This week, we’re exploring three moments that show up again and again in the life of a creative:

We’ll start with the disorienting feeling of awakening displacement—what to do when you’ve outgrown your old life but haven’t yet stepped into the new one.

Then we’ll talk about how to protect your ideas without smothering them—especially when you’re excited to share your creative work, but worry you might be saying too much too soon.

And finally, we’ll get tactical with a full breakdown of how I think about content strategy—what I’ve learned from years of working at places like BuzzFeed, what I’ve had to unlearn, and how I approach making content that’s both authentic and scalable.

Plus, my mood board this week is a little different, but if you’re a graphic designer or into brand identity, I think you’ll like it.

Let’s get into it.

Hey Ethan,

This is such an important question, and I’m really glad you asked.

From what I understand, awakening displacement is the disorienting space between an internal shift and an external reality that hasn’t caught up yet. It can come after a spiritual awakening, a major life event, or just a slow, quiet realization that the person you’ve been isn’t quite who you are anymore.

You feel like something cracked open inside you, but everything around you looks the same. You’ve changed, but your world hasn’t. And that gap between the two can be unsettling.

I’ve gone through it. For me, it hit hardest between the ages of 28 and 30. I had been chasing the same version of success for most of my 20s—grinding, performing, doing what I thought would move me forward. But during that stretch, the path I’d been walking suddenly stopped making sense. I wasn’t sure if I had outgrown it or if it had outgrown me. All I knew was that I felt disconnected from my work, my identity, and even my ambition.

It was one of the most creatively dry seasons of my life. I couldn’t make anything that felt like me, because I wasn’t sure who “me” even was anymore.

And to be honest, it was terrifying. I felt like I had lost the thing that made me who I was. I kept trying to go back to what used to work with old routines, old styles, and old ways of thinking, but none of it fit. It was like putting on pants I’d outgrown but couldn’t admit didn’t fit anymore.

That stretch lasted over two years. And I wish I could say I journaled my way out of it, or read the perfect book, or had some grand realization that changed everything. But it wasn’t that clean. The turning point came slowly and quietly, when I stopped treating the confusion as a problem to fix and started treating it as a phase to move through. When I stopped asking, “What’s wrong with me?” and started asking, “What is this season trying to teach me?”

I gave myself permission to be curious. I paid attention to what was pulling me, even if it didn’t look “productive.” I went on long walks. I sat with boredom. I let go of timelines. I started noticing which people gave me energy and which drained it.

I let myself be a beginner again.

One of the hardest parts of this kind of awakening is that it can feel invisible to everyone else. From the outside, you might look fine. You might even look successful. But internally, you feel like a stranger to your own life. That’s why this experience can feel so lonely. It’s a deeply internal shift. But that doesn’t mean it’s not real or that it’s not leading somewhere.

If you’re in that place, I want you to know it won’t last forever. The ground will settle. Your voice will come back. But it won’t sound exactly like it did before, and that’s a good thing. That’s how you know you’ve grown.

This isn’t the season to force output. It’s the season to build your inner world. And trust me, the work you do here, the quiet and invisible kind, is going to shape the next decade of your creative life.

When I was 28, I thought I was on track to become a full-time comedian. That was the story I’d been telling myself for years. Now I’m a designer, a writer, a creative director—none of which I planned for, but all of which feel more aligned with who I am today.

You don’t have to figure out the whole path right now. Just keep paying attention. Stay curious. Stay open. Follow what feels alive, even if it makes no sense yet.

You’re not stuck. You’re just in the middle of becoming.

Hope this helps.

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Hi Lizzie,

I’m going to start by quoting one of the great poets of our time: Lil Wayne.

“Real Gs move in silence like lasagna.”

I’ve mentioned this line before, and for anyone who doesn’t get the reference, he’s playing with the silent “G” in the word lasagna. Classic Weezy.

I could do an entire TED Talk on his wordplay, but that’s for another day.

Read more

This week, we’re tackling three questions that hit at the heart of the creative journey:

We’ll start with a reflection on bravery—where it comes from, and how to access it when fear won’t let go.

Then we’ll talk about how to actually bring your ideas to life, especially when you’re stuck in the cycle of dreaming without doing.

And finally, we’ll end with a deep dive on how to grow an audience—the mindset, mechanics, and a few tricks I’ve learned over the past decade of making content that’s been seen over a billion times.

Let’s get into it.

Hey Moshosho,

What a great question. And you already answered half of it yourself.

The key word isn’t fearlessness—it’s bravery.

I’m not sure fear ever really goes away, even when you become successful. Old fears get conquered, but new ones show up. It’s the act of bravery that separates the artists you admire.

Bravery isn’t something you learn. It’s something you do.

If you’re afraid to do something, especially something you know deep down you want to do, that’s your comfort zone trying to protect you. But the comfort zone is where ideas go to die. Being comfortable is the enemy of progress. So if you’re desperately searching for a breakthrough, and there’s something calling you, you’ve got to push through the fear and move toward it.

Now, you don’t have to slay the dragon on day one. Start with little acts of bravery.

Maybe that bravery is talking to the person in line next to you at the store.

Maybe it’s speaking up with an idea in a meeting.

Maybe it’s wearing the loud shirt that’s been sitting in your closet for two months because you’re scared you can’t pull it off.

When you practice bravery in the small moments, it becomes easier to show up in the big ones. You’ve got proof: I’ve done this before. It worked. Why shouldn’t it work now?

Only you know what you’re afraid of.

And you owe it to yourself to face that fear so you can set yourself free.

Fear is a liar. Don’t listen to it.

Be brave in small ways, so you can be brave in the big ones.

You can do this. I promise you. Even if it stings, even if it doesn’t go perfectly, you’ll be better for it. And the next time you face something scary, it’ll be a little easier.

Go be brave.

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Hi Michi,

Thanks for this question.

The ideation phase is so fun and exhilarating because it’s literally endless. When you’re in the ideation phase of a project, it can feel just like the first steps in a relationship with a person—you only see the good in it and the possibility. That’s a great, romantic spot to be in.

But when it comes time to actually execute on your idea, that’s when the pain comes in.

Read more

Wow. Last week, we put out another Instagram story asking if anyone needed advice, and I was blown away by how many thoughtful questions came in.

We’re going to get to as many as we can over the next few weeks. I want to give each question the time and care it deserves so that you (the one who asked) and you (the one reading) both walk away with something real.

There are so many universal struggles creatives are facing right now. I truly believe that when we talk about them together, in community, it makes us all feel a little less alone and a little more understood. That’s what this newsletter is for. Creatives need creatives.

If you submitted a question, I’ll get to it. Make sure you’re subscribed so you can follow along.

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Here are just a few of the topics coming up:

• Choosing a creative path without losing years to the wrong one

• Getting over the fear of starting (even the small stuff)

• Building an audience without burning out

• Finding your voice without feeling like a “delulu” dreamer

• Sharing ideas before they’re ready—helpful or harmful?

• How to keep creating after a setback or traumatic moment

• Fighting perfectionism when you’re scared you’re not good enough

• Where real creative courage actually comes from

This is a paid newsletter for $5/month. You get 4 issues a month, and I try to answer 3 questions per issue. That’s about $0.42 per question.

At the end of each issue, I also share a mood board of what’s inspiring me lately, along with a few things I just think are cool.

I know $5 can feel like a lot with everything going on in the world. And trust me, I don’t love asking the community for money. But if you’re in a place to support, it truly helps. Every paid subscription fuels Create.Repeat and helps us keep showing up for this community so we can continue to inspire the next generation of artists and creators.

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With that being said, let’s get into it.

Hey @malik_p1,

I’ve never heard the term “destination addiction” phrased quite like this before, but I really like it—and I definitely relate. Honestly, this is something I’ve been working through in my own life this past year, so I’m glad you brought it up.

From what I understand, destination addiction is the belief that fulfillment is always out there, never right here. It’s that feeling of:

But that feeling just resets itself every time you hit a new milestone.

Some people call that ambition, but often, it’s actually avoidance. Avoidance of the present. Avoidance of uncomfortable feelings. Avoidance of the idea that maybe right now has something to teach us, too.

I spent most of my twenties chasing goals and delaying happiness. I truly believed that unless I had my own TV show or was making movies for a living, I hadn’t “made it.” I tied my worth to my work. And when I didn’t hit those goals on the timeline I imagined, it sent me into the deepest spiral of my life—depression, burnout, and a full-on quarter-life crisis.

No matter how hard I worked, it was never enough. The goalposts kept moving. And even when I hit certain “wins,” the high was temporary. I didn’t feel satisfied, I just felt pressure to keep going. I wasn’t able to enjoy anything.

This year, I’ve been trying to better understand the engine behind that drive. Because the truth is, drive isn’t bad. It’s gotten me far. But when left unchecked, it can quietly run your life into the ground.

So I started exploring the idea of stillness.

I read Stillness is the Key by Ryan Holiday, spent more time in prayer and meditation, cut back on distractions (especially social media), and tried to give myself actual space to feel and think, not just achieve.

What I found surprised me.

Read more

If you’re reading this, you’re probably tired of playing the social media game. Or you’re intimidated by it. Or you think I’m some kind of content mastermind here to share all my secrets.

Am I a (recovering) content creator with over a billion views under my belt? Yes, I am.

Did I basically get my master’s degree in the internet working at peak BuzzFeed in the mid-2010s? Also yes.

Do brands hire me to help grow their socials and 10x their following? Yep.

Am I also a creative who’s completely burned out on social media and thinks about quitting every single day? Absolutely.

If you’re struggling with social media as a creative, welcome to the club. I’m frustrated by it. You’re frustrated by it. Everyone is.

So here’s the big question:

Unfortunately, yes.

But there are other ways to grow without burning out.

Here are seven ways I’ve learned to stay visible without losing myself, to share my work without resenting it, and to build a creative life that actually feels good to live.

Read more

This week, we’re tackling some of the most common creative struggles, and I’m also sharing a mood board inspired by the muses that have been fueling me lately. It’s a little all over the place, but it’s an honest look at where my head is and where I want to take Create.Repeat next.

Two questions kept coming up in our DMs: one about feeling overwhelmed by too many ideas, and the other about perfection and the anxiety that tags along with it.

If you’ve ever felt paralyzed by the pressure to do everything or frozen by the fear of not doing it perfectly, this one’s for you. We’re talking flow state, momentum, creative self-sabotage, and how to break through the noise in your head that keeps you from starting… or finishing.

Let’s get into it.

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Hi @imiplacesaalerg,

Welcome to the curse of being creative. Most of us wrestle with this, I know I do. Almost every day, I catch myself getting excited about too many things at once, only to lose steam when the high of the new idea fades and I run out of momentum. And once that momentum’s gone, it gets harder and harder to access the thing that actually makes the work feel good… flow.

A few years ago, I read The Art of Impossible by Steven Kotler. It was all about flow state and how it’s not some magical or random burst of energy, it’s something you can train yourself to tap into. According to Kotler, flow happens when you combine challenge, focus, and purpose. It’s about going deep, not wide. But when your attention is scattered across five projects, a dozen ideas, and a running list of things you “should” be doing, you never go deep enough to hit that state. You stay stuck in the shallow end.

So, now we kinda understand how flow works, but how does that help with prioritizing?

Let’s take a cue from an unlikely source: Dave Ramsey.

If you’re not familiar, Dave Ramsey is a personal finance author and radio host who’s helped a lot of people get out of debt. I don’t align with all of his views, but one idea stuck with me when I read The Total Money Makeover. It’s called the Debt Snowball. And I think it applies to creative work just as much as it does to finances.

Here’s how it works: you list all your debts from smallest to largest, and pay off the smallest one first, regardless of the interest rate. You make minimum payments on the rest. The idea is to get a quick win, then roll the money from that first debt into the next one, and then the next, building momentum like a snowball picking up speed downhill. It’s not the most mathematically efficient way to pay off debt, but it’s incredibly effective because it builds belief. Ramsey’s philosophy is that personal finance is mostly about behavior, not knowledge, and small wins keep people motivated.

I think the same rule applies to your creative life.

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Most of us sit down wanting to slay the dragon. We want to write the book. Make the movie. Launch the brand. We aim straight for the magnum opus. But the second we put all that pressure on it, our brain starts looking for an escape hatch. Suddenly, every other idea seems more exciting, more doable, more urgent. That’s not laziness, it’s self-protection. You’ve made the project so big in your head that starting it feels like failure is guaranteed.

There’s nothing wrong with new ideas, they might even be great. But sometimes they’re distractions dressed up as inspiration. So here’s what I recommend…

Take 30 minutes and write down every single idea you have. Dig through your Notes app, your voice memos, your old journals. Dump it all into one list. Then split that list into two columns: fun, dumb & easy, and challenging & rewarding.

Now, forget about the big stuff for a second. For the next month, I want you to focus only on the fun, dumb & easy column. Pick the ones that light you up and feel doable in a short amount of time. Your only job is to finish as many as you can. No perfection. No pressure. Just finish.

Because right now, all you’re looking for is momentum.

When you finish one thing, even if it’s small, it shifts something inside you. You start trusting yourself again. You prove to your brain that you can follow through. That’s your creative snowball. And once it starts rolling, that big project, the one that used to scare you, starts looking less like a mountain and more like the next logical step.

Creating becomes a habit and a rhythm. You stop chasing motivation and start showing up no matter what. And that’s when the real magic happens. Create. Repeat.

Don’t create for the outcome. Create for the process. You’ve been given this gift, not to hoard it, but to use it.

Now let’s dig a little deeper.

Read more

Welcome to Take It or Leave It, the weekend edition of Create.Repeat. It’s a space for the ones who are serious about building a creative life, not just dreaming about one.

Every week, we answer real questions from real creatives walking through real struggles.

And if we’re honest, the struggles you’ll read today aren’t unique to the people who asked them.

They’re universal. They’re the quiet battles that every creative faces behind closed doors—staying consistent, finding the courage to start, clearing the fog so you can think and create again.

You are not alone in what you’re feeling. You are not broken. You are on the path.

But the truth is, the path isn’t easy.

It will ask more of you than you sometimes think you have to give. And that’s exactly why spaces like this matter.

Take It or Leave It is a commitment to honesty, growth, and showing up when it would be easier to walk away.

If you believe in that… if you see yourself somewhere in these words…

I want to invite you to invest in your own creative journey by becoming a paid subscriber for just $5 a month.

Not out of obligation. But out of belief.

Belief in our mission and what we’re trying to build.

Belief in the work you’re called to create.

Belief in the person you are becoming.

We’re just getting started. And there’s room for you here.

Let’s dive in.

Hey @hoax.avi,

Thank you for this question.

Consistency is hard across everything. Your health, your finances, your relationships, and especially your creative work. The good news is, even if consistency doesn’t come naturally, it can be learned through practice.

A lot of people overlook the second part of our name. They see and connect with the word “Create,” but they forget about “Repeat.”

Whether you’re trying to get better at your craft, grow an audience, or open new doors for your career, it all starts with the same ability: doing something well, and then doing it again and again and again.

We talked about this in a past newsletter called Success is Boring:

Anyone can start. That part’s easy.

Starting is intoxicating—it’s the rush of new ideas, the fantasy of where it might lead. But success doesn’t come from starting. It comes from staying.

From making when no one cares. From posting when no one responds. From pushing through the point where most people stop.

The truth is, the work that changes your life looks a lot like the work that doesn’t.

And that’s why most people never get there.

They crave the dopamine hit of something new. They expect every project to be a breakthrough. And when the grind sets in—when the work turns slow, quiet, unglamorous—they leave.

That’s the part that separates pros from amateurs.

When I struggle with consistency, I try to identify what feeling is blocking me.

Like I said before, anyone can start. But when things get tough (or worse, boring), that’s when most people quit.

For me, when I realize I didn’t follow through on something I said I would, it’s almost always because the motivation behind it got twisted. It’s easy to call everything “inspiration.” But if the inspiration is secretly tied to validation, or a goal you can’t celebrate until you reach the finish line, you’re poisoning your mind without realizing it.

And as creatives, protecting your mind is part of the job.

Let’s be honest, we’ll always, in some way, seek validation.

Goals aren’t bad either. But when they rule you, they blind you to the real gift… the process.

I’ll say this until the day I die:

Stop trying to rush through the process just to get to a result where people will finally like you, or respect you, or think you’re smart, or whatever deep thing you’re chasing.

And here’s the flip side: even if you do achieve the validation or goal you wanted, it can be just as paralyzing—because now you’re afraid you’ll never live up to it again.

That’s why the answer is simple: Commit to the Repeat.

Do it again, and again, and again.

Fall in love with the process of creating, learning, and improving your craft. Let the results fall where they may.

Do you think the Beatles sat down trying to write a hit every time John and Paul picked up a guitar or sat at the piano? No. They wrote because they loved writing songs.

The Beatles released 213 songs. About 50 of them are considered “hits.” That’s roughly 25%… and they’re THE GREATEST BAND OF ALL TIME.

Give yourself some grace.

Focus on the process, not the outcome.

Show up for yourself because you deserve it.

Create. But don’t forget to REPEAT.

Hope this helps.

Sorry for the annoying paywall.

Behind it, you’ll find two more questions—one about conquering the fear of starting, and another about clearing brain fog—as well as a mood board of some things that have been inspiring my Create.Repeat designs lately.

Upgrade to a paid subscription (or use your free trial) to unlock the full newsletter.

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Some weeks you need a strategy. Some weeks you need someone to say, “Yep, that feeling is normal.”

This week’s Take It or Leave It has a little of both.

Welcome back to the weekend edition of Create.Repeat—where we answer your questions, offer honest advice, and share the stuff that’s keeping us creatively inspired.

Today we’re digging into:

• How to sell yourself without feeling gross

• Finding work as a writer when social media feels like a trap

• What to do when self-doubt won’t shut up

• That weird pressure when you’re almost at the finish line

• And how to stay grounded when you’re starting college

These questions came from real creatives in our community, maybe even someone who feels just like you. Whether you’re building a brand, chasing a dream, or just trying to stay motivated, there’s something in here for you.

And if Create.Repeat has ever helped you feel seen, steady, or creatively recharged, becoming a paid subscriber is the best way to keep it going. It’s just $5/month (cancel anytime) and it helps us keep building this thing ad-free, for the people who need it most.

Subscribe now

Thanks for being here.

Let’s get into it.

Hey @eyeswidestoned,

This is a question we've gotten a few times, so I’m glad you asked! I’ll answer it for you and anyone else who’s been wondering the same thing.

Selling yourself feels gross. Especially when your work is personal.

Art. Photos. Films. Whatever you make. These aren’t just products, they’re pieces of you. So when someone says “you need to brand yourself,” it can sound like they’re asking you to turn your identity into a vending machine.

And yeah, that sucks.

But if I’m going to be completely honest here, if you don’t learn how to talk about what you do, someone else will. And they won’t get it right. They’ll reduce you to a vibe, a niche, an aesthetic. You can either define your brand or settle for whatever label sticks.

So let’s flip the question: What if branding wasn’t about “selling yourself”…

Read more

Some weeks you need a push. Some weeks you need permission to pause. This newsletter is for both.

Welcome to Take It or Leave It—the weekend edition of Create.Repeat, where we answer your questions, offer honest advice, and share the stuff that’s keeping us creatively energized (and, let’s be real, creatively sane).

This week, we’re talking about:

• The fear of being seen and what it really means to show up

• What to do when your ideas spiral out of control

• How to price your work without spiraling

• And finding creative time when your job has taken all your energy

The questions came in hot this week—over 50 (!!!) submissions on Instagram alone—and we’re going to get to as many as we can over the next few issues. Even if your question isn’t answered this time, chances are someone else asked the same thing. These are the kinds of struggles that every creative bumps into at some point.

And at the end of this issue, I’ve put together a quick mood board highlighting the work of someone who’s been inspiring me the most lately. Just a little creative fuel in case you need it.

If Create.Repeat has ever helped you feel a little less stuck or a little more seen, this is your way to help us keep doing it.

This newsletter is for paid subscribers only—$5/month, cancel anytime—and upgrading is the best way to support what we’re building. It keeps this space alive, ad-free, and rooted in community instead of clicks.

At Create.Repeat, our mission is simple: to inspire and empower the next generation of artists and creators. If you have the means, we’d be grateful if you became a paid subscriber. And if you already are, thank you. You’re the reason this exists.

Let’s get into it.

Hi @Elenasprivateac,

First off, I love that this question is coming from your private account. How meta.

This is one of the biggest hurdles we face as creatives. And honestly, I’m not sure you ever fully get over it. You just meet new versions of it as you grow. Every time you level up, you face the same fear in a new form.

I go through waves. Sometimes I’m bold and confident. Other times I vanish, convinced I have nothing left to say. Creatives are feelers, so the fear of being misunderstood, dismissed, or rejected can cut deep. That fear doesn’t just mess with your creativity. It messes with your sense of self.

So in the spirit of courage, let me open up.

At the end of last year, we launched the Create.Repeat podcast. For the first time in a long time, I was front and center on camera, talking about the highs and lows of the creative life. The positive response was awesome. But the experience wrecked me more than I expected, and I disappeared.

We haven’t released a new episode this year. I’ve been afraid to.

See, before Create.Repeat, I was an internet personality at BuzzFeed in the mid-2010s. I made viral comedy videos. I had 200K+ followers, was verified on pre-Elon Twitter, got brand deals just for posting. It was a weird time, but it was mine.

Then life hit. Some deep, personal stuff forced me to stop and face things I’d been avoiding. I spiraled into a dark depression. I stopped creating. I stopped sharing. I let the fear of being seen—really seen—paralyze me.

I lost over 100,000 followers. I became irrelevant. I disappeared. And I lost my confidence completely.

But eventually, that quiet space led to Create.Repeat. I found a new kind of voice—one that wasn’t about performing, but expressing. Not about chasing virality, but sharing what was stirring in my soul. And to my surprise, people connected with that just as much as they once did with the polished, performative version of me.

So when the podcast launched and I was visible again, I was battling demons. Still am.

I fear being seen. I fear being known. And yet, that’s also my deepest desire.

So if you’re feeling that same tension—welcome. You’re not broken. You’re just honest.

You deserve to be seen. You deserve to make work and release it into the world. Whether it’s seen by a million people or just one, you are worthy of sharing what’s inside you.

Ask yourself: Why do I want to create? Why do I think I’ve been given this pull toward expression? What happens if I keep it locked inside?

You don’t need to chase validation. That’s a losing game. You create because you can. Because you must.

There are people in this world with the same heart as you and me but without the freedom, access, or support to make their voice heard. If you can create and share, then you must. However that looks for you.

Maybe that means I finally release the next episode of the podcast. Maybe that means you take a small, brave step today.

Whatever it is, remember you don’t have to perform and you don’t have to pretend. You are enough.

And you deserve to live a creative life that reflects who you really are.

Hope this helps.

👋 Hey, quick note: The rest of this issue is just for paid subscribers.

If you’ve been nodding your head or feeling seen while reading, consider upgrading. It’s just $5/month, and it helps us keep making honest, helpful content for creatives who need it. Plus, you’ll unlock the rest of this issue and all past editions of Take It or Leave It.

Subscribe now

Hi @Error480p,

This is a great question, and one I think every creative has wrestled with.

In my experience, prioritization isn’t a natural skillset for most creatives. It definitely wasn’t for me. I’ve had more than one performance review where the main note was, “You need to learn how to prioritize.” Not the most fun feedback, but not wrong either.

We’re natural explorers. Our minds are wired to follow sparks, chase curiosity, and see what happens when we veer off course. That’s what makes us creative. But as we grow—whether in our careers, our craft, or just trying to make art while juggling life—that instinct to chase every idea needs to be balanced with the discipline to finish something.

Here’s what’s helped me:

Read more

Welcome back to another edition of Take It or Leave It—Create.Repeat’s weekend newsletter, where we answer real questions from the community submitted through Substack Chat and Instagram.

This week, a lot of the questions shared a common thread: feeling stuck.

Stuck in your space.

Stuck in your habits.

Stuck in your head.

If that’s where you’re at right now, I hope this issue helps you shake something loose.

We’re talking about what it means to create when your workspace is also your living space, how to break out of a creative rut, the tension between potential and procrastination, perfectionism and the pressure to perform, and how to find energy again when you’re completely drained.

And just a reminder—this issue is for paid subscribers (booooo!!)

But if you haven’t used your free trial yet, now’s the perfect time to see what you’ve been missing.

Subscribing is also the best way to support what we’re building here.

It’s just $5/month, and you can cancel anytime (but hopefully, you won’t want to).

Okay, let’s get into it.

Hey @moldetek,

I know this feeling all too well.

You’re living in the same room you work in. The same room you create in. The same room you’re supposed to rest in. That blur between spaces can make it feel like every part of your life is bleeding together—and not in a good way.

It’s exhausting. It’s claustrophobic. And it’s hard to feel inspired when the walls haven’t changed in months.

But here’s what’s helped me.

First, recognize that this isn’t forever. It’s a season. And while it might feel stuck, seasons change, especially when you start to shift your approach.

When I’ve found myself in this exact spot, I’ve tried working in coffee shops, libraries, and even the park. Some days, it felt amazing—cosplaying as the screenwriter at the cafe, big-time main character energy. Other days, I just missed being home. The noise, the parking, the overpriced coffee, asking someone to watch your stuff while you use the bathroom for the third time in two hours, and being met with judgemental eyes… it added up.

If you can’t leave your environment, make it into something you want to be inside of.

Clean the clutter. Light a candle. Rearrange the furniture. Put on music that makes you feel like the person you want to be. Even tiny shifts—a new lamp, a whiteboard, a sticky note on your wall—can rewire how you feel in a space.

I rearrange my space every 3–6 months just to manufacture that new energy. It sounds silly, but it works.

And here’s the deeper layer: sometimes it’s not the space—it’s what the space represents.

When we avoid our creative work, we often blame the environment. But the truth is, it’s easier to say “this room isn’t inspiring” than to say “I’m scared to start.” You might be telling yourself your space isn’t good enough to create in… when really, you’re just afraid to make something that doesn’t live up to your own expectations.

I’ve learned that my space usually reflects how I feel inside. When things are chaotic in my mind, my desk is a mess. When I feel intentional, my space becomes that way too. So sometimes, the first creative act isn’t picking up a pen or camera. It’s making your bed. It’s cleaning off the desk. It’s choosing to care about the room you’re in—even if it’s the same one you’ve been in for months, maybe years.

And if you can, try scheduling your time differently. Even if you can’t physically separate your spaces, you can separate your time.

Work hours. Creative hours. Rest hours.

Switch the playlist. Change the lighting. Use subtle cues to signal a shift in energy.

You don’t need a new apartment to start fresh. You just need a new approach. Even in this same room, you can still become someone new.

You’ve got this.

Thanks for the question!

Hey @anja_bene,

Being stuck as a creative doesn’t just feel like you’re not making progress—It can start to feel like you’re disappearing. Like the part of you that dreams, that makes things, that wants more… is fading into the background, while life just keeps going without you.

I’ve been there. Honestly? I still find myself there more often than I’d like.

And here’s what I’ve learned: This weird, quiet, painful stretch where it feels like nothing is happening—this is part of the process. All of it counts. Even the standstills. Even the days where all you do is think about trying.

In my experience, feeling stuck is usually a sign that something is about to shift. You just don’t see it yet. Even asking this question is a sign that something inside you is already moving.

But I get it; living in a world that worships speed and constant output, it’s hard to feel okay about slow growth. Especially when social media is feeding you a highlight reel of people doing what you want to do—but 10x better, 10x faster, and somehow with better lighting.

Let me say this clearly:

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Welcome back to Take It or Leave It, our weekend newsletter where we answer big questions from the creative community and try to offer something useful, honest, and a little unexpected.

The goal here is simple: help you keep going. Help you get unstuck. Help you make things that matter.

If you believe in what we’re building and want more of it, consider becoming a paid subscriber. It’s $5 a month, and in return, you’ll get four extra newsletters every month—real conversations with other creatives, practical advice, personal stuff I don’t always share publicly. No fluff, no clickbait. Just the kind of things I wish someone had told me sooner.

You can cancel anytime. But if you’re looking for a way to support Create.Repeat and be part of what we’re growing, this is the best way to do it.

Subscribe now

Alright, let’s get into it.

This week, we’re talking about something people have very loud opinions about:

AI.

And where we stand.

Hi, Happy Hue.

It’s over.

We lost.

Not in a dramatic, doomsday kind of way. But in the way every generation eventually does—when a new tool comes along that permanently shifts the culture. Our parents lived through it. Their parents did, too. We just happen to be the ones holding the bag now, staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out what it all means while the world moves on without us.

If you haven’t kept up, OpenAI just dropped GPT-4o, their latest model. It can see, speak, hear, and respond in real time. It can generate realistic voices, animated faces, and incredibly detailed images, all within seconds. And people immediately started using it to turn their photos into Studio Ghibli-style memes.

Which… yeah, I guess is fun? But it also stings a little when you realize Hayao Miyazaki, the founder of Studio Ghibli, is famously anti-AI. Like, deeply anti-AI. He once saw a demo of a machine generating creepy movements for animation and said:

And now here we are. People replicating his life’s work with a prompt. Posting it for clout. Going viral. Ripping off the soul of someone who dedicated decades to his craft and doing it in seconds.

That’s what hurts. That’s what we’re all bumping into, whether we can articulate it or not. It’s not just that the machine can make things—it’s that it can do it fast. Faster than you. And sometimes, it looks good. Sometimes, it looks better than what you could’ve done with days or weeks of effort.

The first time I used an AI image tool, I typed in a description of a frame from a movie I’d been dreaming up. Something I’ve never been able to find the perfect visual reference for. And there it was seconds later. Exactly what I had in my head.

And I felt physically sick.

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Welcome to another edition of Take It or Leave It—the weekend Create.Repeat newsletter where I do my best to give advice on whatever’s going on in your creative world.

This week, we’re talking about what to do when you’re the only creative in your circle, how to break through a creative block after a long break, and why posting your work on Instagram might be both the problem and the solution.

Plus, a mood-board reflection on why we’re suddenly nostalgic for the internet’s awkward, ugly phase—and what that says about where we’re headed.

If you’re feeling stuck, alone, or unsure about how to share your work, this one’s for you.

As a reminder, this newsletter is for paid subscribers. For just $5/month, you get exclusive content while directly supporting the mission of Create.Repeat. And if you haven’t used your free trial yet, now’s the perfect time to start. No pressure, just inspiration.

Subscribe now

Let’s get into it.

Hey Jess, thank you for the question. You’re not alone in this. I’ve been through it many times, and honestly, I think I’m just now starting to feel like I’ve found my rhythm again after a creative drought of my own.

Taking a break from your work isn’t a problem. In many ways, I think it’s part of the process. It’s how we stay honest in what we make. I’ve always felt like my creativity lives in two modes: input and output.

When I’m in output mode, I’m fully immersed in creating. The ideas flow easily, and I feel like I’m finally doing what I was meant to do. It’s exciting. Energizing. You sit down to work and everything just clicks. That’s the space we all chase as creatives.

But that momentum doesn’t last forever. Eventually, I hit a wall. The ideas stop coming, the spark fades, and that flow state disappears. When that happens, I’ve learned not to panic. Instead, I shift into input mode.

Input mode is about rest. It’s about gathering, listening, observing, and living. It might look like you’ve stepped away from your creativity, but really, you’re just filling the well again. You’re collecting the raw material your future self will need to create something meaningful.

Sometimes, you reach a point where you’ve said everything you needed to say. If that’s the case, there’s no need to force more. Go live. Go experience something new. Let time do its thing. When you come back, you’ll bring a new perspective, and your work will reflect it.

I often think about the idea of the “sophomore slump” in music. A band or artist will spend their whole life writing their debut album, and then if it’s successful, they’re expected to make the next one almost immediately. That second album is often written while touring, adjusting to fame, or simply trying to meet a deadline. It ends up feeling rushed or disconnected, not because the sound is different, but because the message doesn’t hit the same. It’s missing that lived-in feeling that made the first one resonate.

So yes, I believe time in between projects is not just helpful, it’s necessary.

Now, as for finding your way back into your creative work, here’s what I’ve found helpful.

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Welcome back to Take It or Leave It!

So many great questions this week. Today we’re diving into:

• How to shape the voice, tone, and feel of your brand

• Balancing the fun and not-so-fun parts of running a creative business

• Sharing your work in a way that doesn’t feel repetitive

• Getting in the habit of catching and releasing ideas

Not a paid subscriber? No worries! You can start a free trial and check it out. Already used your trial? It’s just $5 a month, and you can cancel anytime. No hard feelings. This is the best way to support what we do.

Now, without further ado, let’s get into it.

Thanks for this one, Kyle (and me).

Let’s talk about branding.

Whether you’re a creator, business, artist, or just trying to get paid for your creative skills, understanding brand is one of the most valuable tools you can have.

I’ve been obsessed with brands since I was a kid—Jordan sneakers, the skate companies in Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater, album rollouts during the MTV TRL days. There’s this overused saying on LinkedIn that annoys me, but it’s true:

It’s not the Nike swoosh, the Apple on your laptop, or the Yankees emblem. A brand, whether personal or for a company, is a set of values and beliefs that bleed into everything you create.

First, Define Your Mission

Before you get into colors, fonts, or aesthetics, you need to understand your values.

What are you trying to do? What’s the message you’re trying to get across?

Develop a mission statement.

At Create.Repeat, our mission is simple: To inspire and empower the next generation of artists and creators.

That’s the lens everything goes through. If a post isn’t inspiring or empowering to creatives, it’s not Create.Repeat. Everything else—fonts, textures, colors—is just taste. The mission is the purpose. And purpose is the most important part of building a brand.

Know the Rules!

When I was Creative Director at Cameo (yes, the “$200 for a birthday message from a C-list celeb” app), I led a brand overhaul. Part of that process was creating a brand guide—basically, a rulebook for what the brand is and isn’t. Logos, colors, voice, tone, and the dos and don’ts of how the brand should show up in the world.

So what was the biggest thing I learned?

Creatives resist structure, but if you want your brand to be clear and focused, you need it. Trust me, I love throwing paint on a canvas and seeing what sticks. That’s great for art. But when it comes to branding, clarity beats chaos every time.

So start by figuring out what you actually like. And make sure you really like it because the best brands are consistent, and consistency can feel boring if you’re not intentional.

Build the Fence Around the Playground

Once you’ve got a sense of your taste, maybe you’ve made a moodboard, look for the common threads. Then define them and be strict.

• If a lot of your images lean toward warm colors, maybe your brand’s hero color is yellow.

• If your writing has a sarcastic edge, maybe that’s your tone.

• If you’re drawn to bold, clean typography, maybe that’s your visual identity.

Figure out what fits your message, and draw a line in the sand for what your brand is not.

How I Built Create.Repeat

When I was developing Create.Repeat, I was coming off three back-to-back startup jobs where I kept clashing with marketing teams over ad design. Every time, I’d hear the same thing: The ad needs to be direct, feature the offer, no extra creativity, just convert.

So I started digging into old ads from the ’80s, ’90s, and 2000s—proof that ads could be creative, bold, and actually interesting. That moodboard turned into an idea, and after getting laid off for the third time in three years, I had nowhere to put all that creative energy.

So I used it to build Create.Repeat.

At first, it was just a personal project. I designed dozens of graphics, sometimes posting five times a day. The goal wasn’t to build an audience—it was to figure out my creative voice, develop a system, and make sense of my own branding before putting it out into the world.

The System Behind the Style

Every Create.Repeat post looks related. That’s intentional.

• Fonts: I use only two—Helvetica in all caps (a classic) and a case-sensitive sans-serif.

• Texture: I found a film grain pack with the perfect fade, so whether I overlay it on an iPhone photo or a vintage scan, it all feels cohesive.

• Logo Placement: The Create.Repeat logo is always centered at the top of every graphic. Some people hate watermarks, but I built it into the design for consistency.

• Effects: I use my own take on an ink bleed effect to make the text bolder, more eye-catching, and give it that retro, grunge aesthetic I love.

These choices weren’t random—they came from exploring and refining. I tried variations, I tested different styles, and over time, I locked in what felt right.

Finding Your Brand Voice

You need to write. A lot.

Your voice comes from doing the reps—seeing what clicks, what feels natural, what people resonate with. Experiment. Pay attention to what gets ignored and what sparks engagement.

And once you land on a style that feels true to you… Define it. Make a brand guide, a Notion doc, a Google Slides deck—whatever keeps you accountable.

This is how I’ve developed brand, but it’s not the only way. You can use 600 fonts, 40 colors, and still be cohesive—as long as there’s a throughline.

Even if everything you make looks different, it should still feel like part of the same family.

But the most important thing I want you to understand? Know your mission.

If you don’t know why you’re doing what you’re doing, everything else is just aesthetics.

I’d love to break down the Create.Repeat brand even further—maybe even share a full brand guide. Would people be into that?

Thanks for the question!

Hey Francesco! This is such a good question—and honestly, I’m right there with you. I’m still figuring out what works best for me, but here’s my two cents.

The blessing and the curse of being a creative is that the job is fun. If it were up to me, I’d spend every day experimenting, designing, and making things just to see what happens. But that’s not how it works, not if you want to make a career out of it.

When you take the next step in your creative career, you quickly realize that doing the work you don’t like is just as important as the stuff you love.

I’m a creative because I don’t like math, sales annoy me, and pitching myself every day just to get rejected? No thanks. But if you’re building something, these things come with the territory.

Lately, I’ve been structuring my schedule based on which side of my brain I’m using—creative or analytical—instead of trying to juggle everything at once.

• Creative Days: These are all about exploration. Some are productive, others feel like nothing happens. That’s okay. The slow, boring ones are just as valuable because that’s when you detach from the noise and reconnect with your own creative instincts.

• Work Days: Calls, follow-ups, outreach, reports—stuff that requires caffeine and a willingness to just get it done. On these days, I let myself listen to new music or catch up on podcasts while working through the less exciting tasks.

So far, I’ve noticed a huge shift. The creative days feel more exciting because I’ve built anticipation for them, and the work days weirdly can feel like a relief. It’s nice to turn my creative brain off for a second and just check things off a list.

The hardest part is resisting the urge to mix everything together. It happens to me all the time—I get into a good rhythm, then a new project pops up, throws my schedule off, and suddenly I’m back in everything-everywhere-all-at-once mode.

You can live in that chaos for a while, but eventually, it catches up to you. And then… burnout.

So, try to be proactive about scheduling both the fun and the not-so-fun days. They’re equally important—so treat them that way.

Really hope this helps you (and me)!

Hey Pete! This is a really interesting question. Happy to dive in.

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Hey everyone,

Another week, another round of creative questions—and these are some of my favorites yet. We’re talking about breaking through creative blocks, getting your personal projects out into the world, and the best way to become a graphic designer without drowning in student debt.

If you’ve been feeling stuck, uninspired, or unsure of your next step, this one’s for you.

As always, I appreciate every question you send my way. If yours isn’t answered this week, don’t worry—I’ll get to it soon. And if you’re not a paid Take It or Leave It subscriber yet, welcome! This is a great place to start your free trial.

Let’s get into it.

Hey @apkinfolk, thanks for this question. It’s a big one.

You’ve probably heard this before—maybe you’ve seen it on a graphic (maybe even one of ours)—but there’s an old saying:

Perfection is an illusion. And the more time you spend making things, the more you realize that nothing will ever be perfect. That’s not a flaw, it’s the point. Art is subjective. One person might see your work as a masterpiece, while another might think it’s trash. That’s the human experience. That’s the beauty of creativity. Both people are right, and both are wrong.

I’ve said this before, and I’ll probably say it until my deathbed: The final product is for them. The process is for you.

The goal isn’t to make something flawless. It’s to create as often as possible, refining your instincts, sharpening your skills, and getting comfortable with the idea that most of what you make won’t be great and that’s okay. The only way to get better is to make a lot of things, and that means accepting that a good chunk of them will be mediocre. Maybe even bad.

Every “perfect” piece of art you admire—whether it’s a film, a book, a song, or a painting—wasn’t effortless. It just feels effortless because you didn’t see the process. You didn’t hear the artist’s self-doubt, the moments of frustration, the versions they scrapped. You’re comparing your behind-the-scenes to their highlight reel, and that’s always going to be a losing game.

Like any sensitive creative millennial finding himself in the early 2010s, I’m a huge Frank Ocean fan. I think he’s a genius. His music is flawless to me. I’ve played Channel Orange and Blonde more than any albums in my life. He makes music that’s creative, deep, inventive, and nostalgic all at once.

But while he only has two proper studio albums, he had to create a massive amount of music to get there.

Before Frank Ocean was Frank Ocean, he was a songwriter. He was writing songs for Beyoncé, Justin Bieber, John Legend—big artists, but he wasn’t seen as one himself. He was just a behind-the-scenes guy, grinding away, stacking up hundreds of songs that would never be released under his own name.

Then something happened. A demo of him singing Thinking About You—a song originally written for Bridget Kelly—leaked online. People heard his version and connected with it more than the intended release. That moment, that song, was a turning point. But by the time he was recognized as an artist in his own right, he had already put in the reps.

Maybe you’re in your songwriter phase right now. Maybe you need to keep making things, keep experimenting, keep failing, until you find your gold.

Stop trying to make something perfect. Just try to make something good. Then do it again. And again. And again.

Consistency beats perfection every time.

And in the process of showing up consistently, you might stumble into perfection a few times. But even then—perfection is an illusion.

Thanks for the question! Hope this helps.

Hey @ashima_pargal,

I hear you. I’ve felt this exact way before.

As a recovering Content Creator™, I know what it’s like to pour everything into a project—your time, your ideas, your late nights, your self-worth—only to release it into the world and get… crickets.

It’s exhausting. It’s demotivating. It makes you wonder, what’s the point?

Because as creatives, we want the energy we put into our work to be reciprocated. We want to feel like our work matters to someone. We want to feel seen.

And when that doesn’t happen, it’s easy to spiral.

But the moment you start creating for validation, you’re in trouble.

A mentor once told me this, and it changed everything.

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This week, we’ve got ten (yes, 10!!!) questions to tackle. Huge thanks to all of you! I’ll be breaking these into two parts, so if your question isn’t answered this week, don’t worry, I’ll get to it next time. Your paid subscription means a lot, and we’re so grateful to have you here.

If you’re not a paid subscriber and you’re just checking things out, welcome! This is a great post to start with.

If you enjoy it and want to support Create.Repeat, consider subscribing for just $5/month.

Subscribe now

Today, I’ll be answering questions like: How do you become a creative director? How do you turn a side gig into your main gig? How do you decide what to create? How do you increase sales for your product? And how do you integrate your philosophy and hobbies into your content?

Let’s get into it.

Hey Lé! Love this question. Let’s start with the first part: how do you get over the fear of being seen?

I’ll give you two answers: one for your creative soul and one that’s more cut and dry.

This fear is universal. Even the best of the best feel it. Sharing your work is intimate. It’s hard enough showing the people closest to you, let alone the entire world. But if you want to thrive creatively, putting yourself and your work out there isn’t optional, it’s necessary.

Here’s something I have to remind myself constantly, and I think it’s a good reminder for you too:

Actually, scratch that. You must take up space.

Whatever your craft is, whatever you want to say—it deserves to be seen, heard, read, consumed. Stop thinking of your ideas as yours. People like Rick Rubin and Elizabeth Gilbert talk about ideas differently than most. We’re vessels. Inspiration finds us, not the other way around. And when an idea finds you, your job is to bring it to life because if you don’t, it’ll either die or move on to someone else.

There’s something freeing about this. When I approach my work this way, it puts my ego in the back seat and lets the idea drive. That shift is key.

Now, the practical side: you need to practice taking up space. That doesn’t mean you have to stand in the spotlight right away. I spent my twenties doing exactly that—trying to make my personality the work instead of letting the work be the work. It left me burned out, chasing validation, and making stuff I wasn’t proud of.

So when I started Create.Repeat, I did the opposite. I made it faceless. No name, no identity, just the work. I let the message speak for itself. And that shift changed everything.

Maybe try that. Create a faceless account. Use a pen name. Submit your work anonymously. Get used to sharing without making it about you. It worked for me, it might work for you too.

How do you make the leap to Creative Director?

There are two paths: the traditional and the non-traditional.

The traditional is straightforward. You go to an art or advertising school, land an entry-level job at an agency, pick a lane (copywriting or art direction), climb the ladder, jump to another company for a better title, work your way up, land a CD role at a cool startup, rebrand everything, stay two years, then leave to start your own thing.

That’s a great path. But I didn’t take it.

I lucked into becoming a Creative Director, but I was preparing for it my whole life.

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Welcome to Take It or Leave It, the weekend newsletter for Create.Repeat.

If you’re new here, hi and welcome! But fair warning—this might not be for you.

This newsletter is for paid subscribers.

Wait, don’t grab your pitchfork just yet. Hear me out.

The internet is a wild place right now, and making a living as a creative is even wilder. I’m not asking for charity, but if you’ve ever enjoyed our content, this is the best way to support what we do.

Our mission is simple: to inspire and empower the next generation of artists and creators. We do that by putting out a ton of free content, and that will never change.

This is something extra. A deeper look, a different angle, and honestly, something I think is worth paying for. If not, you can cancel anytime.

It’s $5. That’s about half a coffee at one of these overpriced LA spots. If you can’t swing it, I get it. Those coffee prices are killing me too. That’s why we have a referral program:

• Refer 3 people → 1 month free.

• Refer 5 people → 3 months free.

• Refer 12 people → A full year, on us.

And if you haven’t used it yet, there’s a one-time free trial so you can check it out before committing.

Refer a friend

Give it a shot. Support independent creativity. Let’s keep this thing going.

Now, without further ado, welcome to Take It or Leave It. Let’s get into it.

Hey @just.joy.04 on Instagram,

Thanks for the question. I’m going to paraphrase it a little if you don’t mind.

You basically asked, “How do I know if I’m creative or not?” but I want to take this a step further—

Is that punchy enough?

I love this question because I think every creative person has asked themselves some version of it at some point. I’ve always seen myself as a creative person. When I was a kid, I was making movies with my neighbors, writing songs, sketching out comic books, designing skateboards—if I had an idea, I wanted to make it.

But creativity isn’t just about what you make. It’s about how you see the world. And you actually answered your own question with one keyword in your original message: curious.

Curiosity is the foundation of creativity. It’s the ability to ask, “What if?” and then chase the answer. If you find yourself questioning, exploring, and looking at the world from different angles, you’re already proving that you have the creative mindset. In that sense, everyone has the potential to be creative. The real difference between a “creative genius” and someone who feels like a pretender? One keeps making things despite the doubt.

And with curiosity comes doubt. Or, as it’s more commonly known, imposter syndrome.

When you choose to live a creative life, engaging with your creativity every day, it can feel isolating. Most people—whether they actively choose to or not—aren’t living like that. They aren’t questioning the world, experimenting, or chasing their own ideas. They’re reacting to what already exists.

There are people who are so wrapped up in the discourse of the world that other people are creating that they can’t relate to someone who’s trying to build something new. And when that happens, you start wondering if you’re the one who’s wrong. Maybe you aren’t creative. Maybe you’re just delusional. Or selfish.

I experience this at least once a week.

I ask myself, What the hell am I doing? Why would anyone listen to me? Who in their right mind would ask me for advice? Who would actually like my work?

But the truth is…

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Welcome to Take It or Leave It—our weekend newsletter where we share advice and the things inspiring us right now.

Got a question? Drop it in our Substack Chat, reply to this email, or leave a comment. We’ll do our best to answer!

Let’s dive in.

*deep breath*

Diana, I hear you. Every day, there’s another headline about AI taking over creative jobs, and honestly? I’m in the same boat. Some days, I think AI is an incredible tool for creatives. Other days, I wonder if it’s a ticking time bomb. So let’s talk about it.

First, My Honest Take on AI: I flip-flop on it daily.

On one hand, I use it all the time. It’s built into my workflow—I rely on it for spelling/grammar checks, quick feedback, and Photoshop’s generative tools to speed up tedious tasks.

When I started making graphics full-time for Create.Repeat, Photoshop’s AI tools had just launched. And I won’t lie—it was a game changer. Background removal, content-aware fill, automatic resizing—these tools helped me move faster, create more, and refine my style along the way.

The days of manually selecting objects or cloning out distractions feel ancient, even though it was only a few years ago.

But when it comes to fully AI-generated images? I’m out.

Not even for some moral stance—I just find them boring. AI-generated art, at least right now, feels sterile. It lacks the raw, messy, human imperfections that make real art powerful. The best creative work moves you. AI, as it stands, doesn’t.

So what do you do as a designer? You’ve got two paths:

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Apologies for the extra email this week—but I promise this one’s important.

We’re launching something new: Take It or Leave It, a bonus weekly newsletter exclusively on Substack.

Why are we posting twice a week now?

Because Create.Repeat has always been about supporting and inspiring creatives. And some of you have told us you want more—more connection, more insight, more value.

So, Take It or Leave It will be just that:

📌 An advice column answering your creative questions

📌 A mood board of what’s inspiring me right now

📌 Behind-the-scenes thoughts on creativity, work, and life

📌 And maybe some surprises along the way

Full transparency: This one’s behind a paywall.

I know… I’d be annoyed too. But that’s why it’s called Take It or Leave It.

The Create.Repeat newsletter will always be free. That’s not changing. But for those who want to support the work we’re doing and dive deeper, this is your way to do that.

It’s $5/month or $50/year, and you can cancel anytime.

What do you get?

👀 A more personal look into my creative process

✏️ Honest, no-BS advice for navigating a creative career

💡 The things I’m thinking about, struggling with, and figuring out in real time

If that sounds like something you’d be into, I’d love to have you.

If not, no worries—you won’t get any more emails about this (maybe the occasional plug in the main newsletter). Keep hanging with us on Wednesdays.

But if you want more Create.Repeat—this is your chance.

Let’s keep making more of the things we want to see.

Without further ado, welcome to Take It or Leave It, Volume 1.

“Advice… You can’t really take anyone else’s advice, because their advice is based on their experience, not yours.”

— Rick Rubin

With that being said, let’s get into it.

@createpoeticvibes on Instagram asks:

How do you stay committed to the creative path that feels most natural? (Especially when there are a lot of different ideas.)

Short answer..?

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