Hey it's Buono. Winter's fully here in Yokohama. There's a big tree outside my desk window and I usually feel the seasons shift through its leaves. Right now? Completely bare.
Anyway. Today I wanna talk about something I've been asked a million times: why do I keep putting out content when the money is basically nonexistent?
"YouTubers Make Bank Though, Right?"
Every time I tell someone I'm a YouTuber, this is the first thing they say. And I get it. That's the perception.
And yeah — the top creators are printing money. No question. Even below the top tier, there are plenty of people pulling in thousands a month. The game has matured.
But that's not my reality.
I've got 45k subscribers. On paper that sounds decent. Maybe even impressive to some people. But the actual revenue? Embarrassing. When I factor in equipment costs, editing software subscriptions, and parts for my electronics projects, I'm basically doing charity work.
So why keep going?
Honestly, I didn't have a good answer to that question for a while. That uncertainty — plus being genuinely busy — is why my upload frequency dropped off.
But recently it clicked.
Content Creation Is Like Deep-Sea Fishing
I go ocean fishing sometimes. I'm terrible at it. But here's the thing — the part I actually love isn't catching fish. It's dropping the line.
The ocean is massive. You can't see what's below the surface. Your line connects you to the entire world through the water. And in that moment, anything could bite. A tuna. A shark. Something you've never even seen before.
The probability might be 0.001%. But the possibility is infinite. That feeling is everything to me.
Content creation is exactly the same.
The moment you put something out — anything — it's available to the entire world. And you have no idea who might see it. Most of the time, nothing happens. But occasionally, something unbelievable does.
The Catch That Changed Everything
Here's my proof.
Through my content, someone at CQ Publishing — the most respected publisher in the Japanese electrical engineering world, basically the bible of the industry — noticed my work. They invited me to contribute to their magazine.
Me. A completely average engineer. Leapfrogging colleagues with way more experience and talent. Doing something none of my seniors had ever done.
That one opportunity gave me a level of confidence I'd never had before. And it made me a true believer in the power of putting yourself out there.
No amount of private skill-building would've created that moment. It only happened because I was visible.
The Real Reason
There are still days when the motivation dips. "Why am I working this hard for content that makes no money?" It comes up more than I'd like to admit.
But every time it does, I remember the fishing line analogy. I remember CQ Publishing. And I remember that the whole point was never revenue.
The point is maximizing encounters with the unknown.
In a world drowning in content, if you're not putting anything out, you're invisible. You don't exist in the digital world. But the moment you start — even small, even imperfect — you become discoverable. And that's when the unexpected finds you.
That's why I keep going.
Catch you later ✌️
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