Every independent creator eventually hits the same uncomfortable wall: you run the numbers, set a price that actually covers your time, your materials, and your sanity—and then immediately feel guilty about it.
Because we’ve all absorbed the same cultural poison: the idea that art should be cheap, that passion is its own payment, and that asking for fair compensation somehow makes you greedy. You can almost hear the chorus of “I could make that myself” before you’ve even posted the listing.
And yet, we still have to eat. We still have to pay hosting fees, update plugins, ship things, answer emails, and somehow hold onto the spark that makes all of it worth doing in the first place.
So lately, I’ve been thinking less about how to make my work cheaper—and more about how to make my pricing fair without erasing myself in the process.
The Invisible Cost of Creative Work
From the outside, it’s easy to think a creative business is just “make the thing, sell the thing.” But under the hood, it looks more like this:
- Creative time (the part everyone sees).
- Administrative time (the part no one wants to think about).
- Marketing, photography, listing, packing, shipping, customer service.
- The unholy trinity of invoices, taxes, and accounting.
- Emotional labour: the constant balance between pride and panic.
Somewhere between refreshing the shop stats and trying to remember if you actually ate today, you realize that creativity has a surprisingly long to-do list.
Accessibility Isn’t About Making Yourself Smaller
I care deeply about accessibility. I want people to be able to enjoy what I make even if they’re not rolling in disposable income.
But accessibility shouldn’t mean self-exploitation.
That’s why I’ve enabled every pay-in-installments option available to me. It’s my way of saying: I see you—life’s expensive—without saying my work is disposable.
Flexibility is accessibility. It’s a bridge between wanting to make art reachable and needing to keep the lights on. Installment plans let people manage their budgets while still affirming that creative labour has worth. Everyone wins, and no one has to starve for it.
The Emotional Math of Value
For a long time, I flinched every time I sent an invoice. I grew up believing my needs were selfish and my work was frivolous—so even fair prices felt like theft.
But here’s the thing: when you chronically undercharge, you teach the world to expect your exhaustion for free.
Learning to price fairly wasn’t just a business decision; it was an act of self-repair. I had to unlearn the reflex that said “lower the price” every time I felt insecure. It turns out, that instinct was never about generosity—it was about fear.
Now I remind myself: sustainability is generosity. If I can keep creating without burning out, I can keep offering things that bring people joy.
Compassion and Boundaries Can Coexist
Fairness isn’t a zero-sum game. You can care about people’s access to art and still charge what you need to survive.
A boundary doesn’t mean you don’t care; it means you’re caring responsibly.
So I build structure instead of guilt: transparent pricing, installment options, and clear communication. It’s not about gatekeeping—it’s about keeping the gate open and upright.
Toward a Culture of Dignity Economics
Every time a small creator prices fairly, it helps normalize the idea that creative work is work. And every time a customer chooses to support that, it chips away at a culture that treats creativity as charity.
We can build an economy that values empathy and expertise, where accessibility isn’t code for “artist martyrdom,” and where people understand that “supporting small business” means paying enough for that business to live.
That’s not radical; it’s just humane.
Reframing Worth
So no, I don’t feel bad about my prices anymore.
Because behind every number is a promise: I’ll keep doing this work, and I’ll keep making it reachable—not by shrinking myself, but by designing systems that honour both of us.
That, to me, is what accessible art should look like: built with empathy, sustained with dignity.
If this resonated, share it with another creator who’s still apologizing for their prices.
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