I just finished reading The Enthusiasm, a book by Remedios Zafra, and it made me reflect deeply on the role of the “creator” that has emerged in the digital economy.

The author explains how enthusiasm for creating in the digital world lays the perfect foundation for precarious work. When you’re passionate about something, you can lose sight of yourself—blending your identity with your employer, celebrating their achievements with a “we,” or investing insane amounts of time without receiving anything in return. It’s what drives some people to spend their Sundays editing vlogs, or developers to evangelize their work environments as the ultimate place to be.

It’s increasingly common for companies to go beyond the traditional salary-for-time relationship by tapping into the emotional space where people develop their passions. You’re no longer just working for someone—you’re meant to feel passionate about what you do here.

Enthusiasm is a powerful force. It’s magnetic, it attracts people, and it’s contagious. But we live in a capitalist world, and the moment people gather around something, transactions of value begin to take place, a market emerges, and what once was a passion can turn into a burden. What once felt like “I enjoy editing videos” becomes “Why am I spending my Sundays editing videos?”

Part of you still believes you’re doing something meaningful, but the precarious reality you live in starts to feel uncomfortable. The PRs you merge or the free shoes a brand sends you won’t pay your bills. Capitalism doesn’t leave anything unmonetized—including enthusiasm. The idea of being an “indie developer” is built upon this tension.

In an ideal world, capital wouldn’t interfere with your passions—and you’d have the tools to evolve your relationship with your own enthusiasm. If you look around, you’ll see developers whose passion led them to start companies, only for them to later step down as CEOs or leave entirely, returning to their roots. Back to enthusiasm in its pure and isolated form.

Have you ever had the impulse to do something and had to stop to assess whether it was truly what you wanted—or just a “fake passion” that inertia led you to pursue? In a world where everyone seems to have a passion—or at least pretends to—it can be emotionally difficult not to have one. Can’t it?

I’ve experienced all of this myself with Tuist. We started it driven by enthusiasm. That enthusiasm attracted people, companies, and business incentives from others. At some point, we had to evolve it to avoid doing precarious work. It wasn’t something we actively planned—it just happened.

As I mentioned, enthusiasm is magnetic. In our case, we built a company around it. And with that, enthusiasm started to mix with business, and I had to do a lot of personal work to accept that evolution. It’s still tricky at times. Sometimes I want to do things just because they’re fun, but the business side of me questions whether they’re aligned with our goals. That internal conflict leaves me with tough emotions, as I can’t simply act on joy without considering the business implications.

I recently watched a documentary about the Spanish chef David Muñoz, who expressed something similar. He’s passionate about cooking, and a business formed around his creations. That came with a team and responsibilities. But he admitted that he misses spending hours doing what he loves most—just cooking. I feel the same way with Tuist. As a CEO, I carry many responsibilities. I can fulfill them, but I also need to give myself space to enjoy the pure code crafting that brought me joy in the early days.

I also think about the people who contribute to or work on Tuist. They have their own passions. I don’t want to impose any on them—but when the work itself is fun, that overlap can happen naturally. So how much of it is my responsibility, as a founder, to help them set boundaries? And how much is on them? Should there even be boundaries? I believe so.

I didn’t set any for myself at my previous employer, and when I was laid off, it hurt more than it should have. As I mentioned earlier, when “you” becomes “we,” and all your passions are channeled into the company, you start to distance yourself from who you are outside of that world of enthusiasm. That can have serious mental consequences. I learned that the hard way.

What’s the solution? I’m not sure. The author suggests that passion and work are healthier when separated. It reminded me of how I often joke about opening a Spanish omelette restaurant in Berlin and coding just for fun whenever I feel like it.

I think having an ongoing dialogue with yourself—one that prioritizes your emotions and well-being above everything else—is key. Stay connected to yourself, and don’t feel pressured to follow a passion just because everyone else seems to.