For years, the advice was the same, from every direction: pick one thing. Niche down. Be the person who does exactly one thing, so well, that people stop asking what else you do.
I tried it. I really did. I'd pick a lane, get three months into it, and then get pulled sideways by something that had nothing to do with the lane — a funnel that needed rebuilding, a piece of software that seemed fun to build badly and quickly, a video experiment that had no business purpose at all. Every time, it felt like a failure of discipline. Like I couldn't finish what I started.
The reframe
What changed wasn't the behavior. It was the story I told myself about the behavior. I stopped asking "what's my niche" and started asking a different question: what's actually staying constant here, underneath all the switching?
The answer wasn't a skill. It was a pattern — get curious about something, build it into something real, then get curious about the next thing. Content, marketing, code, commerce: different rooms, same instinct.
A niche is a promise about what you'll keep doing. Curiosity is a promise about how you'll keep doing it.
That distinction matters more than it sounds like it should. A niche asks people to trust your consistency. Curiosity, treated seriously, asks people to trust your judgment instead — your ability to look at something new, figure out if it's worth building, and then actually build it.
What this looks like in practice
Concretely, it means I think of my work as five rooms instead of one lane: a Studio for storytelling, a Workshop for building software, an Office for marketing and funnels, a Lab for testing new tools, and a Store for turning ideas into things people can buy. Different rooms, same house.
The test I use now, before starting anything new, isn't "does this fit my niche." It's "would I still be proud of this in three years, even if the tool I used to make it doesn't exist anymore." That question has killed a lot of ideas that were really just chasing a trend. It's kept the ones that were actually mine.
If you're standing where I was — feeling like your curiosity is a liability instead of an asset — my honest suggestion is to stop trying to narrow it. Build the house instead. Give each interest a room, a name, and permission to exist without justifying itself to the others.