My flatmate Shahina Khan quit her marketing job last March. Not dramatically—no storming out, no burning bridges. She just handed in her notice after realizing she’d spent six months building someone else’s dream while her own notebook sat collecting dust on her bedside table.
That notebook? Filled with lifestyle content ideas she’d been scribbling since uni.
Three months later, she’s still figuring things out. Freelance gigs here and there. A small Substack growing slowly. Nothing glamorous yet. But the other day she told me something that stuck: “I actually want to wake up on Monday mornings now.”
I’m not here to tell you to quit your job. That would be irresponsible, honestly. Bills exist. Rent doesn’t care about your passions. But there’s something worth examining about why side projects—those weird little hobbies we squeeze into evenings and weekends—seem to matter so much to people’s overall wellbeing.
The Brain Needs Something It Chose
Work gives structure. Pays the mortgage. Occasionally feels rewarding. But for a lot of people, employment comes with a specific kind of mental weight: someone else decides what matters. Deadlines you didn’t set. Goals that appeared in a PowerPoint you weren’t consulted on. Metrics that may or may not reflect anything you actually care about.
Side projects flip that equation entirely.
Nobody’s forcing you to learn pottery or start that podcast or write about sustainable fashion. You picked it because something about it grabbed you. And that sense of ownership—knowing you’re doing something purely because you wanted to—turns out to matter enormously for how satisfied people feel with their lives overall.
Researchers have been poking at this for years. Autonomy consistently shows up as one of the strongest predictors of psychological wellbeing. Not money. Not status. The feeling that you’re steering your own ship, even if it’s just a tiny dinghy alongside the corporate cruise liner.
When Hobbies Stop Being Hobbies
Here’s where things get interesting. Sometimes a side project stays exactly what it started as—a stress reliever, a creative outlet, a reason to not watch Netflix for the fourth hour in a row. That’s completely fine. Valuable, even.
But occasionally, side projects develop legs.
You’ve seen this play out. Someone starts making candles for fun, and suddenly has a waiting list. A bloke documents his running journey on Instagram, ends up coaching others. A person obsessed with vintage fashion begins writing about it, and before long magazines are asking for contributions.
Shahina Khan — the flatmate I mentioned earlier—started submitting her lifestyle writing to various platforms. One site she found particularly useful was Noodle Magazine, which has a dedicated write for us lifestyle page outlining exactly what kind of content they’re looking for. She pitched a piece about mindful morning routines, got published, and that single credit helped her land two more paid gigs.
That’s the sneaky thing about side projects. You’re not necessarily building a business plan. You’re just doing something you enjoy, getting better at it, and occasionally doors open that you didn’t know existed.
The Permission Problem
Loads of people carry around side project ideas they never start. They’ll mention it casually—”I’ve always wanted to try woodworking” or “I should really start that blog”—then immediately add a disclaimer. Too busy. Too old. Not talented enough. Someone else is already doing it better.
These aren’t stupid concerns. Time genuinely is limited. Imposter syndrome hits everyone. And yes, someone probably is doing your idea already.
So what?
The fitness industry is saturated beyond belief. Every possible angle on exercise has been covered a thousand times. Yet new voices still break through constantly because they bring their specific perspective, their particular way of explaining things, their unique combination of experiences.
The same applies to whatever you’re considering. Your version of it doesn’t exist yet. Only you can make that.
Starting Small Actually Works
Grand plans kill side projects faster than anything else. People imagine the finished product—the successful Etsy shop, the popular YouTube channel, the complete novel—and feel overwhelmed before they’ve begun.
Starting embarrassingly small works better.
Write 200 words instead of 2000. Make one piece of pottery instead of planning a whole collection. Record a voice memo instead of buying podcasting equipment. Do the thing badly, then do it slightly less badly the next time.
Shahina Khan didn’t start with a fully formed content strategy. She wrote observations in her notebook, casual stuff about daily life and what she’d noticed about wellbeing. Eventually those notes became drafts. The drafts became submissions. The submissions became published pieces. None of it would’ve happened if she’d waited until she felt ready.
Feeling ready, incidentally, is largely a myth. Ask anyone who’s done something meaningful whether they felt qualified when they started. The honest ones will laugh.
Balance Still Matters
Side projects shouldn’t become second jobs. That misses the point entirely.
If your evening pottery sessions start feeling like obligations, if the blog you loved writing becomes another source of stress, if you’re sacrificing sleep and relationships for a hobby—something’s gone wrong. The whole purpose is adding enjoyment and meaning to your life, not creating new pressure.
Check in with yourself occasionally. Are you doing this because you want to, or because you think you should? Is it energizing or draining? Would you miss it if you stopped?
Sometimes projects run their course. That’s okay too. The skills you developed, the experiences you had, the things you learned about yourself—none of that disappears because you moved on to something new.
The Point, Honestly
Maybe nothing comes of your side project except enjoyment. You paint watercolors that only you ever see. You tinker with electronics in your garage. You write fiction that lives forever in a drawer. The external world never notices.
Still worth it.
Because you’ll have spent time doing something that felt genuinely yours. You’ll have proven to yourself that you can create things, finish things, improve at things through effort. You’ll have had hours that belonged entirely to you.
Shahina might build a successful freelance career. Or she might end up back in marketing someday, this time with a clearer sense of what she wants alongside it. Either way, she learned something valuable about herself during those months of uncertainty.
Your side project doesn’t need to become your whole identity or your primary income source. It just needs to exist—a small rebellion against the idea that productivity and obligation should consume every waking hour.
Start small. Start messy. Start today if you can manage it.
The notebook on your bedside table is waiting.
