I have to admit something before this series even starts: I don't know if any of this is going to work.
I don't have a graph of rising numbers to show you. I don't have a tidy "here's exactly how I did it" story, because I haven't done it yet. What I actually have is three blogs, a YouTube channel, a plan I'm not fully sure of, and a real hope that writing all of it down in public — including the parts where nothing happens — will turn into something true.
That's what Field Notes is. Every Tuesday, I'll show you what I tried that week, whether it worked, and how I actually felt about it, which most weeks will probably be some mix of hopeful and a little embarrassed. There's a Korean saying I keep thinking about while writing this:
빈 수레가 요란하다 — an empty cart makes the loudest noise. And another:
잘 익은 벼가 고개를 숙인다 — the more the rice ripens, the lower it bends its head.
I grew up hearing both, and they've stuck with me for a reason. Confidence that hasn't been earned yet is just noise. So I'd rather start this the honest way — unsure, a little self-conscious, still bowing — than pretend I already know how it ends.
Here's the plain confession underneath all of that: I don't actually know much about making money blogging. I know how to write. I know how to show up every day. Whether that's enough, I genuinely don't know — and that not-knowing is exactly why I think this is worth documenting in real time, instead of after the fact, from someone who's already sure of themselves.
The question I'm stuck on, half-confident and half-terrified
Before platforms, before ads, before anything that sounds like "strategy," there's one question I keep circling: do I even have enough to say to fill three blogs a week?
I don't have a clean answer. What I have is a method I'm trying, which might turn out to be wrong — but here it is anyway.
Take actual paper and draw three circles. I did mine at the kitchen table, half-convinced it was a waste of time.
Circle 1: what I actually know. Not what sounds impressive — what I could talk about for an hour with zero preparation, without performing an expertise I don't have. My life here, my marriage, the country I left and the one I live in now. I'm still not sure this circle is big enough. I hope it is.
Circle 2: what strangers actually search for. This is the part that scares me most. I could write something I love and find out nobody was looking for it. I tested it anyway: type the topic into a search bar and read what autocomplete finishes it with. If nothing comes up, I have to be honest with myself that maybe nobody's looking, no matter how much I want them to be.
Circle 3: what I can actually keep making, every week, without running dry. This is the circle I'm least sure about. A month from now, on some random Tuesday, will I still have something to say? I don't know yet. That's more or less the whole experiment.
Where the three circles overlap is supposed to be the answer. Mine, for now, tentatively: I write about American life for Korean readers who want the inside view, and Korean culture for English readers who want the same thing in reverse. I'm not certain it's right. I'm only certain it's the truest thing I've got, so I'm starting there.
The one part I feel slightly steadier about
There's one thing I feel a little more sure of, though it still makes me hesitate to say out loud, because it can sound like bragging, and I don't mean it that way: nobody else can write this from the inside the way I can.
Anyone can summarize the news. I'm not trying to out-research a search engine. But nobody else has spent fifteen years married to Jinguk, listening to him ask "wait, why do Americans do that?" at dinner. Nobody else happens to carry both sides of this specific, unglamorous, cross-cultural life the way I do, just by living it. I used to think that was too small and too personal to be worth anything. I'm starting to believe it might be the only thing I have that's actually mine.
If you're reading this wondering whether your own life has anything worth writing about, I understand the hesitation — I feel it constantly, too. But I don't think the answer is to sound more certain. I think it's to look honestly at the ordinary thing you already know, and trust that ordinary-to-you might be exactly what someone else is searching for.
What's next
Next Tuesday, I'll show you the system I'm using so I'm not staring at a blank page every morning — assuming it actually holds up for a full week, which I haven't confirmed yet. At the end of every month, I'll show you the real numbers. If that number is zero, I'll write zero. Especially if it's zero — that's the part I least want to hide, and the part I think matters most to show.
All of it, the parts that work and the parts that don't, is becoming a book, written as it actually happens instead of after the fact. I'm nervous about that too, if I'm honest. Subscribe if you want to see it happen in real time.
I won't pretend I feel confident hitting publish on this. I don't. But I'd rather be honestly unsure in public than quietly certain about something I haven't proven yet. So here's my real question for you this week: what's the one thing you could talk about for an hour, right now, with zero preparation — the thing you've probably dismissed as too ordinary to matter? Tell me in the comments. I might be just as nervous as you are about whether any of this works. I'm just not planning on quitting before I find out.
Tags: blogging for money,field notes,how to start a blog,blog niche,blogging for beginners,cross-cultural life,miguktv
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