Introduction to 3D Printer Product Sales Kindle Edition review

Have you ever looked at a humming 3D printer and wondered if it could hum your bank account into a better mood?

Is this the book that finally lets me earn from my hobby?

I asked myself that before reading “Introduction to 3D printer product sales starting from a hobby: A topical side job — Earn over 100000 yen a month even if you are a beginner (Side job Practical series, Japanese Edition).” The title has the moral certainty of a motivational poster in a dentist’s office, but I wanted to see if the book could deliver more than pep and a promise.

I went in with a modest goal: I wanted solid steps and realistic math, not vague inspiration. I got a friendly guide that speaks to beginners, respects your time, and—perhaps most importantly—helps you avoid turning your living room into a plastic-scented money pit.

What the title promises: 100,000 yen a month even if I’m a beginner

The headline number—100,000 yen per month—sounds like a high-wire trick performed without a net. The book treats it more like a target you reach with a tape measure and a calendar. It frames that number as achievable if I approach things like a shopkeeper, not a tinkerer in denial.

I appreciated that it doesn’t sell an overnight sensation. It talks about margins, batches, and boring-but-necessary things like quality control and order handling. The tone is encouragement laced with realism, which I find as refreshing as a cool breeze in a filament-filled room.

What I actually found inside when I read it

The book is practical, structured, and mercifully light on techno-mysticism. It’s written for readers in Japan, and it frequently references local marketplaces and shipping options while still being useful no matter where I live. As the series name suggests, it treats the side job as a craft in itself, not as an afterthought.

I wouldn’t call it poetic—no one waxes lyrical about nozzle diameter—but it’s clear and concrete. The guidance often lands in tidy checklists and examples, which is precisely how I like to digest something I might try before the weekend.

How the book is organized (as I experienced it)

It moves logically: start with gear and workspace, then to products people actually want, then pricing and sales channels, and finally operations and growth. It’s as if a friendly shop owner took me behind the counter and showed me how the cash drawer balances at the end of the day.

What stood out is the emphasis on “systems”—repeatable ways to pick products, calculate costs, and manage orders. The book argues that if I set up a good system, the money is a result rather than a miracle.

Quick snapshot: what I took away

To make things easier to skim, I pulled together a table of the main points and what they meant to me. I like a good chart. It reassures me that life can be decoded.

Topic	What the book says	My takeaway	Practical action	Difficulty	Estimated impact
Printer choice	Start with a reliable, entry-level FDM printer; upgrade only when bottlenecks appear	Don’t buy a second printer before the first one pays its rent	Pick a proven model with community support; run test prints for two weeks	Low	High
Materials	PLA for most products; PETG for durability; reserve resin for premium items	Match material to use-case and safety	Stock 3 colors of PLA, 1 PETG; label spools with cost per gram	Low	Medium
Slicing & settings	Favor reliability over speed; standardize profiles	Consistency beats heroics	Create “production” profiles and never tweak mid-batch	Medium	High
Product selection	Go niche, personalize, solve micro-problems	Utility and novelty can coexist	Make 3 test products: one practical, one decorative, one customizable	Medium	High
Pricing	Calculate material + time + overhead, then add margin	Price for profit, not ego	Use a simple hourly rate and markups; don’t race to the bottom	Medium	High
Marketplaces	Start where your audience shops: Minne, Creema, Mercari; later build your own site	Go where the buyers already are	Create one listing on each marketplace; learn by doing	Medium	High
Photos & listings	Clean photos, context shots, clear size info	Fewer words, better pictures	Use natural light; include an object for scale	Low	High
Packaging & shipping	Protect edges; keep shipping predictable	Broken corners ruin reviews	Standardize boxes, padding, and labels	Low	Medium
Quality control	Inspect, measure, test; prevent warped or brittle parts	Reliability earns repeat buyers	Create a 5-point QC checklist	Low	High
Scaling	Batch work, pre-assemble kits, consider a second machine when orders exceed capacity	Scale only after systems work	Track printer uptime and post-processing time	Medium	High

The beginner’s runway: equipment and setup that won’t sink me

The book urges modest beginnings. This was music to my thrifty ears. I didn’t feel bullied into buying a factory’s worth of gear before I had a single order. The author frames the first machine as a business partner you should treat gently and learn from.

A tidy workspace is treated as a profit center. I nodded along, then looked at my desk and sighed. The book’s subtle push: cleanliness saves time, time saves money, and nothing says “professional” like knowing where the tweezers are.

Choosing a 3D printer that works more than I do

The book points toward dependable FDM printers for starters—machines with strong community support and a trail of troubleshooting tips I can follow without weeping. It focuses on reliability, ease of maintenance, and repeatable prints.

I learned to judge a printer by what it does on day 30, not day one. Fancy features matter less than a chassis that stays true, a bed that stays level, and a nozzle that doesn’t clog every time I blink.

Materials and filament: matching plastic to purpose

PLA is the default hero: easy to print, good-looking, and odor-neutral enough that my living room doesn’t smell like a chemistry set. PETG earns a place when durability matters—kitchen hooks, outdoor gadgets—anywhere heat and sun are involved. The book treats resin like a specialty ingredient: for premium miniatures or smooth finishes, but with ventilation and safety front and center.

What I liked most is the emphasis on labeling spools with cost per gram. It turns abstract plastic into a line item I can price properly. There’s a quiet elegance to knowing a keychain’s plastic costs 28 yen instead of “some amount probably fine.”

Software and models: from file to finished

Slicer software gets a practical treatment. Save profiles, version the good ones, and resist the urge to tweak settings mid-batch because someone on a forum swears by a 3-degree temperature change. This is not a hobby when orders are due; it’s a kitchen during lunch rush.

As for design, the book encourages a mix: use existing models where licenses allow, and build my own for differentiation. It nods to parametric design—things I can resize and personalize easily—which makes customization a painless upsell instead of a rabbit hole.

Making things people actually want

The book’s most grounded advice is product selection. It suggests combining low-cost prints with high perceived value. If it solves a small, constant annoyance, it’s a candidate. If it looks like a gift people would buy twice, it’s even better.

I appreciated the emphasis on constraints: print times under three hours for most items, minimal supports, and post-processing I can do while humming along to something cheerful. I don’t need a masterpiece that takes nine hours and sells once; I need a workhorse that sells weekly.

Niche ideas and the “small problem” test

The book offers a trick I’ve adopted: list five frustrations in your home and work life, then search for printable solutions you could improve. Think cable holders tailored to a specific desk, adapters for an appliance, or organizers for a hobby community whose needs are oddly specific.

I tried this and found two ideas by the time my coffee was cool. I also found that imagining my ideal customer as one specific person kept me honest. If I wouldn’t gift it to that person, it probably doesn’t pass the sniff test.

Customization is the quiet gold mine

Names, dates, monograms, colors: the book shows how to make personalization feel substantial without making me pull out my hair. It suggests templated designs where text or small components change. I now think of customization like adding syrup to a latte—easy for me, delightful for them, and entirely worth a few extra coins.

There’s also a warning: keep a log of exactly what I changed for each order. The day someone asks for a matching item six months later, I’ll be the hero who still knows which font and shade of blue I used.

The money math I actually used

Let’s talk numbers, because the book does, and it does so with a kind of humble clarity I can get behind. It divides costs into material, machine time, labor, and overhead. It suggests converting printer time into an hourly rate the way a salon charges for chair time: the machine is working, so it has a price.

It also argues for pricing based on value, not just input costs. If I’m solving a problem that saves someone time or brightens their day, the price can reflect that—so long as quality and service hold up their end of the bargain.

A pricing method that doesn’t make me stare at the wall

Here’s the method I adopted from the book’s approach:

• Material cost: weigh the finished piece or estimate from the slicer; add a little for failures and supports.
• Machine time cost: set a per-hour rate for the printer that covers wear, electricity, and upkeep.
• Labor: include my time for prep, post-processing, and packing at a sane hourly rate.
• Overhead: a small percentage to cover incidentals—tape, bags, labels, and the countless tiny things that mysteriously vanish.

Then I add a margin so I’m not just paying myself a polite compliment. The book keeps this simple and repeatable, which is the only way I won’t avoid it.

Can 100,000 yen a month happen?

Yes, with the right mix of products and workflow. The book estimates that a stable catalog of a few popular items—priced correctly and produced efficiently—can reach that figure, especially across multiple marketplaces. It doesn’t pretend it’s easy money; it suggests it’s doable money.

What made it believable to me is the timeline. It mentions that the first month might be mostly setup and learning, the second month the first trickle of sales, and the next few months where systems pay off. Not a fireworks show—more like a steady parade.

Workflow that makes me look organized

This section felt like the chef’s notes behind a successful lunch service. I had always been casual about my process; the book made me tight and tidy, which turned out to be oddly satisfying.

It highlights batch work: print in runs, prep multiple orders together, and line up packaging steps so I don’t feel like a harried raccoon rummaging through a recycling bin.

Print farm basics, even if I only have one machine

Even one printer can be scheduled like a small factory. The book suggests daytime for oversight-heavy prints and overnight for trusted, dialed-in parts. There’s a rhythm to it: morning checks, midday cleaning, evening prep. On weekends, run bigger batches when I can babysit a little more.

It also plants the idea that a second printer only makes sense when my queue consistently outpaces capacity and my QC process is bulletproof. Two unreliable printers do not make a reliable business; they make a duet of chaos.

Quality control: catching trouble before it ships

The book’s QC advice is blessedly practical: check adhesion, surface quality, critical dimensions, and moving parts. If it snaps, it should snap on purpose. If it fits, it should fit comfortably, not as a dare.

I made a five-point checklist I now keep on a card. I run through it like a pilot, which is much more dignified than winging it and apologizing later in messages.

Packaging that treats customers like human beings

When someone opens a box, they meet me. The book reminds me to pack like I care. It recommends consistent boxes and protection around corners and protrusions. It nudges me to include a small thank-you card with tips, which turns out to cost pennies and yield goodwill.

Shipping in Japan gets a clear nod to Yamato and Japan Post, with suggestions to choose predictable services and standard sizes I can remember without calculating every time. Outside Japan, the same principle applies: pick carriers I can trust and avoid the kind of shipping that makes people look out the window in worry.

Selling channels: going where customers already are

The book knows its home turf: Minne and Creema for handmade, Mercari for broad reach, Yahoo! Auctions and Rakuma for bargain hunters, and specialty platforms like BOOTH or BASE for creative goods and direct sales. I found this part particularly useful, because it feels like a map with actual street names.

Each marketplace gets practical advice on listing style, category choices, and how to handle messages that show up at midnight with urgent questions about magenta.

Social media and the soft sell

Rather than screaming into the void, the book advises showing behind-the-scenes snippets: time-lapses, material choices, gentle humor. Also, answer common questions publicly so people feel informed, not sold to.

It recommends picking one platform and showing up consistently. In my case, one well-lit post a week with short captions beats a flood of content I can’t maintain.

Local markets can still be magic

Even in a digital world, the book gently reminds me that a face-to-face sale at a local event can jumpstart momentum. People want to touch and ask questions. Also, it turns out I enjoy seeing someone smile at a thing I made. If that’s not profit, I don’t know what is.

The short version: don’t overlook real tables and real humans. They buy, but they also tell friends.

Legal and ethical basics I needed to hear

The book does not wave a wagging finger; it simply lays out the guardrails so I don’t end up apologizing to a stranger with a law degree. It spells out the usual pitfalls of intellectual property, safety considerations, and product claims.

I walked away with a respectful caution: it’s better to be the person who writes “compatible with” than the person who borrows a brand name like a teenager wearing a parent’s perfume.

Intellectual property, licensing, and “compatible with”

Use original designs or licensed models. If a big company’s logo appears in your listing, it should be with permission, not optimism. The book draws a clean line: inspiration is one thing; imitation is a courtroom.

For replacement parts, “compatible with Model X” is the phrasing that keeps me out of trouble. The book also suggests drafting a simple “fit note” and using accurate measurements, neither of which requires an attorney—just honesty.

Safety, materials, and honest claims

If something touches food or hangs on a wall above a sleeping human, the burden is on me to be careful. The book’s advice is to avoid promises I can’t test and to state the material and intended use plainly. This is not fear-mongering; it’s respect.

I added a one-line safety note to listings where relevant. It felt good to be thoughtful instead of assuming everything will be fine because it’s cute.

The writing style and pace

If I were grading teachers, I’d give the author “calm math teacher who also enjoys crafts.” The prose doesn’t stray off into the weeds; it stays where the instructions are. It occasionally lightens the mood with examples that feel plucked from real shop floors.

I read it in two evenings, then revisited sections with a highlighter like a person with plans. It doesn’t waste my time, which may be the highest compliment I can give a business book.

What I tried after reading

I like books that make my hands itch to do something. This one did. I picked one practical item, one giftable item, and one customizable item. I listed them on two platforms, resisted the urge to underprice, and waited.

It felt both terrifying and fun—the way a first date feels when you’ve had just enough coffee to be charming.

My first product and how I kept it sane

I started with a cable clip set designed to fit a specific desk thickness because the generic ones never quite held. I printed in PLA, offered three color options, and wrote the listing like a helpful person, not a shouting megaphone. Two days later, the first order came from someone who admitted they measured twice because the listing told them to. I felt seen.

I shipped it in a small box with a thank-you card. When they left a review praising the fit, I screenshot it like it was a baby photo and sent it to a friend who had shown only courteous interest up to that point.

What went wrong, and why I didn’t cry

A week in, I ran a batch with a nozzle that had quietly decided to retire mid-shift. The result was a family of slightly under-extruded parts that looked fine until touched. The book’s quality checklist saved me from sending sadness. I reprinted, ate the time, and shipped on schedule.

Was it inconvenient? Yes. Did I feel like a capable craftsperson instead of a disaster artist? Also yes.

Where the book falls short

No book can be my wise uncle and my accountant, and this one is no exception. It’s not a deep tutorial in 3D design software, and it won’t turn me into a filament chemist. It also doesn’t compare every machine on the market; it points me toward reliable categories and tells me to pick based on support and reputation.

If I wanted case studies with raw sales data, I’ll admit I would have liked more of that. There are examples, but they are, understandably, generalized. That said, the specificity in process makes up for the absence of anyone’s exact ledger.

Who should read this

• I’m curious about selling 3D printed products and want a realistic blueprint.
• I own a printer that keeps making trinkets for my desk and I’d prefer it also made rent money for my desk.
• I like systems, checklists, and small wins that add up over a season, not a single weekend.

If I’m already running a multi-printer farm with automated plate swapping, I’ll still find little efficiencies here, but this isn’t an advanced operator’s manual. It’s a beginner-to-early-intermediate handbook with strong business bones.

Tips I wish someone had told me sooner (which this book did)

• Track filament usage by grams, not vibes. Numbers set you free.
• Photograph small items with a common object for scale and a clean background. Intelligence loves clarity.
• Write one paragraph of “care and usage” and save it. Paste everywhere. Trust me.
• Do not print overnight until you’ve run a design successfully three times. It’s the difference between sleep and pacing.
• Keep spare nozzles, Bowden clips, and a bottle of compressed air. They cost less than a ruined weekend.
• Price higher than your very polite instincts suggest—if service and quality deserve it. People don’t just buy plastic; they buy “this works.”
• Keep an order log with customer notes. Six months later, you’ll be the magician who remembers.
• If a product keeps getting questions about the same detail, fix the listing, not your patience.
• Print a test coupon that checks tolerance fit. Run it before you touch a big batch. You’ll feel brilliant.

Frequently asked questions I had that the book answered

• How big a budget do I need to start? Modest. A solid entry-level printer, a few spools, basic tools, and packaging supplies. Think sensible, not showy.
• Do I need to learn advanced CAD to sell? Not at first. Basic adjustments and customization go a long way. Over time, learning parametric design pays off.
• What about failed prints—is that just part of the business? Yes, but it’s a tax you can reduce. Standardized profiles and post-print inspection save money and dignity.
• Is resin printing worth it starting out? Only if your product category needs it. It demands ventilation, careful handling, and different post-processing. It’s a premium path, not a first step.
• How fast can I get to 100,000 yen a month? The book frames it as a few steady months if I have good niches and consistent listings. It’s not a sprint; it’s a routine.
• Should I start on one marketplace or many? Start with one or two. Learn the ropes, then expand. Clarity first, reach second.
• What if a customer returns something? Be fair, be prompt, and treat every return as a memo: something to fix in product or listing.

Comparing this to other resources I’ve read and watched

I’ve seen courses that gush over fast prints and “print farm” fantasies without explaining shipping labels. This book is grounded in the day-to-day steps that actually make sales feel easy. It teaches the boring parts so the fun parts stay fun.

It’s not the place for an engineering thesis on nozzle dynamics. It is the place for “how do I stop wasting Saturday afternoons?” which, frankly, was my question all along.

My small experiment: numbers and consequence

To make this review useful, I set a modest goal. For four weeks, I followed the book’s approach. I offered three products:

• A practical desk clip with size options
• A giftable plant label set with customizable text
• A simple wall hook rated conservatively, with clear install instructions

I priced with intent, photographed carefully, and wrote one helpful paragraph per listing. Orders came in a trickle. By the end of the month, I wasn’t at the big headline number, but I had a process that felt like it could scale. More importantly, I had reviews that praised clarity and fit, which I now think of as free advertising on slow days.

If I keep the tempo and add one or two winners, the 100,000 yen figure stops feeling like a billboard promise and starts feeling like a spreadsheet possibility.

The intangibles I didn’t expect

There’s a quiet pleasure in making something that leaves my table and lands on someone else’s. The book didn’t promise that feeling, but it facilitated it by removing a lot of silly obstacles I had put in my own way. It made me less precious and more professional, which is a good transformation for both my wallet and my temperament.

It also made me kinder to my future self. Documenting settings, standardizing packaging, and writing down SKUs are small acts of future hospitality. The future me deserves fewer mysteries and more checkmarks.

Final verdict: should I buy and follow this book?

If I’m a beginner with a 3D printer and a goal to earn a steady side income, this book is absolutely worth it. The guidance is practical, the tone respectful, and the steps are specific enough to act on immediately. I finished with a plan, not a headache.

The promise of 100,000 yen a month is presented as a reachable milestone for a focused producer who picks good products and shows up consistently. The book gives me the framework to get there without burning out or turning my home into a chaotic lab.

I don’t need a genius idea. I need a reliable process, patient iteration, and a handful of goods that make strangers’ lives a little easier or a little nicer. This book made me feel that was not only possible, but also pleasant. And if pleasant can pay the phone bill, I’m all in.

Disclosure: As an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases.