The Reality: A Few Hundred Yen Per Month
Let me be honest. This blog makes a few hundred yen per month from affiliate income.
Mostly, I recommend books on Amazon that align with the article's content. I occasionally include high-commission offers in relevant articles. I never push services I haven't used myself, but if I find something valuable as a reference after researching it, I'll include it.
That said, I could never fully commit to "optimizing the entire article for high-commission affiliates."
For example, I know that writing comparison articles for job-hunting sites would spike revenue. But the moment I place "Top Recommended Recruitment Agencies!" at the end of an article about introspection and thinking frameworks, the context breaks. The emotional temperature of the article and the temperature of that link are clearly mismatched.
A few hundred yen. Not even enough to cover server costs. Yet strangely, I never felt like I was "failing." Still, there was always this vague discomfort: "Is this really okay?"
The "I Want Revenue, But I Don't Want to Sell My Soul" Problem
When I dug into this discomfort, what I found at the root was actually a pretty simple conflict.
I want revenue. If I'm going to keep this blog running, it's better if it pays for itself somehow. But I don't want to change my writing style for the sake of revenue.
It felt greedy, even to me. But I think this conflict was actually healthy.
The problem wasn't "wanting to make money"—it was "how I was trying to make it." More precisely, what my readers wanted and my monetization methods weren't aligned.
I believe most people reading this blog aren't looking for "quick answers"—they're people who "want to think for themselves." They're in a state of "I can't see the right design" or "I don't have enough information to decide," so they open an article, read it, think, organize their thoughts, and close the page. They value that experience.
For people like that, placing a "Sign Up Now!" button at the end of an article creates too much of a temperature gap. The more I tried to sell, the more I felt like I was eroding my strongest asset—the trust that "this person writes with real thought behind it."
The Root of the Discomfort Was "Structure"
At some point, I revisited my blog from the reader's perspective.
Read an article. Think about it. Go "I see." Then close the page.
That was it. Complete.
The higher the quality of the reading experience, the less readers moved beyond it. They might click on a book link occasionally, but that was "incidental"—not an action that extended from the article itself.
That's when it clicked.
My blog was designed with "completing the reading experience" as the goal. Trust was building, but there was no structure to convert that trust into anything else. The problem with affiliate income wasn't my writing, or the number of articles—it was structural.
So should I strengthen CTAs, build a funnel, and increase CVR? That's what marketing textbooks would say. But honestly, I got stuck here. If I optimized in that direction, I'd be back to the "don't want to sell my soul" problem.
What if, instead of trying to grow affiliate income, I created a place where I could naturally offer my own services without distortion?
When I thought of it that way, it felt like solving a puzzle.
The Fear of "Diluting My Value Proposition"
Still, even after deciding to include my own services, I couldn't move right away.
What I feared most was diluting my value proposition.
This blog is read as "writing from someone who thinks deeply." If I suddenly added service promotions, wouldn't people think, "So they just wanted to sell after all"? Every time I added features—dialogue support, tips, tool introductions—wouldn't the blog's overall identity blur?
I got stuck here, honestly.
But after thinking it through, I realized: "Adding features doesn't cause blur"—"Blur happens when your value proposition isn't clearly articulated."
What I've been doing consistently across blog posts, dialogues, and tools is "helping people return to a state where they can think." I don't teach. I don't lead. I don't decide for them. Instead, I remove the noise from their thinking and help them reach a state where they can judge for themselves.
If that core thread runs through everything, the value doesn't blur even if the form changes. The blog delivers that value through "writing," dialogue through "speaking," and tools through "using." Just different forms.
Once I organized it that way, I felt confident that "adding dialogue support wouldn't make things seem shady."
Designing a "Non-Selling Funnel"
From here, I'll describe what I actually did.
Changed the Role of the Sidebar
Previously, the sidebar had links to career consultations and service promotions. A few links sitting below the table of contents.
But when readers see that while reading, their thinking jumps a level. They're in introspection mode, then suddenly they're asked, "Want a consultation?" Being prompted to make a decision mid-article breaks their train of thought.
I changed the sidebar from "a place to sell" to "a place to supplement who this person is."
Created a "Philosophy Page" as a Buffer
This might be the biggest change.
Before, links from articles or the sidebar went directly to detail pages with pricing and service descriptions. From the reader's perspective, they're reading an article, then suddenly they're taken to a "product pitch."
So I inserted a "philosophy page" in between.
The philosophy page has no pricing, no sign-up buttons. It only describes "what I do," "what I don't do," and "who this is for and who it's not for."
Only people who pass through here proceed to the detail page by their own will. It's not a funnel designed to sell—it's a funnel designed to help people judge whether it's right for them.
In typical marketing, "adding a page increases drop-off." But my readers are sensitive to hard sells and value context. Taking steps isn't a hassle—it's reassuring. The numbers might decrease, but the quality of people who come through will increase.
"Separated" Tips from Dialogue
At the end of articles, I've had a tip form (support for the cost of a cup of coffee) for a while. This works well as an exit for readers who feel "that was good," and I like it.
The question was how to coexist dialogue service promotions with tips.
The conclusion: don't place tips and dialogue side by side.
Tips are "an emotional reaction to the article just read." Dialogue is "a choice for organizing one's future self." Different time horizons. So I structured the end of articles in three layers: post-reading afterglow → tips → dialogue promotion. The dialogue promotion is placed subtly, like a footnote.
Removed the Job Title
Surprisingly, this was key.
I hold a career consultant certification, and when I started my business, I used it to explain "what I can do." Back then, having that certification really helped. When I couldn't yet articulate my service well, the title served as a shield.
But now, I can explain my stance through the blog and philosophy page. The "translation" role that the certification played has been replaced by something else.
When I realized that, I decided to remove the "Career Consultant" label. I felt like I had to move forward.
What I do hasn't changed. Listening, organizing, helping with articulation. But when I call it "career consultation," readers feel pressured to "talk about job changes." Calling it "dialogue time" makes the expectations much more natural.
It was a courageous choice. I was voluntarily giving up social legitimacy in the form of a certification. But the skills and ethical foundation that career consultant training gave me are still working behind the scenes. I only removed the sign—I didn't lose any substance.
Making Single Sessions the Main Offering
I also struggled with how to structure dialogue pricing.
Originally, I had single dialogue sessions (5,000 yen per session) and a coaching program for developing autonomous introspection skills (8-session course). I really liked the philosophy behind the coaching program—helping people reach a point where they could introspect on their own.
But if I'm calling it "dialogue time," having the 8-session course front and center creates a contradiction. "You say dialogue time, but you're assuming people need 8 sessions to learn something?"
So I made single sessions the main offering.
The 8-session program still exists. But instead of putting it front and center, I positioned it where people who naturally feel "I want to continue a bit longer" after repeating single sessions can choose it. I don't call it a course or program—I describe it as "a form where you embody ways of thinking while using dialogue over a period of time."
Honestly, the 8-session course would be better for revenue in terms of unit price. But I judged that prioritizing the lightness of the entry point—"maybe I'll try talking once"—would make my design more consistent.
Why This Kind of Design Isn't Talked About
After writing all this, something occurred to me.
This kind of design almost never appears in marketing textbooks.
When I think about why, a few things come to mind.
First, it's hard to evaluate with short-term metrics. You can't measure it with CVR or CTR. "Trust is accumulating" doesn't work in a report, and "weird people stopped coming" is hard to frame as an outcome.
Success stories don't circulate easily either. I think there are people succeeding with this design, but it doesn't go viral, and there's no flashy before/after. Outcomes like "I'm less tired" or "mismatches decreased" instead of "Revenue increased X times!" don't make good teaching materials.
Plus, "teaching how to design without selling" is structurally difficult to sustain. Selling a method for not selling contains a contradiction, so it doesn't get packaged as consulting or courses. That's why it doesn't come into view.
Also, maybe few people even reach this point. You have to study marketing, get tired of selling, not give up on results, and be able to think about technique, philosophy, and ethics simultaneously. Only after reaching that state does "designing with softer claims" become visible as an option.
If I had to name it, it's close to concepts like permission marketing[^1] or trust-accumulation funnels. But they all feel like they only go "partway." As a methodology that designs everything—philosophy, UI, pricing, language, funnel, psychology—holistically, it doesn't seem systematized yet.
[^1]: "Permission Marketing" is a concept proposed by Seth Godin in 1999. It advocates obtaining customers' permission before marketing to them, and spread as an antithesis to interruptive advertising.
This Is Still a Work in Progress
This article isn't a success story. It's not "do this and you'll make money."
I changed the design. I feel good about it. But the results aren't visible yet.
Still, I wanted to write this because I think there's value in recording this "in-progress" state. If I write about it after it succeeds, it inevitably becomes a "this was the right choice" story. I wanted to preserve the temperature of right now—still not fully convinced, but feeling "I think this is okay."
If there's anyone else caught between blog revenue and their own philosophy:
Maybe there's an option not to "change how you sell," but to "create a design that doesn't sell."
I didn't change how I sell—I built a "structure that works without selling" first. Now I'm observing how it unfolds.
Reference: About Career Consultation
By the way, as a service similar to the "dialogue time" I mentioned in this article, there are also skill-sharing career consultation platforms. For example, platforms like Coachee provide a structure where you can easily book single consultations.
[📦 商品リンク: moshimo-coachee-banner-728x90]
When thinking about how to create context for the service I offer, I also referenced the funnel design of similar services like these.