Everyone I know says they want to build an online presence. Very few have actually thought through what that commitment looks like when there are no guarantees.

A few days ago, I caught up with a friend and we talked about his future business plans.

He is a partner at his company, deeply involved, and very good at what he does.

As we talked about what the next chapter might look like for him a few years from now, he mentioned coaching and consulting as a potential direction.

Then, he said that the only way he would be happy doing it is if he was creating content he was genuinely excited about, writing and sharing things he actually enjoys thinking about rather than following a prescribed playbook or chasing what is supposed to work.

That instinct is worth paying attention to.

Most conversations about building an audience default to tactics, what to post, how often, which platform, what converts etc.

That framing skips a more fundamental question:

Is the act of doing this rewarding enough on its own?

For people with demanding careers, the real constraint is not just time.

It’s tolerance for uncertainty. If the only reason to publish is a future payoff, every post carries pressure. It has to perform to justify the effort.

I have seen this pattern for years teaching music.

The students who progressed the fastest were not the ones thinking about recognition, validation, or making money as a musician.

They were the ones who genuinely wanted to get better at the instrument. Improvement became inevitable because the process itself was rewarding.

The ones learning with an outcome in mind (like impressing their friends) tended to rush, compare, and burn out. The ones focused on the craft progressed at a faster pace.

The same dynamic applies to writing and content creation.

When the work itself is the reward, consistency becomes natural. When the work is only a means to an end, motivation becomes fragile.

This is where the idea of a body of work matters.

A body of work is not content created to chase attention.

It is a record of thinking. A trail of ideas explored over time. Something that you’re proud of creating whether people are watching or not.

When you approach publishing this way, the question of immediate return loosens its grip. Time spent writing is no longer wasted even if nobody reads it.

You are clarifying your thinking. You are developing language. You are creating material that can be reused, refined, and built on later.

You are accumulating assets, even if the return on effort isn’t clear yet.

That value is invisible at the beginning. It only becomes obvious in hindsight.

This is why chasing guarantees misses the point.

Creative work rarely offers certainty upfront. That is not a flaw, it’s a trade-off.

The downside is limited to time and energy you would have spent somewhere anyway.

The upside is optionality, leverage, and a foundation you can build on, opening new doors you didn’t even know existed.

The people who stick with this kind of work are not obsessed with outcomes. They choose a form of effort they actually want to sustain.

When you build from genuine interest rather than obligation, you stop forcing yourself to show up. You are documenting a process you would be engaged in regardless.

Attention, opportunities, and income tend to follow, but only when you allow enough time for exponential growth to work in your advantage.

The lesson here is not to ignore results. It’s to stop using results as the primary reason to begin. Build something you are proud of and enjoy the act of building it.

Everything else is downstream from that.

If you enjoyed this, share it with a friend.

Until next time, keep creating!

Omara