You’ve come at a good time. I’ve got a new project announcement; stick around ‘til the end to read about it. It’s time for a Side Quest.

If you’ve been following along, you know I’m working on a monthly challenge to get better at sketching, and something happened this week that changed everything.

First, a quick recap and update of how the sketches have been going. It starts ugly, but has quickly become something I’m almost not embarrassed to share with others.

For the first few images, I was not having a good time, and around the fifth or sixth image, I relented and went back to YouTube to study up and improve my approach, which netted positive results. The image below was done from that instructed session.

I obviously do not live in a quaint European village, so these images were taken from the provided source material, and maybe you can’t see it, but I definitely saw a significant difference between what I was sketching before this and everything after. I wouldn’t call it a breakthrough yet, though, because that moment came today.

This weekend, I was at a swim meet, and while I waited for his time in the pool, I broke out the sketchbook, opened Pinterest, and found a contemporary brutalist style home to sketch.

It’s better than most of what I made earlier, but far from my favorite sketch, but what makes this one special is that it stuck with me. There was something about the process of this image that made me remember it more than the rest.

Aphantasia is not a Disney Movie

I have aphantasia, a naturally occurring neurological variation characterized by the inability to voluntarily visualize mental images in one’s “mind’s eye”, but more on that later! If you ask me to picture an red apple in my mind, not only do I struggle to see the color, but I can hardly picture the apple at all, even though I know what one looks like.

I don’t have verifiable proof of any of this, but it’s why I believe I lean toward abstraction in my art, and why I mostly work intuitively, without a plan; because I can’t ever execute on a vision that I struggle to see in the first place.

Today, instead of sketching in my book, I wanted to try sketching on my ipad in Procreate, but instead of grabbing a source image, I made this one from memory.

Obviously not an exact copy, but I haven’t been able to do this in a very long time. If you had asked me at the beginning of the month to render any building from memory other than my own home, I might struggle with it. Why this one vs. the donut shop from above, or the urban single-family home from above? Maybe it was the recency, or my affinity for the brutalist aesthetic, or maybe it was that I didn’t need to imagine much perspective.

What matters is that I’ve picked up things that have stuck, and if I’m honest, I actually like the more recent version than the original. It feels more like my hand instead of the hand used to copy an image I found on Pinterest.

The big question now is, what do I do with all of this new skill? How will this affect my art going forward, or is it simply an escape to avoid going into my un-air conditioned studio to make are when it’s nearly 90 degrees outside.

That question and more get answered on Friday.

Side Quest

I’ve been working on a project in the background, a little bit at a time, with the intention to launch in September. Things were going ok, but something felt a little off-balanced about it. The ideas were good, but they elements we’re gelling. Then I watched a random video on YouTube where the person suddenly deviated from their main content because they had an impulse to make something random.

They referred to their dalliance as a side quest, but when I heard that, it changed the entire trajectory of my project; even the title, which I’d built my whole thesis around. Oddly enough, though, the name works even better for my concept.

Side Quest is my new, monthly print publication; a zine concept where I share art, ideas, and a challenge to make things. There will be inspiration, materials, goodies, and for a select few, original art.

This new cohesion just happened yesterday, so things are fresh and unfinished. I don’t have all of the pieces in place in order to share, but by next Tuesday, you’ll have all the details, and a unique opportunity to get in on the project in a way nobody else can after this month.

Drop a comment in the chat if you’re ready to go on a Side Quest with me.

Leave a comment

Until next week,

Cheers,

Dave

This week really got away from me. Between volunteer duties and swim/taxi dad duties, I’ve been run ragged. So I’m keeping this post simple and just handing over this month’s digital asset pack.

It’s called Threshold; 20 high resolution images all in high-contrast black and white, for the intention of using as overlays, backgrounds, or whatever you want…

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What if the answer isn’t more of the same, but less? What if there’s more connection to the things we make than we originally thought? Imagine if the real answer to getting to the good work was as simple as sitting down.

This update was supposed to be a members-only post, but as I got into it, I realized the info was too good to not share with everyone. I’m not the master of these valuable lessons, but for reasons that will reveal themselves shortly, I either learned or re-acquainted myself with them in such a powerful way, it’s hard to imagine how I made anything before this moment.

Brute Force

I am nothing more than a clod; point me in a direction and I’ll trample my way through. When in doubt, I barreled my way into creativity, knocking over paint supplies, art tools, and empty sketch journals to put my grips into whatever thing I was making in that moment. That process can be fun at times, but it’s also energy consuming, often draining my creative batteries fast, sometimes to a fault where I end up not making anything for weeks or months.

I recently saw a pop artist on Instagram who has a similar method, except with every mark he made, he would throw his tools or other items in the studio at the painting. Every. Single. Time! I was exhausted by the end of it, and besides the highly performative nature of it, I just couldn’t imagine doing that same schtick every single day.

When I started July’s sketching project, I started with brute force, and the results are obvious. I wasn’t happy and grew tired of it quickly. I thought about stopping early, but I didn’t want to go back on my personal commitment. Instead of brute force, though, I went looking for assistance, and it came in the form of an empathetic British artist on YouTube who led me to the first lesson.

Simple, Thoughtful, Momentum

There’s a phrase used in auto racing, “Slow is fast.” That counterintuitive statement is at the core of racing, and it’s why some people are fast racers while others win races. Winning is less about speed and more about fluidity. It’s about knowing what you car can do, what it can’t do, and using the stability and momentum of the car to get around turns efficiently, instead of hauling ass in the straights only to burn down the brakes at every corner.

It’s why in the 1960s, the Mini Cooper S won a significant amount of races against the Ford Falcons and Mercedes 300s of the era. Though the Minis would fall behind in the straight-aways, they would pull ahead in the corners of Monte Carlo (which there are many) because of stability and momentum.

You may not care about auto racing, but this week I learned how to sketch like a Mini Cooper, using efficiency and momentum to carry me through each line. I learned to begin with simplicity, finding the basic shapes of the subject instead of running toward accuracy. I used slow, steady movements to add simple details, and as the image began to take shape, I finished with shadows and highlights to bring the images to life.

I’m still a long way from being great at sketching, but comparing these two images side by side, I can see how simplifying my technique has taken me through the curves of this challenge much quicker than I could with my previous technique.

This is bigger than just sketching, though. This week, I made my first mixed media collages in months, and without thinking about it, I made five in two full days.

This From That

I have a big project that I’m launching in September (members get this info sooner), and part of it will require a specific style of collage. Since I had not touched paper collage in a long time, I felt the need to practice. By the time you read this, I’ll be several collages deep, but I’m working much different than normal.

My work is always starts from intuition; I rarely have a theme, idea, or goal in mind. I work impulsively and all-too-often, it’s only finished when I’ve run out of space, or I’ve overworked the piece. I’m trying to be more intentional with this current work, not just to slow things down, but also because I want what I produce to be replicable by others.

I’ve probably said too much, and smart people who know me well may be able to put the clues together, but the lesson that seems to keep smacking me in the face is that the creative experiments are not randomly divergent. They serve the purpose of lending lessons to everything I make. The photo work from June helped me understand that I can create the imagery I want and use those in my final projects as much as I can the images from the magazines I stole from my dentist’s office.

A.I.T.C.

This is by far the most important lesson, but also the easiest, with two simple steps.

↣ Clean the workspace. After cleaning off both my office and studio desks so that I could work, I came to the conclusion that I made them both impossible to work on as a way to sabotage myself. The clean(er) workspace made it much easier for me to say yes to working.

↣ Put your ass in the chair. I know it’s a simple and obvious thought, but when you are finding the resistance to get work done, perhaps you just need to see your ass down, grab a sketchbook, notepad, laptop, or canvas and make something, anything, even if it’s total crap.

I’ve done this for many days in a row, and this morning, I found myself wandering out to the studio without thinking about it. That’s a privilege I need to acknowledge—maybe you have other obligations, like kids and family, or those pesky jobs that actually require your attention in order to get the money you need for art supplies.

I know that sometimes the last thing you want to do is immediately jump into work after you’ve spent your energy on those other things, but if you if you have the power, AITC time is the best thing I’ve found to my productivity woes.

Coincidentally, I’m sitting in a chair right now, so there’s the receipts.

Connecting the Dots

I saw a short video recently where a person needed wrapping paper for a present, but didn’t have any, so they used crate paper they had in the studio and with some stamps and paint pens, made their own. However, this wasn’t your auntie’s craft project, because upon deeper investigation, the style and motifs were carried over from her creative work.

Not only does the receiver of the gift get a second gift with the hand-decorated paper, but they get a reminder of the talent of the artist. If there was a party involved, every person at that party was likely steaming with jealousy of how that one package sat prominently against the backdrop of all the store-bought bags and wrappings.

It made me wonder how much that artist carried over her style and motifs into other parts of her life. Need cloth napkins? Dye them yourself. Want to repaint your table lamps? Get down with your bad self. Whether they’re making canvases, home goods, gift bags, or painting the walls of their studio.

Again, this may seem obvious, but how often have you turned to the easy approach to something like wrapping paper and gift cards instead of making your own, in your style, as a reminder to your friends and family that you make cool shit and they should buy all of it?

As I write this, I feel like I’m just scratching the surface of this idea, and it would require changing my thinking around everything. “Could I make this myself?” That should be the pervasive question, and I’m going to do my best to consider it whenever I find myself in consumption mode.

The more I do this, the more I’ll share.

Cheers,

Dave

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Quick Note: I’m moving the schedule around a little (always experimenting). Going forward, occasional regular posts will go out on Tuesdays and members only posts on Fridays. Please adjust your alarm clocks.

Becoming a better illustrator is another one of those things that I’ve wanted to work on, but never took to it in a thoughtful way. My vigorously scribbled figures and completely out of perspective architecture sketches were enough to keep me away.

I took my fair share of drawing classes in college. I can draw glasses of water against a shadowed background, and can usually come reasonably close to drawing a human in repose, but there’s something about being able to draw funky, quirky, characters with a particular style that eludes me, which is short-hand for being too impatient to stick with it long enough to get the results.

Of course, real illustration comes from time and repetition, which as a creative who is always chasing the next butterfly, isn’t in the cards for me unless I force the issue.

So let’s force the issue.

July’s monthly challenge started a little early because I was almost too eager to begin (which typically means I’ll be ready to give it up in about 17 days), but I’m taking this entire month to focus on regular urban sketching. That means planting myself on the patio of a cafe with nothing more than a sketchbook, a 1mm gel pen (I like ‘em bold and messy, big surprise), and coffee big enough to get me through 20-30 minutes of sketching whatever is sitting directly in my line of sight.

1. Will this help build up the habit?

2. Will I be able to get to some level of style that feels like something I could improve upon?

3. How does any of this relate to whatever real work I’m trying to make?

Let’s address that last question first, because if I learned anything from June’s challenge, it’s that I have absolutely no idea where this ends up. The questions I had in the beginning only got in the way of the real lesson. The exercise wasn’t meant to become a new talent, but to add a new layer to the vision I have for my work, whatever that might be.

Of course I’m taking that lesson forward into this month’s challenge, but I might end up being completely wrong, so I refuse to limit myself with expectations.

As far as building up a habit, I’m realistic, and it will depend on how well I do with question #2. If I do start to establish some sort of style/method, or at the very least, a steadier hand, then the habit will more likely take hold. I’m a results oriented creative. I like the process, but if the process isn’t working, I’m moving on to something else, usually something that’s easy, but the point of these challenges is to keep myself out of that comfortable space.

And then there’s you.

The uncomfortable is where true art exists… I think

That old adage of someday never comes is true. There’s a someday thing on your list and you’ve avoided it for months or years, but why? Time? Money? FEAR?

Why would anyone want to make a deep investment into a new creative exploration unless they could guarantee some results? You might tell yourself it’s time or money, but the those are surface level excuses we give ourselves so we don’t admit that the core issue is fear.

I know because I can read our mind. It reads exactly like mine—scared to jump into anything new because you don’t want another plaque on the wall of other failed attempts. You don’t want to imagine the faces of family, friends, or fans as they look down at you and your pathetic attempt to try something new.

With all due respect to your family, friends, and fans, but FUCK THEM!

I know, harsh, but I’m not here to placate them. I’m here for you, and I believe that when we’re together, there isn’t a single creative project that’s safe. We can tackle them all, but only if we go in with zero expectations.

Not how I saw this playing out

When I first found my way to Substack (before the Notes app), I was recommended the art and musings of , an urban sketch artist who has refined his style to a minimal approximation of his surroundings. He’s a master of his craft and the simplicity drew me in (no pun intended). Honestly, it was his work that made me want to attempt urban sketching in the first place, but my initial attempts were absolute trash—I wouldn’t dare show them. However, Nishant persists.

He shares his sketches and journeys weekly, and the constant reminder of me not being able to do it made me want to unsubscribe many times. I didn’t want to be faced with the reality that I never gave sketching an honest effort.

At the same time, there’s this lingering feeling that if I do use his lessons, find my way to sketching more often, will I risk being a copy cat? Will my work end up looking like I want nothing more from it but for people to call me out for being a wannabe? The professionals in the room know that’s a foolish notion, because Nishant’s are not the only lessons I’m taking from, but it certainly makes for another good excuse for me to not try.

And maybe that’s you too. Maybe you’re worried you’ll lose yourself in someone else’s work? Maybe you’ll move so far out of your lap of comfort that you’ll end up in the lap of another while also distancing yourself from what you once were.

And I suppose that’s the real challenge, and what I’ll be using this month to discover. Can I study from the likes of Nishant and other sketch artists to find myself. Will I be able to strip away the styles I’m borrowing from the people I admire and find something that’s mine?

That’s the question I’ll be sitting with for this month, and what I’m working out in the open with members, starting this Friday.

If you want to watch that play out in real time, upgrade today. Members are also getting an exclusive asset pack pulled from last month's challenge — grit and color to drop straight into your own work.

Subscribe now

The next member-only post comes out this Friday. Don’t miss out.

Cheers,

Dave

Make sure to stick to the end because I have an idea that you may be into.

Each month, I am investigating new ways to explore creativity and seeing how they improve my work and life. My challenge for July will be urban sketching; spending as many days as I can sketching the environment around my city. I’ve always wanted to be a better sketcher, but can I make it happen in a single month? Subscribe if you want to see what happens.

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I learned things, but not what you might expect

The chances of me being able to dramatically improve my photography skills in only 30 days (and let’s be honest, only a handful of actual shooting days) are close to zero, but I did manage to gain some knowledge.

• I learned that real photographers looking to take legitimate photos plan their opportunities better. They pick their locations better, check for the right time of day to go out, and they definitely make sure their gear is operational

• I learned that it’s best to update my knowledge on picking the right camera settings, and become well acquainted with the operational aspects of the device before I’m in the field.

• Most importantly, I learned that I wasn’t trying to become the next Ansel Adams or Saul Leiter. My job is to be competent enough take photos worthy of using in my work so that I can become the best version of Dave Conrey, the artist.

This past week, I was on vacation with my family in Central California. Considering my original intent for this challenge was taking pictures of urban environments, I definitely put myself in a sticky predicament. There’s really not a lot of urban in Cambria, California, and anything worthy of the grit I look for is usually painted over. I did find this defunct utility box, though. Technically, it’s still painted over, I suppose.

Did I manage a few good photos this month? Absolutely, and I definitely took enough photos to know that it takes dozens (or hundreds) of shots to find even one worthy of being called great, but I don’t really want to be a great photographer.

What I got out of this monthly jaunt is to open my eyes more, see the world, absorb what I find important, cast out what isn’t, and use the things I capture as elements within my work going forward. I’m not taking photos to hang on my wall. I’m taking moments of my life to use for my future work.

Going forward, any of these monthly challenges will be looked at through that lense of discovery—how does what I’m doing add to what I want for my creative work. With that in mind, I’m already looking at July as a new opportunity without any expectations.

Wild idea I probably won’t pursue, but maybe you should

I keep getting served ads from this account on Instagram called Petrol Post, and the concept is that they sends out snail mail monthly to their paid subscribers, featuring a particular luxury, performance, or exotic vehicle. Every month, a subscriber gets a mini poster a vehicle schematic, stickers, Polaroids (more on that in a moment), and information about the vehicle’s origin and history.

I love this idea, and I think that it could be applied to many different niches (with a huge caveat).

I believe print is beginning to reach a nostalgic tipping point. Perhaps it’s just my feed, but I am seeing more people sharing magazines they’re making, scenes, art, prints, and projects like this one. I’m taking this to me that people are tired of Only living through our digital existence, and they are looking for something more real, tangible; something they can hold in their hand.

A monthly subscription of any of these things would need a certain level of fanaticism behind it. I came up in the automotive magazine world, and so I understand why cars are a big thing for some people. Will subscribers buy into this model forever? Probably not, but they will probably enjoy it for a short period at least, and maybe an extended period, sharing what they have with their other enthusiast friends.

Here are just a few ideas that it came Up with off the top of my head.

• Monthly Lego designs using bricks somebody already has.

• Needlepoint, knitting, macramé, or sewing patterns

• Fantasy sports players of the month mixed with strategies and commentary

• Whiskey/wine/ coffee drinkers blend of the month

• Famous golf courses combined with virtual caddy strategies

• Retro/vintage HiFi stereos, computer tech, or video games

• Anything kids: dinosaurs, heavy, equipment, trucks, vintage dolls, miniature scale, model cars. This one would require you to be careful of intellectual property, but there are workarounds

• Cosplay, LARPing, manga, or anime

• Role-play board or card games like DND, magic, the gathering, etc.

• Any music genre with a fanatical fan base. The hot tip here would be to go indie or underground with the occasional touch on hot artists.

If you are an enthusiast in a category that comes with a certain level of fanaticism where others like you might appreciate a project like this, it’s something to consider. There’s a ton of work involved, And the real money is made in the volume (more subscribers), But even as a labor of love, this could give you and your closest compatriots a little bit of joy.

That leads me to the question, if you were going to tackle a project like this, what niche or genre would you pick?

if you made it this far, I want to apologize in advance for any typos or weird things that might’ve occurred that don’t read right. I had a critical computer failure, and I had to finish this entire post on my phone, using voice dictate because my fat thumbs are too much to bear in scenarios like that.

Thanks for your patience, and I’ll see you next week.

Dave

I’m going to get this out of the way real quick so we can get to business. You’re going to learn two things real quick.

1. How an adventure to find vintage street signs around my city turned out to be the catalyst for something else.

2. That something else is a brand new digital asset pack, filled with 17 high-resolution images, which I put together to share with you before anyone else.

However, if were are a paid member, you’d get it, and any future asset packs, 100% free. Now would be a perfect opportunity to become a member.

Subscribe now

Last week, published a fantastic article about the history of the midcentury, vacuum-form signage that was ubiquitous in the 60 and 70s. It’s a fascinating read, and when I found out that one of the primary companies that established the style was originally based in my town, I decided to make it part of my monthly photography project.

The thing about towns like Long Beach, CA is that they are constantly trying to shuck their blue collar roots. Between the main thoroughfares and the industrial side streets, there were likely hundreds of these formed plastic or fiberglass signs around town, but most have been stripped away and replaced with something of far less character.

Most, but not all…

It turns out that there are far less of these around than I originally suspected; replaced by more modern interpretations. I was operating on a limited schedule, so I couldn’t do a truly thorough search of the city. Despite not finding more gold nuggets, it was definitely not a loss.

As I drove around the city, I wasn’t just looking for signs to photograph, but also keeping an eagle-eyed watch out for some of my most favorite things: Textures! If it’s distressed, dilapidated, torn, rusted, cracked, or falling apart; I’m paying attention. My camera roll is filled with images of urban decay, from the chipped paint and stained concreted, to the heavily worn and weathered typography that has overstayed its welcome on whatever surface it's barely hanging onto.

Most of these textures don’t find their way into my work, but some do, and the rest are waiting in the wings for their chance to become something more than grunge. Just because I’m not using them, though, doesn’t mean they’re not worthy of being used. I pride myself on finding interesting textures wherever I travel, but instead of hogging them all to myself, I’m going to provide them to you.

Remnants Vol. 1 is a collection of high-resolution abstract images pulled from my ongoing obsession with finding art in the urban environment. Grit, grunge, decay, industrial pattern are the visual language I keep coming back to, and now you can use them too.

Buy Remnants Vol. 1

Use them as overlays in your digital work, backgrounds in your designs, or print them out and tear them up for your physical pieces. They’re yours to use however your creative instincts take you. They’re royalty free, full commercial license to use in your art. You just can’t resell them to your homies.

But if you want the absolute best deal ever; become a member today and get immediate access to this set and all future sets as long as you stay a member.

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When I finally got my ass off the couch and out into the world, I realized that real creativity isn’t always found by doing things, but instead, by experiencing them.

This story is part of this month’s creative exploration series. If you missed last week’s introduction, check it out here:

Side Note: I have a big announcement below. I’m bringing something back that will make being a member even more valuable, so stick around for that.

So there I am, sand warming from the midday sun, the waves lapping at my ankles, and people encroaching into my personal space with each passing minute. There’s hundreds of people staring out at the ocean, all of them waiting for the majesty and mayhem of nature’s fury while a couple dozen brave souls get tossed around in the froth, pushing aside fear as 20-foot monsters come crashing down on their heads.

Every summer in California, warm water is pushed up from Mexico from storms in the mid-Pacific. These south swells usually create some of the best surf conditions across the southern part of the state, but every once in a while, we get a swell so heavy that it creates epic conditions, resulting in the largest (and often most dangerous) waves, especially for one famous surf spot; The Wedge.

Whenever a South is headed our way, the news travels fast; first with the amateur climatologists, then the surf watch websites, through the different crews of local surfers, and eventually to the normies who have only heard the legends but never experienced them.

I grew up near Newport Beach, the home of The Wedge, and frequented the beach almost daily in my early summers. I’ve surfed that beach many times, but never in these conditions. That wave is a thrill ride on regular days, but unpredictable and terrifying on it’s biggest, but always a spectacle.

It’s probably been twenty years since I went down to see the waves in action, and honestly had no intention to go because I live 45 minutes away and gas is expensive, but on Tuesday morning, I saw a random video on Instagram talking about the big South hitting the area, and on a whim, decided to go see the action.

I unearthed my photography gear, which I had not used in years, from the closet only to find it dustry and badly mismanaged. All of my batteries were dead and my SD cards were missing. I started charging one battery and then dug out the large power station we use for emergencies so I could charge the other batteries while I drove down (yes, this was an emergency). I packed the power station, my tripod, and my camera bag into my truck and headed South, opting for a trip down the coast instead of the highway, so I could see the conditions on all the beaches along the way.

The Wedge is located at the very end of the Balboa Peninsula, which on days like this, creates a heavy choke point for traffic. It was crowded and I was worried I would have to park a long distance from the spot and walk in (I thought about bringing my skateboard, but since I hadn’t been on that in years either, I didn’t want to risk a broken hip). I got lucky though; as I neared the location, another guy in a truck was pulling out, leaving me the perfect-sized space to occupy and less than 100 yards from the beach entrance—this was going to be an epic day, I could feel it already.

I parked, grabbed the camera, tripod, and one battery to charge in case I needed to come back and get it. People were everywhere, as were amateur photographers carrying the kind of gear I wish I had but didn’t. I never felt the need for an ultra-long lens, so my meager 200mm kit lens would have to do, but I would find out soon enough that it wouldn’t do at all.

I found a gap in the lineup of other spectators and shooters, unpacked my gear, set up my tripod, and waited for the action. As I was getting ready, I noticed my camera’s operating system wasn’t working correctly. I couldn’t adjust my focal settings, or at least the readout wasn’t displaying them. I also couldn’t see the screen on the back. Between the high-noon sun and my dark sunglasses, reading anything was near impossible, and without the sunglasses, I’m too blind to read anything. I was going to have to wing it. I only had about ninety minutes before I had to head home to grab my son from school, so I made the most of it; taking photos of the waves, the surfers, the lifeguards, and the crowd.

The energy was high; everyone was hooting and hollering for the big sets and cheering on the brave ones that took their shot at greatness along the face of a wave large enough to pulverize the on the sandy bottom. One surfer got smashed hard, came up for air, but was struggling as another monster barreled down in front of him, and then another. Two lifeguards immediately went into action to grab the young man, but even then struggled to maintain their footing. The amount of water that comes rushing in is met with near-equal power of the water trying to get back out, creating a washing machine effect that would tear down the largest and strongest of men.

The crowd grew quiet as the situation became more harrowing, but two more guards went in to assist, and eventually pulled the young man to shore. Everyone cheered but then immediately turned their attention to the next big set of waves coming in, these. ones larger than the last.

I’ve lived by the beach most of my life, grew up in the water. I’ve been to the North Shore of Oahu and seen some big waves, but nothing like these monster walls that were rolling in. I felt so fortunate to be here witnessing this event, celebrating the magnificence of Mother Nature with hundreds of strangers, but my time was short, and I had to leave.

It felt like taking a wave on the head

When I got home, I had to drop my gear and immediately run out the door to pick up the kid. We came home, ate some food, and then headed out to take him to swim practice. I was smart enough to grab the SD card and computer so I could go through the shots while he swam, but then my heart sank.

The first few shots were underexposed, but not terribly and could be adjusted. However, those were test shots, not really meant for anything dynamic or interesting. Then there were the shots with my long lens, and every single one of them was desperately over exposed.

I went into this excursion with the intent to experiment with photography as I mentioned in last week’s article, and though I had been taking photos of urban signage and architecture throughout the week, and though some of these waves were as big as buildings, this landscape work was a departure. In the moment, though, the adventure was more important than sticking to the subject matter. My curiosity won out despite knowing I probably wouldn’t come away with any great photos.

I was upset by the results, but not entirely surprised. I knew the lens I was using was not the best. It takes a lot of management to get it to work well, but since the camera wasn’t operating correctly, I was shooting blind. As I went through the camera roll, found a few gems worth sharing, I made a realization.

This project isn’t about becoming a great photographer. It’s about finding my creative spark while doing things outside of my norm.

In that moment, I knew what to do with these seemingly worthless photos. Instead of bemoaning my lack of skill, I brought the images into my skillset. Opening my Affinity app, I started manipulating the colors, tweaking with filters, and applying creative cropping to come up with some artful gems.

I started slow with some color range adjustment and black and white conversion. Then I went into high contrast and started tweaking the saturation.

I took major liberties, turning the blasted-out images adding elements, and making something entirely new, but this is the whole point—go into the world with curiousity and turn what I find into art.

When I said above that curiosity is a greater teacher than failure, I meant it. The failure may have created an opportunity, but had I not had the instinct to get out of my comfort zone to go take photos of something I knew I would not do well, use a camera that didn’t work correctly, none of these art moments would have occurred.

Had I not done this, I would have instead driven around my city, looking for some graffiti stained building with bad typography, taken a photo with my iphone, and then posted it here. I also wouldn’t have had the beach experience or the story to share, which was definitely more interesting than driving around to random dilapidated urban neighborhoods.

Now it’s your turn

I challenge you to go out, visit a place or event that you’ve thought about but never taken action on. Take a camera, a sketchbook, a notebook to write stories in, and come back with something you can share, either by itself, or turn it into something else. Don’t just do the thing, go experience the thing. Take it all in and use that experience as the catalyst for making something.

UPDATE: I’m bringing back the digital assets

In the past, I’ve shared graphics, brushes, and other digital assets with members. Starting next week, I will be delivery graphic assets once a month as part of the membership. If you’re into that, consider upgrading today.

Subscribe now

Also, if you only want the graphics and none of the behind-the-scenes experiences, I’ll be selling them as individual packs soon, but I can promise that membership will be the much better deal. Stay tuned for that.

Cheers,

Dave

What the cool thing is, I have no idea, but I have a short window for being able to capture the morning golden hours and I cannot wait to make it happen.

I’m not (generally a photographer, so why am I excited to go take pictures of an undisclosed location without knowing what I’m doing?

Because, why the hell not?

The thing is, I’ve been in a small, creative slump lately. I haven’t generated anything truly interesting in weeks and I am starting to feel the creative muscles atrophy from my inactivity. I told myself that I would dive into some daily creative ritual, but I couldn’t stick to it, mostly because I was out of ideas. Instead of trying to pour myself into a sketchbook or digital painting app, I decided I want to explore new opportunities.

Why do they make sidewalks?*

Here’s are some creative projects I’ve had on my short list for years

• non-thrown and thrown ceramics/pottery

• street art / wheat paste

• Leather craft

• wood carved spoons/utensils

• altered clothing

• Urban/street photography

I am a creative generalist, after all. It’s definitely time I start putting that moniker into action, and why not start with an exploration of urban landscapes and street photography? How hard could it be?

Why choose photography as my first creative project? Mostly because I had the tool already in hand. All of the others (minus the wheat pasting) I need equipment and materials. I’ve already started buiding up some of the tools quietly over the last few months, but shizz is expensive these days, and though I have picked up a few new members lately, Uncle Dave ain’t rolling in dough just yet.

*Because the streets ain’t for everybody!

Tiny Experiments

That’s the title of a book I was recommended by a friend on Substack. It’s authored by Anne-Laure Le Cunff, a neuroscientist and entrepreneur who has been documenting her journey of learning in public for years.

I’m not yet finished with the book, but one part of it that resonated with me immediately is how Le Cunff shares that linear project-based goals often are the ones we abandon the most (I want to write a book. I want to run a marathon). Instead she suggests using non-linear, process-oriented goals instead (I will run 1 mile every day for a week. I will write 500 words a day).

She calls these goals P.A.C.T.s, which stands for purposeful, actionable, continuous, and trackable, and the point of the goal is to help us better understand things about ourselves; perhaps how much we love writing, or how much we hate running and need a new PACT.

My PACT with myself is that I will attempt a new creative process every month and then share my findings and results with you. This doesn’t mean I’ll be doing that project every day during the month, but I will commit to working on it at least once per week so I can write about it here. My theory is that each monthly process will add some element to my creative tool box, which then lends itself to the other projects I have going already.

This is a good time to talk about The Back Room.

That’s what I call the members area, and where I talk about the nitty gritty, behind-the-scenes work that goes behind all the projects (or processes) I’m working on. For instance, in this post, I’m sharing;

• My intention behind this month’s PACT

• Stories from the journey

• The lessons I learn along the way and how I’m using it for other things

• Things I saw but couldn’t capture

• My progression with the creative output (the photos)

• The best photo I took all week (IMHO)

Each week during the month, you’ll either get a quick update about how it’s going, or a full post (at least two guaranteed). If you want the inside track on knowing how this all plays out, subscribe or upgrade.

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I’m no trail guide, but you can follow me

The big idea here is that I would like this to become something bigger than, “Hey, let’s watch Dave mess up a creative project in public.” I’m definitely not confident enough to say that anyone would benefit from doing what I’m doing and can follow along, BUT that is the big idea. I would love to have people join the monthly PACTs, experiment, play, and indulge creative curiosity. That’s what I’m leaning toward and what you can expect in the near future.

There will be challenges, exploratory moments, mostly likely Q&As, and maybe even live discussions about the process. Think of it like elementary school arts and crafts show-n-tell. It’s going to be great.

But I digress…

Read more

There I was, standing on the fringe of a fundraising event for my son’s school sports program, surrounded by casual friends and acquaintances. It’s one of those events where everyone stands around, looking deeply into their glass of box wine, listening in to the conversations of others while trying to find a way to gracefully exit, except that would mean leaving the kid behind. Social services would frown on that part, so I stick around, but before I can make meaningful “let’s the the hell out of here,” eye contact with the boy, a parent walks up next to me from behind (that’s what I get for leaving my back to the door).

A few seconds of small talk later, it happens. They ask me the question that any multipassionate creative hates to hear because there’s never an easy answer.

“So, Dave, I don’t think I’ve ever had the chance to ask, but what is it that you do?” They mean well, and they just want to understand how I have more free time than a newly released convict. The question is so binary, but the answer in my head is always nebulous, at best.

What do I do???

I do so many things, most of them creative, and very few of them connected to one another. How the hell do I even answer that without making their eyes roll to the back of their skull? More importantly, how do I answer it without compromising my values around my work? I either pick one thing and feel like a liar, or list everything and watch their eyes glaze over. Neither answer is wrong, yet both answers are incomplete.

Most introductions are made to keep things short, to the point, and respectful of the other party’s time, but most introductions leave the other person with very little context about why they should care about us beyond that first 30-second elevator speech. Most people, when sharing who they are with others, aim for clarity, but clarity isn’t the goal; curiousity is.

The best introductions do more than tell someone what is likely the most uninteresting thing about you. A good introduction makes someone crave to know more. Tell someone what you do, and they’ll likely give you the polite head nod, a subtle, “hmm,” and shift their eyes to the tiny straw they’ve been vigorously twirling in their cocktail while they think of a way to exit the conversation gracefully.

If instead you gave them the right open-ended response, you get that tilted head, furrowed brow, with a clear moment of, “Wait, what?” written in their eyes. If you can keep that statement abstract enough to cause enough good confusion, but relatable enough for them to ground it in their reality, they’ll invariably ask for more information.

“But isn’t that just another elevator speech?”

Sure, if you want to keep things binary, but for me, what I’m now telling people about me is about my internal belief more than it is a moniker to share with the normies. You can have the perfect words to make things more comfortable for someone, but still hedge when you deliver them. When I tell people who I am, it comes from a sense of conviction and purpose. The sentence is just the opening the door.

I wrote this whole thing so you never have to hedge again when confronted with making the choice on which hat to put on when someone asks that question; your life experiences don’t fit neatly into one answer. Also, you’re creative, which means you get to make up whatever title you want. Just remember to make it interesting enough that they want to ask more questions.

*“Hi, I’m Dave and I’m a Creative Generalist... I explore many different creative pursuits and then I share my experiences.”*

The pause between those two sentences can be palpable, and that’s where I watch their eyes. Either they’ll ask for more, if I see them drift, I tell them the rest. In the short time I’ve started sharing the title, I’ve had a range of responses.

“Oh, wow. I didn’t know that was a thing.”

“What type of creative projects?”

“Where can I see it?”

And my personal favorite, “How do you make money doing that?”

“Thanks, I’m glad you asked.” And then I send them directly to a post on my Substack that gives them a strong call to action (aka: pay me!)

Could you also use that title for yourself and be done with it? Sure, I lend that title out freely, but again, it’s more mindset than words, and what I believe about what I do and why I do it may be different for you. Since you’re here, I’m guessing you’re open to the process of discovery, and all it takes it some free time, a pencil and paper, and a willingness to lean into fearless representation of your creative identity.

NOTE: Go analog whenever you can. There’s something to be said about the hand/mind connection when writing things down, espeically when it comes to identifying things about yourself. I promise, pen/pencil to paper almost always results in more clarity—it’s like magic.

What’s comes next is a 5-part exercise that’s easy to get through in a sitting or two. It’s meant to get you thinking differently about how you share with others, but also help you believe deeply in what you share. If you want to be one of the first to try out the Creative Generalist Identity Roadmap, upgrade to member status today.

Subscribe now

I will also be offering the Identity Roadmap as a stand alone product shortly after it goes live to members at reasonable cost, but of course, you won’t get all the other things to come that members get.

One question before you go:

When someone asks what you do, what do you actually say — and how much of the truth does that answer leave out?

Leave a comment, share your thoughts, and talk with others.

Thanks for reading,

Dave

There I was, sitting on my sofa with my iPad in my lap, Procreate at the ready, waiting for a creative jolt to the prefrontal cortex in order to make the next great t-shirt design for my brand, Lost Mixtape. Except the ideas weren’t coming; no jolts, not even a pop of static electricity. In fact, the ideas hadn’t come in weeks. I had zero inspiration for making anything for the brand, and I was freaking me out a bit.

Sure, I have my list of “maybe some day” ideas that I turn to in situations like this. However, and I don’t know about you, but whenever I go back to that list, I’m not inspired by any of my past ideas as I was when I initially jotted them down. Sometimes I don’t even know what the hell I was thinking when I wrote it.

Perhaps it was a three-fingers-of-whisky moment that requires three more to get back to that frame of mind, but then who wants to do anything at that point?

Before we dig in, two things…

1. Save this post. You’re going to want to spend some time thinking this one over.

2. Share this with a creative friend who is struggling with creative inspiration.

Share

NOTE: This publication grows because of your shares, and if you know someone who could really use this information, send it to them. It helps them, helps me, and it’s 100% free.

So I did what anyone with a completely lack of any creative synapses popping and I asked the completely stable and not unhinged people of Reddit for ways to help stir the mush into something cool. You cannot even image the ideas I got from others, some might even have gotten me arrested (no, really), but there were a few that sounded interesting.

One technique is called mining discomfort, where you remove all digital stimulation and sit with your intrusive thoughts, writing each one down as it comes. The person who shared the idea said they do this in their studio, but I had the idea of taking it to the streets. I wanted to see what being in a busy urban environment mind lend to ideas that compliment what I’m making with Lost Mixtape.

With a pick axe and a near total lack of wifi, I ventured forth into the cringe of my dopamine bereft mind, and I cannot lie, there are some ideas I will not share because I got a little weird and dissociative.

This is everything I wrote down (that I’m willing to share):

• Street noise is distracting. The city is loud.

• My back is to the traffic. And I’m sticking out slightly in the lane. I feel vulnerable, but there’s no way for me to change positions.

• My instinct is to reach for my headphones to avoid the noise, but that’s the point.

• Caught myself checking text messages and then went down a rabbit hole. Why do these devices have such a stranglehold on us?

• The bench is hard. Needs pillows or cushions. Its tolerable and I’m just being soft.

• Almost forgot to pay for parking — expensive mistake. Parking permits have become the norm for my life.

• The amount of empty or papered-over storefronts is disturbing. Will retail ever be more affordable again?

• There’s a breeze coming from behind me, messing up my hair. I want to fix it, but I’m trying to let it sit and feel the discomfort.

• The smell of exhaust overwhelms me. Sitting outside is nice, but stinky.

• One of these discomforts is generating ideas, but I’m forcing myself to sit with them until I’ve done this work.

• People watching isn’t nearly as interesting as I thought it would be here. What did I think this would accomplish.

• Some old guy just sat down near me. It’s his right, but I’m annoyed.

• I put my headphones on just to make sure nobody talks to me.

• The old guy is bleeding from his arm. He’s coughing open-mouthed. I want to leave.

• Gas prices suck. American politics is worse. The economy is in the toilet. Human rights are dying. I feel like I should make more noise.’

The bolded entries are the ones I felt would make the most sense to turn into a t-shirt design, but the ideas are still raw, and more philosophical and contemplative than they are t-shirt meme worthy, which I believe means I need to dig deeper.

The recurring idea of the headphones has something bouncing around in my melon about putting the earpods on and shutting the world out, but I want the concept to be more implied than explicit.

The anticlimactic result is that I didn’t reach the idea I was expecting, but I did find one unexpectedly.

Did the experiment work? That’s relative, I suppose. I still walked away with a design idea, one that will actually make it to a shirt soon, so I’ll classify it as a success. Will that other unfinished idea do the same? Not sure yet. We’ll see how much whisky I have in the cupboard.

I plan on doing more of these explorations in the future, perhaps creating a series of creative explorations, putting myself through the paces and sharing the results. If you want to see more of that, consider becoming a member so you don’t miss any of them series. It’s going to be fun… or at least funny enough to laugh at my pain.

Question Time

Before I let you go, I want to ask, have you tried a creative spark igniter technique that you found helpful? Share it in the comments and we’ll all get brighter together.

Leave a comment

I came back to Substack this past December with a ramshackle plan of action, and it felt good. I had a whole strategy mapped out and things were going…hmm, not great, to be honest. All of my stats were in a slow nosedive toward obscurity, but then I said something insane on Notes with almost no proof other than my own intuition.

I’d been drifting toward this idea above for a couple of weeks, but this was the first time I said it in public, and as soon as I shared it, I realized I needed to back up my words. So I went into the lab and go to work on the plan, but then got distracted by chores and video games (I play Arc Raiders with my son, and if you enjoy it too, you know what I mean about distraction).

Jump ahead to this week and a conversation I had with my mother about her own creative journey. I was about to share the same quasi-advice with her (without any justification or real plan) on finding a thread that connects all of her creative work into one concept she can tell others.

The problem with finding that through-line is that it’s different for almost everyone depending on what type of projects or hobbies their indulging. So, back to the lab for research–this time with no video games. Here’s what I found:

↦ Craig Mod

Photographer, writer, adventurer, and bookmaker who has spent years walking thousands of kilometers through rural Japan and turning those walks into essays, photographs, and hand-made books. His entire operation runs on a membership program that funds the freely available work. No content behind paywalls, no courses, just people paying to keep a practitioner in the field doing what he does. His is an ambitious approach that takes diligence and a level of trust that only comes with time.

↦ David Perell

He’s built one of the most successful writing education businesses. Yes, he’s prolific as hell, but more importantly, often shares the sharpest point of view about why writing matters while teaching others to find theirs. His model proves that discernment, packaged well, is worth more than information alone.

↦ Roxane Gay

Novelist, essayist, cultural critic, editor, professor, podcast host, and Marvel comic book write: Her newsletter The Audacity and her New York Times opinion column reach millions of loyal readers because her point of view is the product. She built a brand around her identity, and her audience loves her for it.

↦ Austin Kleon

Poet, artist, and author; Kleon’s built a business around a free weekly newsletter, a handful of books about creativity, and a paid tier that gives subscribers a closer look at what he’s making before it becomes anything official. He’s probably the first proof-of-concept for the Creative Generalist by showing that his musing aren’t just philosophy, but also a revenue model (more on him below).

The Connection Is Right There!

Don’t read any further until you answer this question, because if you’re paying attention, I just shared the answer. Vote and then leave a comment telling me what you think the answer is.

Leave a comment

Paying for Knowledge is DEAD!

Slightly divergent thought here (big surprise, this is me we’re talking about), but A.I. has obliterated almost all traditional educational models. Name any online teacher or coach who has made tens or hundreds of thousands on selling strategy or tactics, and I’ll show you someone who is about to be out of a job IF they don’t change their business model. If you go into ChatGPT, Claude or Gemini and ask them to tell you everything Marie Forleo, Amy Porterfield, or Dan Koe has said about growing a business, you’ll get the entire playbook in less time than it took input your credit card # to pay $3,000 for their training program.

Paying for knowledge is dead in the water, and any coach who still tries to sell you on a 8-week program to teach you anything is going to find themselves in the proverbial bread line soon, because why would anyone pay for tactics and strategy that can be found through ChatGPT.

What people will pay for going forward is discernment and creativity. Maybe you’re not trying to be a coach or mentor, but that doesn’t mean people aren’t willing to learn from you and pay for your experience. It’s not just about tactics, but knowing the nuanced approach to specific scenarios because you’ve lived them all, or at least lived enough to understand how to navigate new challenges.

That statement might make some people upset, rightfully so, but allow me to clarify it. I don’t mean to stop selling your physical work. Please keep doing that; the world needs your art.

However, the approach I’m taking toward my business going forward is to share my discernable perspective; one that AI cannot generate ideas based on lived experiences because it has none—only humans can do that.

If I do this right, the byproduct will be subscribers become paid members to tap into those lived experiences and keen judgement I’ve earned through years of toil and frustration. Also, some might buy my physical products because they like what I make and they appreciate how I show up.

The Creative Generalist Through-Line

If you ever want to make the gods laugh at you, make plans. Thankfully, I’m not a religious man, so I’m going forward anyway. I fully anticipate some aspects of this to change, but this is everything I’m planning for the future, for the business and my creative life in general.

• How I’m changing not only what people get from me, but how they get it (hint: face time).

• My thoughts on how I see this playing out both immediately and in the near future.

• The philosophy and mindset behind all of it so I know my voice and message is consistent with each interaction.

I’m certain this will be valuable to many people, and if you are eager to know more, consider upgrading to member status.

Subscribe now

In Case You Missed It:

Read more

Dear Mom,

Buckle up, because I’m about to expose some dirty laundry. Before I do, know that I love you and I want the best for you. That said, we need to talk about the two elephants you have crammed into your art studio in the desert.

1. You’re entirely too hard on yourself and your work, but guess what. You’re not alone. So many people who make things second-guess their work often, including me. It’s a stigma that’s hard to avoid and harder to kick. Instead, you need to embrace it, make it your friend, and turn it into an asset.

2. You have a tendency to get unfocused. You’ve said casually to everyone how you have undiagnosed ADHD. You may be right, and it is likely a contributor to you not getting what you want from your work, and perhaps it’s time to do something about it.

For what it’s worth, I am the same on both counts (I come by it honestly), but I learned how to recognize the behaviors in the moment, and I’m doing the work to turn these defects into assets.

Turn Flaws Into Ammunition

Recently you shared an emotional confession that gave me pause. Not only did it hurt my heart, but it felt a little too real. At the same time, it was also the best thing you’ve written in a long time (mostly because you don’t write enough, but we’ll get to that). Every line came from the deep well inside you and I’m sure readers felt your anguish, but you were more real than you’ve ever been. What you may not understand yet is these types of admissions are a good way to find the people who resonate with you.

So, yeah, all of what you’re feeling kinds sucks, but good job exposing yourself! Those moments where you talk about overworking your art, leaving it behind, and not feeling good about coming back to it; those are all feelings worth exploring, and potentially sharing. The more comfortable you get with sharing them, the more you’ll learn to use them fuel for your creative work, whether that’s more stories, or the art itself.

Before we dig in deeper, two things…

1. Save this post. You’re going to want to spend some time thinking this one over.

2. Share this with someone who is [insert thing] but is [insert fear].

Share

NOTE: This publication grows because of your shares, and if you know someone who could really use this information, send it to them. It helps them, helps me, and it’s 100% free.

Foster a Ritual of Doing

The one lesson I’ve learned the hard way is that consistency is the most important trait to foster. You know this about my creative projects, but I’ve bailed out on them more times than a deadbeat dad with multiple ex-wives. Just as I’ve learned how to be a good father to your grandson, I’ve learned that when I’m consistent and leaning into the things I want to do (instead of what the world is telling me), not only do I make my best work, I enjoy the process, and the world pays more attention.

To make this work, you need to get a handle on one very important truth: Consistency must be scheduled. That means making time for yourself, putting it on the calendar, and do NOT deviate except in emergencies. Despite your semi-retired life, you have distractions all around.

What helps me is turning off the outside world; not just the phone, but the people too. I literally put my phone too far away for me to reach for, and when I feel myself wanting to reach for it, I know I’m letting my intrusive, distracted thoughts win over. It give myself a gentle kick in the pants and get back to work.

You don’t have to commit a lot of time; the world still exists and needs attention. Instead, consider the time of day where you think you do your best work and block that off every day for making—no exceptions, whether it’s art, writing, or some other creative indulgence.

IMPORTANT: If you decide on any day that you don’t want to make during your schedule, make sure that you get back to it the next day or soon after. Do not allow anyone or anything become the exception, or you’ll lose your momentum by busy work.

Time is Short — Share Everything

Not to be too morbid, but Death comes for us all, and let’s be honest; their long, spiny fingers are scratching at your door. (Relax, she knows I’m teasing).

The reality is that in a hundred years, none of us will be remembered… unless we’ve done the work to put our stories out into the world, some of which will continue to keep us in the hearts and minds of people that were affected by our stories and lessons. There are parts of yourself that your grandson will never understand because he’s never had a chance to know the stories you’ve hesitated to share.

If you’re like most, when I say share everything, it’s can be an overwhelming thought. There are some things that feel too raw, deep, or potentially controversial to share with the world. Ok, you don’t have to share your time spent on Epstein Island, but aside from that, open the flood gates (If the FBI sees this, I’m kidding… not that you’d do anything about it for at least another two years). Take it slow at first, and ease in with what you’re comfortable with now, and over time, people will tell you what parts they enjoy and give you encouragement to go deeper.

Maybe you don’t know what to share just yet, everything feels divergent, unimportant, and detached from the actual art, but this is much bigger than what’s on the canvas. This is the strategy that helped me.

1. Imagine the world you want to create

When I came back to Substack earlier this year, I did so with trepidation because I wasn’t sure what my contribution would be to this space. I didn’t know if people wanted to even hear from me anymore, let alone expect them to pay attention, but I started putting work out anyway. The more I shared, the better I understood what people enjoyed hearing from me, and it was aligned with my interests.

I made an active choice to create a safe space for people who enjoy doing many creative things but often second-guess themselves because society wants us to focus on one thing in order to understand us better.

I chose to make my story about the overarching concept of creative generalism so I can share all the things I create, and the byproduct is a legion of other multi-passionate individuals who are embracing the status as their own. Together, we’re creating a new identity for the world to see.

You have your own vision for what you want the world to know about you—lean into it. If it’s a muddy concept right now, and you’re not sure exactly what it looks like; write about it. The more I write about things, the clearer I get.

2. Journal ALL of your ideas

You know how you have 17 different pairs of reading glasses stashed around various parts of your home because you always misplace them and you buy more?

Do that same thing, but with pocket journals!

Put pocket journals in all the places you dwell for longer than three minutes, and DON’T MOVE THEM. Anyway you have an idea for a story idea, or something worth sharing on social media, write it down in one of the notebooks. Do this first, and if a particular idea needs immediate attention, take it to your computer or your phone and put the bones into a draft to build on later.

There are NO bad ideas. Everything is a story, literally everything. Sharing all the pieces you love is a story, but so is talking about all the pieces you gave up on. Writing about your materials is a story, and so is talking about the things that keep you from making. Writing about the various notebooks around your house because you can never remember all the good ideas you have is a story.

Long form articles, short form Notes, photo and video ideas galore; when you’re out of ideas, run the gauntlet of randomly placed Field Notes and pull an idea to share with your audience. We can discuss frequency later, but I would aim for at least posting one or two notes a day—you can skip weekends unless otherwise compelled.

3. Tell everyone you meet

You are way better at talking to strangers than I have ever been. I have trust issues, but you’re as gregarious as anyone I’ve ever known. When people ask what you do, go back to #1 above and read them your one-line bio about the world you’re trying to create.

Make everyone know exactly what you want them to know about you, and then tell them exactly where they can go to see more of you. Maybe it’s your substack, or it’s your art website, but make sure they know.

Also, take that same message and put it on every platform where you exist. Put it in the bio of your social media accounts, your website about page, and into every journal you have floating around in case you absentmindedly put it into your purse only to drop it at the local Trader Joes.

This takes time. It won’t make you an overnight success, but if you stay consistent, post regularly, and be involved in other people’s journeys by reading and commenting on their posts, you’ll find growth.

I know that you would prefer to be making art than posting stuff online, but if you look at this as part of the process, I think you’ll learn to appreciate it more once more people start showing up to thank you for sharing and giving them hope for themselves. I know this can be true because it’s happened to me many times.

All of this can eventually lead to notoriety while also getting paid for the work, and there are multiple opportunities for you specifically, which is a conversation for another time.

I’ll see you this weekend.

In Case You Missed It:

You’ve waffled, pivoted, quit, and started something different. Your audience has whiplash and you don’t know if you can pull yourself from the brink. Dwelling on what your audience might think is embarrassing at best, and a total existential dread meltdown at worst.

People will label you, put you in a box, and talk about you loudly with their internal monologue (maybe their external one too, depending on how dramatic they feel).

You will lose followers over this, but it’s going to be alright.

Unfortunately, there is no cure for creative pivotitus (an impulsive desire to drain your savings account on art supplies and craft materials to chase another project you may not finish). It’s biological. You can no more get rid of it than you can the beating heart in your chest, but there are salves for pivotitus, which all start in your head.

1. Embrace the shifts in creative focus as all part of the plan and integrate a culture of change into the system.

2. Share the harrowing tales about the superhero that you want everyone to admire.

3. Build that narrative into a hero arc that inspires others to become your advocate and follow your example.

Why a superhero? Because everyone knows Spider-Man, but almost nobody really knows the 437th person they followed on Instagram no matter how good their work is.

Before we dig in, two things…

1. Save this post. You’re going to want to spend some time thinking this one over.

2. Share this with someone who is [insert thing] but is [insert fear].

Share

The Creative Generalist becomes a more powerful hero to others through your shares, and if you know someone who could really use this information, send it to them. It helps them, helps me, and it’s 100% free.

Oh, and your recommendations can earn you free stuff, just saying.

“With great power comes great responsibility.”

No, I’m not above shilling lines from popular movies to get my point across, but Uncle Ben’s advice is timely even if you didn’t get bitten by a radioactive spider.

The thing is, though, the responsibility you have is to yourself.

You’ve been told, by family, friends, and society, to pick a lane and stick with it, but you have so many lanes to choose from — which one is the right one? If I want to spend three months working on one project, but it inspires me to try a different type of project because I believe it will elevate my work, am I just supposed to ignore that intuition? That’s crazy talk for a creative.

Instead, choose to make your own lane, one that allows you to indulge all those wild impulses, and be okay with it. Your title isn’t a designer, or artist, or illustrator, or crafter, or maker of things. Your title is Creative Director of your own damn life, and nobody gets to tell you what to make or when to make it.

However, without some way to define you, those same people will put you in a box that makes them comfortable…

That’s why you need a super suit.

Why do heroes wear uniforms? So we can see them coming.

If you see a person flying above the city on webs, dangling from buildings and train trestles, wearing a red and blue suit, you know immediately that the good guy has arrived.

I’m not saying you should invest in several yards of brightly colored lycra, but you can adorn a uniform that lets others know that the multi-passionate creative has entered the room — and it starts with an umbrella. I don’t mean one to protect you from the elements, but an overarching concept that you share with others to give them a frame of reference for what it means to be someone who does more than one thing.

If you create a mythology around the things you do, one that gives the normies a point of reference to understand all of it, they can become invested in that mythology. That umbrella concept becomes something tangible their singular-focused minds can grasp. You’re giving them an identity they can get behind.

As an example, when people ask me what I do now, I tell them I’m a Creative Generalist. Not only does this give me the freedom to indulge all my impulses, but it also opens the door for me to explain it to them. They don’t know what a Creative Generalist is yet (like the people of Queens, NYC didn’t know what a Spider-Man was before he saved them from a burning building), but when I say it, they are instantly curious, because it doesn’t sound like any job they’ve ever heard before, and they can’t ignore wanting to know what it means.

When I first shared this idea on Substack, many people jumped in with alternative titles: multi-passionate, multi-hyphenate, multipotentialite — all of these work, but they are more obscure, and don’t reference the core of what I do. In that obscurity, they don’t entice others to want to know more.

When I tell others I’m a Creative Generalist, they immediately understand what creative means, and that’s all they need. That word opens the door because everybody loves and trusts creativity — it’s the emblem on the chest of the super suit.

In Case You Missed It:

Inspiring a societal paradigm shift

That’s word salad which I just made up to mean helping people reach an aha moment and fully grasp how it’s cool AF to indulge ALL the creative ideas.

When I tell people I’m a Creative Generalist, and explain what that means, I want to see the light bulb go on over their head. That epiphany is magic and it’s how to turn casual awareness into devotion. The more I do it, the brighter the collective light gets, outshining any limiting beliefs on the topic.

…But much money do you make from that?

It's not about the money, but how many creative ideas can I indulge — that determines success in my eyes. Yeah, money is great. I love money, but whenever I dictate my creativity around money, I'm never happy with the results. However, that idea confounds normies so much, they immediately discount us for saying it publicly. If we are not contributing to the tax base as much as them, perhaps we are useless in their eyes, but what if they better understood our values and the contribution we make to the world through our creative output?

Okay, but how?

1. Repetition

2. Examples

3. Connection

The more often we tell people what we believe and how we operate, the more true it becomes, both in their minds and our own. I’ve told exactly two normies that I’m a Creative Generalist. The first time I did it with a small amount of reservation. The second time was a little less reserved, but each time I got a seemingly positive response. So now I’m going to tell everyone I meet if they ask, because the proof of concept works. I will share my unwavering commitment to the identity with confidence because I want the normies to understand that this is a real thing.

Make all the things and share all the things. The more often I show the different projects I’m working on as all part of my core identity, the more likely they are to understand that it’s perfectly normal… because it IS normal to want to indulge our creative impulses. Keep showing up with examples and talking about them like it’s a foregone conclusion, and they will fall in line.

While you’re talking about your various projects, remind them that their own impulsive ideas are normal. Tell them how it’s okay to want to start a crazy project even if they have zero experience, because creative expression is one of the most joyous experiences a human can have. Why would we keep that to ourselves? If we can get through to them that creative generalism is normal for humans, they may find themselves in it.

Then they go down the multi-passionate rabbit hole like a Jack Russell Terrier on Adderall. You’ve blown their mind into a million popped synapses, imagining all the possible opportunities to make things. If the law of reciprocity is real (it is), they’ll recommend you to all of their equally-minded friends.

You give big — they give back.

The world puts you in a box the moment you show up with more than one idea. The difference between you and everyone else is that you know the box is there and you’ve refused to get in it.

That refusal is the super suit. The stories you tell, the projects you share, the pivots you own without apology — those are the webs you’re slinging between high-rises filled with corporate normies looking on with awe. Somewhere in your hero universe is another Creative Generalist who’s spent years thinking they were broken, waiting for someone to name the thing they are.

This is where you name it for them.

Open Mouth, Insert Foot

Last week, I wrote an article; a declaration, really, about how I will no longer run away from my creative wanderlust. I make what I make and I’m ok if people don’t get it.

In that article, I spoke of a person in my local circle who doesn’t fully grasp the multitudes I contain, to a point where they have a tendency to label me one way because it’s all they know how to do when confronted with understanding those multitudes.

It’s not their fault. It’s mine, because I have done a terrible job of wearing the right clothes for the job. People relate to me based on what I share online, and if I am not consistent with that message, or the concept is muddy, then their brain does the best it can to fill in the gaps by putting me in a box that makes sense to them.

Before we dig in, two things…

1. Save this post. You’re going to want to spend some time thinking this one over.

2. Share this with someone who is [insert thing] but is [insert fear].

Share

NOTE: This publication grows because of your shares, and if you know someone who could really use this information, send it to them. It helps them, helps me, and it’s 100% free.

I’m a 10+ on the Creative Impulse Scale

Because the Universe has a sick sense of humor, that person joined Substack the next day, and I don’t know if they subscribed to me or not, but they might have read what I posted. I never even considered that they may be a subscriber, but that’s what I get for being creatively attractive.

Will they be mad? Will they scorn me and talk trash at group meet ups? Will I become the social pariah, have to change my name, and leave the community?

Was what I said offensive? No, in fact what I shared was more about my own insecurities around shining like the sparkly diamond I am. It’s not their fault they don’t know how to embrace the multi-passionate side of me; it’s mine!. I didn’t let them know everything about me. I didn’t make my declaration to them soon enough, not giving them a chance to know me before they put me in a box.

But I digress, because I have learned some lessons about sharing the raw side of me; things that might have helped me get out of that little jam had I taken my own advice, but also good tactics for telling great stories that can help you look like the shiny diamond you are.

😛 Maybe, Hold Your Tongue

I broke a cardinal rule of telling personal stories; either make sure the people you’re talking about aren’t paying attention, or cowboy up and tell them to their face so they know it’s coming. That’s Rule #1, and it’s a big one because the best result is they get a little offended.

The worst possible outcome is that they name you in a libel lawsuit and take whatever meager pittance you have in your coffers.

🖍️ Embellish with Grace

You’re not going to remember all the details. It’s ok to fill in the details the best you can especially if the details make the story better, but don’t change the context of the story or your role in it.

Add all the color you want, but don’t make up things that didn’t happen. Someone you know may have been there, and if they are a good friend, they will call you on your bullshit, or they’ll look at you funny for the rest of your life because they don’t ever know if you’re telling the truth with your stories.

🥩 Good Stories Have Stakes

Ok, this one is definitely spoken often, but not often enough. If you tell a story with no tension, there’s no pay off and people will come for you with pitchforks and torches.

Maybe pitchforks are a little dramatic, but it gave you some tension, didn’t it? See how easy that was?

Tension doesn’t have to be difficult or life changing. I created tension at the beginning of this piece by sharing that the person I was writing about might actually see what I wrote even though I didn’t intend them to see it. What happens when I see them next?

By asking that question, you’re at least marginally invested because I shared the drama and you want to know what comes of it. That’s stakes.

🎭 Humor Cures

Years ago, a local radio DJ on a morning zoo show talked about how he was able to get lots of dates (and sex) with women out of his league. His straight-to-the-matter response when asked how he did it was, “If you can make them laugh, they’ll make you breakfast.”

Perhaps a crass hot take, but few things cure what ails your mental state like a good laugh. Find the humor wherever you can because even a subtle chuckle over a single statement in a longer monologue can change the temper of your harshest critics.

If you don’t know what other people find funny, then just make yourself laugh. I laugh at my own jokes all the time, whether someone gets them or not. Not everyone gets my humor, but I’m not writing for the ones that don’t. I’m writing the jokes for the weirdos like me.

Your unique stories are the fastest way to gain the trust and solidarity of readers who don’t know much about you. Personal stories are the fastest way to the heartstrings of the unconverted, and no matter how many times I try to get away from it, the truth comes at my head like a 9 lb. hammer, and I’m tired of the concussions.

In a weird twist, the story I mention at the beginning has one of my lowest open rates lately, but the Note I posted that truncated the original concept is one of my most popular in more than a year.

The disparity of attention between the article and the Note tells me three things:

1. My article headline could have been better

2. I’ve tapped into something interesting here

3. Do not sleep on Substack Notes!

I’m not trying to become a Substack growth coach, but there’s something to be said about Notes and how most of my new attention is coming from that part of the platform.

As I write this, I’ve added over 50 new subscribers, and that’s after a steady decline over the past several months.

I’m spending significantly more time on Notes than any other social platform now because it’s filled with smart, creative people sharing smart, creative things, and I’ve found so many people I resonate with there.

The hope is that others find me the same. And of course, all my stories go there. Here’s some recent stories you might have missed.

I had this idea for a micro-series of shirt designs all revolving around classic record shops that just by looking at them would stir emotions in the people who saw them. Honest Jon’s, Hyde Park, Bleecker Bob’s, Amoeba Records in Berkeley, and Hollywood Tower Records; if you ever had the luck of stepping foot in any of them, you know how they look, smell, and sound. Each shop evokes a vibe that would be hard to mistake, but could I capture that in an image without infringing upon any intellectual property?

Short answer: No.

Tower Records was my most favorite record shop, and though I rarely got to visit the one in Hollywood, I can still feel what it’s like to walk in the door, smell the mustiness of the ceiling tiles tinted by smog and mildew, and the squeak of my shoes on the linoleum tiled floor. The walls were covered with handcrafted, 3-dimensional, foam versions of popular albums that stood floor to ceiling, and of course, there were rows upon rows of albums and CDs that presented an orgy of choice.

The music was often of popular music from the day, but occasionally you’d hear classics, or something from a local band you didn’t know about until you saw the Now Playing station at the register.

Before I sunk myself into any of the music, I would hit the magazine stand with it’s unmatched collection of mag, comics, and zines that dwarfed even the big-box bookstores. It was a magazine designers heaven, and it’s possibly I miss that more than the music itself.

I chose to start my illustrated tributes with Tower Records, copying the linear angles of the building, adding a bit of extreme perspective to add depth, but the more I worked on it, the less I felt like people would get the reference. This idea wasn’t working.

This was a rough attempt, and though not finished and plenty of details to be added to potentially resemble the original shop, I just knew it wasn’t going to work. Maybe someone more talented than me could make it happen, but I decided to go a different direction, and though completely different, I’m happy with the result, which also leaves the door open for more opportunity

This is what’s next…

• The inspiration behind the shift in the design

• The illustration process and why it took longer than expected

• How I’m using the design in my latest micro-collection, and a sneak peek at what’s coming.

• How I plan to carry this concept over to new work

Read more

While enjoying some well-deserved, pricey lattes at a coffee shop and vigorously chatting through WhatsApp with a friend overseas, I talked about what I felt was my best era, and surprise; this ain’t it.

The internal battle in my head says something to me like, “What are you talking about, Dave? You’re always going on about how things are great, and you’re a superstar!”

That might be true (tongue firmly planted in my cheek), but there was a stretch from 2013 to 2016 where I was absolutely on fire regarding growth, creativity, and influence.

Then, I took thirteen gallons of kerosene to my achievements and ran off in a different direction because my artistic inspiration was more important at the time. 🙄

Why I turned my back on all the success I had achieved is still a mystery to me and others, and had I stuck it out, I assume I would have reached that superstardom much sooner.

Despite all the missteps and mishaps, this current stage is still the second-best era of my online life, with the potential to rocket my way past my previous experiences. I’ll be on Mars before Elon, and these are the lessons I learned about rebuilding my online presence. The tools have changed a little, and so have the rules, but this is what I’m doing differently.

Record everything and share it online.

Whether you prefer writing, video, or audio, document everything and share it online. I don’t mean every aspect of your life needs to be shared, but the inspired moments you have about your work, inspiration, business, and creativity all have value that you and others can benefit from.

Write a blog, start a YouTube channel, or kick off a podcast where you talk about the things that make you tick. All of these things carry weight and add to the lexicon of your online life. Maybe that’s scary to some, but if your goal is to grow a substantial presence online, this is how it starts.

Post everything to a blog.

If you have a blog on your website, it’s a good idea to put all those things above into your blog. Although SEO isn’t the marketing machine it used to be, having the archive for people to view lends credence to your time and experience. People seen doing the work are typically considered as authorities, whether they believe it or not.

Also, do not delete anything ever (unless it’s evidence of you being associated with P-Diddy). My shortsighted belief that nobody would ever read or watch my old posts is a false flag. If I stuck to my goals and purpose, I would have a catalog rivaling Pat Flynn and Mark Manson.

**Sidebar:** Keep copies on external hard drives and double-check their health regularly. I’ve lost multiple book manuscripts because I let a hard drive fail with no other backup.

Maintain a healthy email list.

This might be my biggest regret and why I’m so intense about it here because your email list is by far the most powerful tool you have in your kit to stay relevant and connected to your audience.

Keep the list healthy by reaching out with messages at least once a month, and find elegant ways to reengage or remove cold subscribers (people who don’t open your emails) regularly.

A healthy list is powerful and filled with people who have chosen to stick with you. Make sure you do the same for them.

Be active in communities

In 2013, I joined an online training that maintained a vibrant Facebook group (and several unsanctioned sub-groups). The training was a valuable investment, but the community became the most vital aspect of that investment. I learned more from the discussions and experiences of others than I did from the training, and I also made life-long friends I still talk to regularly today.

Also, because I ran a blog, podcast, and YouTube channel, the community was a constant source of content ideas and inspiration. Guests were hoping for any attention they could get.

The landscape of communities has changed a lot, but if you can find one or two communities built for your interests, they can become a solid replacement for what many falsely credit as community…

Stop relying on social media

When I let everything go, I did so because of the false promise of what social media could do for me. Yes, I built up some decent followings on different social media channels, but over time, all those channels grew more challenging to develop and maintain.

Now, engagement is down across the board from small accounts to prominent influencers, and let’s be honest; there’s nothing social about social media anymore. Conversations and collaborations don’t happen like they did, and most of our efforts to maintain a dialogue for more than a few seconds are impossible as people have moved on to other posts to interact with.

Most importantly, you don’t have access to reaching out to your entire audience on social media. There are connections to be made, but unless you have a solid strategy of pulling those people off your social media platforms and onto your email list, you will eventually lose touch with most of them.

Stay the course

Burnout happens. In 2016, I was tired and needed a break, but instead of taking some time off to rejuvenate, I bailed on everything. Now, I schedule breaks during the year to spend time with my family and give myself space to recharge, and because I can plan things I share online, people often don’t know when I’m on a break.

I can’t deny that in 2016, I needed to stretch myself and indulge my creativity and artistic expression. Now, when I desire to make art, I embrace it, but I don’t let it distract me from my goals. Instead, I use that energy to refill my creative tanks and push through to sharing more stories to inform and inspire others.

Recently, I shared a Reel talking about how Blake of Today is one of my favorite storytellers on Instagram, but despite his talent, he’s missing a huge opportunity because he has nothing to sell me. The most obvious choice would be a book I would gladly buy if he published one. If he had a small merch line, I’d probably buy a shirt, but alas, there is none.

When I shared that video, a few people told me they had gone down the rabbit hole of Blake’s content, acknowledging how good he is at his craft and admonishing me for making them lose thirty minutes of their lives deep-diving into Blake’s content.

It’s not high-production value, and most of his visuals are basic shots of him doing things around the house. The combination of the visual and warm tones of his voice-over pulls you in and keeps you captivated for long periods.

That’s what good storytelling does.

Quick poll, and tell the truth; how many different creative projects are you juggling right now?

Leave a comment

Currently, I have two creative projects with another one bouncing around the back of my head looking for an exit. However, there have been times where I’ve had several going at the same, many of which were completely different than others.

I’m an artist, writer, graphic designer, and at odd times, a crafter. I work with paint and canvas, paper and glue, and typography and grids. I’ve made paintings, collage, zines, books, t-shirts, mugs, stickers, hand-carved stamps, custom notebooks, and a mountain of client projects ranging from logos and branding to video montages and websites.

And I could start doing any of those things again in an instant (except the client work — YUCK!). In fact, the hardest part about being a Creative Generalist (I’m coining the phrase; you heard it here first) is only sticking to a few projects at once.

If you could see inside my brain, you’d know it’s no small feat to stick to one or two core projects for anything longer than a Netflix series that was cancelled after a single season.

To Them, I am an Artist

My teenage son is an athlete, and if you have children who do school or club sports or activities, then you’ve likely established casual friendships with at least a few other parents in the group.

There’s another dad from my son’s team who I’ve gotten to know reasonably well to where I actually allow him to call me on the phone (I mean, anyone can call, but the chances of me picking up depends on how much I like you… and I really gotta like you).

Nice guy, always cordial and friendly; totally easy to get along with, but always refers to me as the artist. He knows I am also a designer, and he knows I’ve written multiple newsletters, books and other things, but because he cannot bear the weight of trying to understand all of that, he titles me an artist.

He’s not wrong, but at the same time, he’s so totally wrong. It’s to the point now that I almost dislike hearing it because it diminishes everything I know about myself to be true.

Some refer to this this disposition as being multi-passionate, which is a cute, fluffy term, and in the minds of the people hearing it, reduces us down to our impulsive emotions. Although my intent to try different projects is often based on impulse, emotion is rarely at the crux of it. I move into new project based more on curiosity than passion.

I want to learn from one project so that I can take that knowledge into the next, and do this into infinity. “What happens if…” is the most common thought I have in my creative pursuits, but normies in their colorless world see this and it breaks their brain. I regularly defy their notions of who I am and what I do.

I am a Creative Generalist and I will not apologize or make exceptions for it any longer.

I used to call myself a DowhateverthefuckIwantist, which is still true, but aside from the crassness, it was also too much of a mouthful. I still might put it on a shirt, though.

The Creative Generalist Checklist

I made a decision this week to stop hiding behind the mask of a single project. Lost Mixtape is still very much part of the picture, and will remain that way. I am committed and focused on that project, but if I want to talk about other project ideas that come to mind, I’m going to do that.

I know that not all creative people are gifted with the same creative generalism, and if you happen to be one of those with only one or two creative pursuits, we are still kin. At the same time though, maybe this will give you the confidence and courage to embrace those random projects that have been rattling around in your prefrontal cortex (or maybe it’s the cerebellum — I don’t know, I’m not a brain surgeon… yet).

If you believe you are a generalist but you’re unsure about the designation, let me share some names to help you understand that you’re in good company

• Leonardo da Vinci — painter, sculptor, architect, engineer, anatomist, inventor. The original.

• Benjamin Franklin — writer, inventor, politician, diplomat, scientist. Founding Father as side project.

• David Bowie — musician, visual artist, actor, fashion provocateur, art collector. Reinvention as a creative system.

• Frida Kahlo — painter, writer, fashion icon, political activist, cultural philosopher, all before she hit her 40s.

• Janelle Monáe — musician, actress, producer, visual artist, activist, author.

• Virgil Abloh — Trained as an architect, became the artistic director of Louis Vuitton menswear, founded Off-White, DJed internationally, collaborated with IKEA and other brands.

• Aaron Draplin — designer, author, storyteller, founder of Field Notes notebooks, which you probably have many.

• Donald Glover — Actor, writer, director, musician (Childish Gambino), producer, comedian. Created Atlanta — one of the most critically lauded shows in recent memory

• Amanda Palmer — musician, writer, performance artist, community builder. Wrote the book — literally — on the artist/audience direct relationship.

• Pharrell Williams — Producer, musician, visual artist, fashion designer, filmmaker, and current creative director of Louis Vuitton menswear.

In other words, it’s cool to not just dabble, but embrace the dabbling and kick ass at it in public. If you’re somehow not sure if you belong in the club, ask yourself about these defining characteristics.

R E A D T H I S N E X T:

You might be a Creative Generalist if…

✅ You’ve started more projects than you’ve finished, and you’re weirdly proud of both numbers

✅ You can’t answer “what do you do?” without using the word “also”

✅ Your title has never fit on a business card without switching to a condensed font

✅ Your browser has seventeen tabs open and they’re all research for different things you’re building simultaneously

✅ You’ve been told to “pick a lane” by someone whose lane bores you to tears

✅ Every hobby eventually becomes a business idea whether you want it to or not

✅ You’ve introduced yourself differently at every networking event you’ve ever attended

✅ “I got bored” has ended more chapters of your life than failure ever has

✅ Your résumé looks like three different people applied for the same job

✅ You don’t have a five year plan, you have five one-year plans running concurrently

✅ Learning a new skill scratches the same itch other people get from finishing things

✅ The most dangerous phrase anyone can say to you is “have you ever thought about…”

✅ You’re not scattered. You’re just operating on a radio signal most people can’t pick up.

That’s a largely unscientific list, but let’s just say that if you said yes to more than two, you probably are a Creative Generalist — welcome to the club. We meet every Monday; please bring snacks.

Some Things I Found

• Maybe like you, has been around long enough to see the coming-up of social media and it turning into the attention juggernaut it is now, and she’s rebelling against it with 3 ways to get your creativity back from the algorithm.

• The 7 Most Important (And Counter-Intuitive) Things I Know About Building a Meaningful Life by is a thoughtful and personal take on how to find purpose in a life where it often may feel elusive.

• I’m not sure if you’ll consider ’s article, I turned a mail club into my full-time job a success story, a cautionary tale, or both, but her journey to create a physical mail club with her poetry is a story fraught with both peril and inspiration.

I have a friend who sells handmade goods on both Etsy and Amazon. Whenever we chat, she tells me how frustrated she is because one platform or the other has changed the rules on her again; a new fee assessed, a new rule implemented, a new feature stripped away — slow death by a thousand cuts.

No matter how many times I’ve tried to convince her that she deserves to own her shop outright, she continues her dedication to these platforms that see her as nothing more than a tiny data point in their shareholder report.

She was forced to change the image aspect ratio and resolution on her entire catalog of products (hundreds of listings because Amazon changed their mind on what works for their needs.

She was forced into mandatory off-site advertising to the tune of 15% of her annual revenue by Etsy because sellers weren’t buying in, but Etsy shareholders wanted to see more profit.

• Does she get access to all of her data?

• Does she get the email addresses of her customers so she can continue the relationship?

• Is she shielded from thievery by overseas sellers who steal her designs and replicate her shop using AI?

• Does she have the security of knowing that her store cannot be threatened by malicious competitors reporting her shop to the gunshy corporate overlords ready to ban anyone who threatens their legal status?

Those are rhetorical questions because you know the answers.

Etsy, Amazon, or any other marketplaces do not have her best interests at heart, yet when I suggest she start a Shopify store to build something on her terms, she shrugs it off because her perception of the sunk costs in these platforms outweigh the potential. Too many SKUs to manage, too many potential customers to lose, and Shopify is too expensive.

Is it though?

Confession Time

Two facts about my current situation with Shopify* and Lost Mixtape.

1. I’ve made precisely $348 dollars in gross sales since I opened in November.

2. Because I’m not making sales yet (more on that in a moment), everything I do behind the scenes is filled with second-guessing and self-doubt.

Neither of those things will stop me from switching away from Shopify. I’ve done it before; went looking for greener pastures, but, this valley is the richest around, even if I’m still waiting for the Spring melt.

The money I spend on my Shopify fees right now are the investment I make until I build out my promotional efforts. I’ve shared before that I’m not satisfied with my product catalog yet, and part of that was because I wasn’t comfortable with the items I was making. That’s shifting right now and soon I’ll have enough items in the shop to feel good about promoting it.

– RELATED READING –

I know others who have bailed on Shopify because it was too expensive, too difficult to manage, and not bringing in the sales. Let’s talk about all of those.

↦ No Sales

You are correct, Shopify will not help you with sales at all. Every dollar earned is done through your own efforts. That means advertising, promotion, social media engagement, etc. It’s work, but that’s business. Only those who believe in miracles, magic, and the manipulative marketing of corporate marketplaces believe differently.

Your time, energy, and money will dwindle at first. You may have to sit in the hole for a bit while you build up the brand, which is exactly what any brick-n-mortar business does at first in order to eventually get you as a customer. This is the job and believing any different is a fairy tale.

↦ Difficult Technology

There is a learning curve, and Shopify is so robust, it can be overwhelming, but if you find yourself hyperventilating in the dashboard, let me grab you a paper bag and some reassurance. If you’ve used any selling platform ever, the basics of Shopify are the same.

The interface may be different, but the simplicity of connecting your bank account, adding a product, add shipping options and then turning on the OPEN sign is not that different from any other platform you’ve seen.

NOTE: I will share my thoughts on best practices within the Shopify dashboard in future updates, but there are so many great tutorial videos on YouTube, it’s impossible to remain uninformed on the topic.

↦ Too Expensive

In a word, STOP! You can test Shopify store for free for two weeks,* and then the next three months for $1 a month. There’s absolutely no reason you couldn’t have several items for sale and promoting them to potential customers in that period.

After the trial period, the monthly fee is $29 (basic tier) plus less-than 3% processing fees. If the margin on your product is $10, can you sell three or more items per month to cover those costs?

Whether you sell several or dozens of products each month, your profit margin stays consistent and you’re not subjected to any random fees or advertising you have no control over.

However, if we compare to Etsy; they have their initial .20 cent listing fee, then each sale comes with a 6.5% transaction fee + a 3%+ processing fee. Also add on the 15% offline ads fee. That $10 profit just fell to $7. Sell more than ten items on Etsy at that margin and you’ve lost more than what Shopify costs.

But really, the point isn’t whether Shopify is inexpensive or not, but that the objections were NEVER about money. They were about fear.

• Fear of not knowing what comes next because you somehow believe that any of us know that.

• Fear of unknown technology because you’ve convinced yourself you cannot learn new things

• Fear of time and energy needed to get started because comfort is better than freedom

• Fear of not knowing how to grow without corporate interference

• Fear of being responsible for your own well-being

My friend above; I love her like a sister, but sometimes I feel she doesn’t want the responsibility of what happens next. Despite being well educated and incredibly enterprising, she relies entirely on the promotional efforts of the marketplaces. Switching to Shopify will put all that on her and I don’t think she wants it. I stopped trying to convert her, but I remain hopeful she’s switch it up someday.

You, on the other hand; you can do this, and I’m here to add guard rails. This space is for stories, questions, and lifting each other up.

PRO TIP: Don’t close your shop! If you’re on Etsy and considering switching to Shopify, use the testing period to try it out. Carry over your items and start sharing the new link with your audience, but keep the Etsy operating in the background to keep you floating as long as it takes.

Another Confession

Open up the booth, Padre. I’ve got my rosary and I’m spilling my guts today. It’s been seven days since my last confession.

I’ve been holding back on the promotional efforts of Lost Mixtape because I plan on running ads on Meta and Pinterest, and yet, I’m scared to lose money doing it.

I’m no different than you, but I’m changing my mindset around that, looking at this as a learning experiment that will help me grow. Again, sometimes we have to spend money and sit in the hole for a bit before the profit line starts moving up and to the right.

Which brings me back to you. Everything I do in my process, and I believe will be important for others, gets shared here. If I fail at advertising, you’ll know when it happens and why. I’m not the guy to sugar coat my experiences, and if you want to learn from my tough lessons, stick around.

So what do you say?

Tell me where you’re at in your platform journey and what’s the thing standing between you and making the move to more fre? How can I help make those fears a little less intimidating for you?

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* I’m a Shopify partner, have been for years, and any links to them are affiliate links. I only share affiliate links to businesses I’ve used and trust. By using them, you’re supporting my work here.

However, if you’re building a product based business (say for instance, a clothing brand with a certain aesthetic and niche), the feed can crush souls if faced with the reality of a brand that is similar in aesthetic and significantly more popular.

I stumbled across a UK brand I didn’t know about until last week, and when I saw what they were making, I nearly threw my computer in the Thames. Yes, I would endure the TSA, fly to England, stand on the Tower Bridge and toss the Macbook into the murky waters, giving it the ol’ double-deuce all the way down.

This stings more than it should because knowing what’s cool is way easier than the doing cool things. This brand is doing the cool work and while I’m struggling with refinement. The gap between taste and execution is the Snake River Gorge filled with self-doubt.

For about 43 seconds, I had this nagging anxiety about working in a similar niche, using a somewhere similar style, and thinking that I was a copy-cat; a bandwagoner. A coattail rider looking to snatch a piece of their excellence for myself.

Then I remembered that comparison is a bullshit reason to quit and I ain’t about that anymore. I’m not making the same type of work, but if anyone tries to make that association, they get the stink-eye, because I’ve got receipts in the form of wildly scribbled journal notes of my psychosis-turned-inspiration.

Up All Night to Get Lucky

I had this idea for showcasing loose interpretations of the Daft Punk helmets with the phrase “Only Robots I Trust.” I like the idea, but because my sketch was so bad, I didn’t have enough faith in myself to execute it well enough to put on a shirt.

Oddly enough, I was inspired to make this design after I wrote this post about Deus Customs and its influence on me:

I talk a good game sometimes, but I struggle to follow my own voice. I gave up on the Daft Punk design before I really started… until now.

The way I’m choosing to look at this now is that I’m going to make the cringy things, and they may be terrible, but the more I make, the better I get. I can always revise them and go again, right?

We weren’t put on this earth to waffle about our work. We are here to make a dent, and since the world seems to be going to hell a little more with each passing day (I paid $5.69 for gas yesterday, and that was cheap.), we might as well foist our work above our heads in pride, because at least we’re making art instead of making war.

This design is now available in the shop. The goal is to let the audience decide if they love it or not with their dollars… or find the audience that will.

As far as the anonymous brand above which shall not be named; they’ve built something cool and maybe I’ll buy a shirt in appreciation. Then I’ll never visit that site again, because it’s none of my business.

Things I’ve Seen

I Think I Know Why That Famous Entrepreneur Pivoted Her Business (And She’s Not Going to Be the Only One) -

I’ve read three articles recently talking about this same topic, how AI is radically upsetting the apple cart for content creators, coaches, and course makers. The hypothesis is the same in all three articles; people won’t pay for knowledge anymore because AI can provide it faster and cheaper. Instead, what people will pay for it experience and discernment.

Where Diels’ separates herself from the others I read is in the data and the extensive footnoting. Instead of just spitting hyperbole, she comes with proof.

How I Brought 100K+ Visitors to My Substack via Pinterest -

I’m bearish on Instagram these days; like old, angry, starving Kodiak Grizzly kind of bearish. At the same time, I feel like I need to extend my promotional efforts of both this publication and my brand into other territory. I get a lot of inspiration from Pinterest, so I thought I should dig in and do more there. Wickstrom’s article couldn’t have come across my feed at a better time.

The Internet Archive

This might be the coolest thing I’ve stumbled across in a while. Stop letting AI tell you what it thinks is cool and let your own fingers flip through thousands of pages of pure inspiration.