, “You’re not an imposter if you don’t claim to be the master.” I certainly don’t claim to be a master of anything. Therefore, I want to offer everything I have to you, dear readers. If there’s anything you want, I’ll do my best to create it. If there is more you’d like to read, see, or hear, I’ll set time aside for you.
Being a Taoist doesn’t mean we don’t feel anxiety or stress or that we don’t make plans. Studying Taoism means we adapt faster and easier than others when the situation runs out of control or against our original design. No design is greater than the Tao, so I submit the future to it. I’ll make plans and work hard to become the best writer and leader I can be, and when I feel led, I’ll charge what I think my time and effort are worth.
To all of you who celebrate, I hope you have a fantastic Thanksgiving holiday!
That's such an interesting debate, Patrick.
I feel the problem isn't between charging or not charging. As you put very well in your post, we need to make money in order to pay for the things we need to live, and even to keep the business going. After all, writing is kind of free, but even if you're only using a Moleskine and a pen, you need to buy those and keep yourself fed, at the bare minimum.
The problem I see is in how some people paywall their work. You know, when someone makes extreme claims and promises mountains - then you pay for the content, and it's underwhelming. I also dislike all the promises of how something will change your life, make you a better person or teach you how to make a living from one hour of work a day. It's all ridiculous claims and all false, even if a handful of people managed to do it.
In the end, I can't possibly pay for all the content I'd like to consume. But at the same time, I'm not upset when content creators (writers or in other medium) paywall their content - I consume what's free and choose which ones I can afford to pay for. At the same time, though, as I grow as a writer myself and earn more money from my craft, I also have more money to spend on books, podcasts, courses, and to support writers with tips and subscriptions.