"So, what do you do?"
Never panic again when someone asks the question you likely hate the most.
I’m working on a new project, and because I love to build in public, I’m sharing the first part with you here. It’s called the Creative Generalist Identity Roadmap, and I’m making it to help people plant a gigantic flag into the shoes of anyone who dare ask that question ever again. - D.
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.
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