This Is Your Sign to Start
Go make the thing
There’s an idea in your head right now that won’t shut up.
You know the one. It’s been quietly sitting in the back of your mind, tugging at your attention, whispering, “Hey, maybe you should try this.” You’ve probably dismissed it a dozen times already. You’ve told yourself it’s not ready yet. That you’re not ready yet. That it’s a dumb idea. That people will laugh at you.
And yet, it’s still there.
This is your sign to do the thing.
Whatever “the thing” is for you, whether it’s a podcast, a blog, a business idea, or a weird art project you’re convinced no one will care about, it’s time to make it. Life is too short to let ideas rot in your head because you’re afraid of looking stupid, or afraid of not being good enough, or afraid of being judged simply for trying. Those fears don’t magically go away, no matter how much experience you gain. You just learn how to move through it and carry them with you without letting them stop you. That’s what nobody tells you. You think confidence comes first, but it doesn’t. You go first, and confidence comes later.
I wish I could tell you that writing a book with Penguin Random House was some magical moment of validation. That once we signed the deal, all my self-doubt evaporated and I felt like a “real” author. But the truth is, announcing the book has been one of the most anxiety-inducing moments of my creative life. I’ve never felt imposter syndrome more intensely than I do now. I’ve been a writer for years. I write this newsletter. I write other things. Writing has always been part of my creative identity. But putting out a book? Like, a physical thing that lives in bookstores and libraries and homes? A thing that claims to give people advice?
That feels different. That feels permanent. And permanent feels scary.
I keep thinking, who am I to write a book about creativity? Who am I to try to inspire people? I don’t have all the answers. I’m not some shoeless self-help guru standing on a mountain, waving a flag, shouting advice down to everyone else. I’m just a person who’s trying to figure it out, just like you are. Morgan and I didn’t write this book from a place of expertise. We wrote it while climbing out of a hole. We wrote it in real-time, as we were dealing with every doubt, every setback, every “maybe this isn’t working” conversation. It started as almost a daily diary, where we’d unload our frustrations about the creative process and how mentally exhausting it can be to keep pushing through when no one’s paying attention yet.
Most of the book was written during quiet walks with our dog at night or over weekend coffees when it was just the two of us, talking about how hard it is to stay motivated when the finish line feels invisible. That’s the version of creativity people don’t see. The unglamorous, tedious, emotionally draining version. And that’s why announcing the book felt so vulnerable. Because the moment you share something with the world, it stops being yours. People will take it and project their own opinions onto it. Some will love it, some will criticize it, and most will scroll past it and never think about it again. You can’t control any of that. You just have to live with it.
And letting go of control is the hardest part of the creative process. You have to be strong enough to not be defined by how people receive your work. You have to separate your identity from their feedback, good or bad. That’s the trade-off. You get to bring an idea to life, but in exchange, you have to be willing to let go of how it’s perceived.
I’ve always said that the process is for you, and the final product is for them. And now, I’m living that in real-time. I’m mourning the creative process of writing that secret project that only Morgan and I knew about. The thing that dominated our walks, weekends, dinners, and sleepless nights. The private joy of building something that wasn’t public yet. Now that it’s out there, it belongs to everyone else.
That’s how it’s supposed to be, but it’s still a weird emotional shift.
Getting to this point required us to believe in the project before anyone else did. Our families didn’t believe us when we said we were writing a book, and it wasn’t because they didn’t support us; it was because it wasn’t real to them yet. It wasn’t until they saw the Penguin Random House logo on our Instagram post that they fully understood. That’s how creative work goes. You have to carry the vision by yourself in the beginning. You have to nurture it when it’s fragile and no one else can see it. You have to keep going through all the doubts, all the crickets, all the quiet days where you wonder if this is a giant waste of time.
Eventually, the world catches up. But the belief has to start with you.
So yes, this is a plug to pre-order our book. But more importantly, this is a reminder that you don’t need permission to start the thing you’ve been putting off. You don’t need more validation. You don’t need to feel “ready.” You just need to take the first step, knowing full well that it’s going to feel awkward and uncomfortable and maybe even pointless at times. That’s the price of admission.
Morgan and I wrote a book. That feels surreal to even type. But we did it. We aren’t geniuses; we just kept going. That’s really all it takes. You have to be willing to look a little foolish, to be misunderstood, and to trust in your own vision long before anyone else gets it.
So go make the thing.
Keep creating and repeating,
Zack
P.S. You can pre-order Create.Repeat: 365 Days of Creativity here. It’s currently the UK version, with the US version open for pre-orders a little closer to the November 27 release date.
P.P.S Thank you so much for the kind words already. Happy to be part of this community :)
📜 In Search of Beautiful Books: Medieval manuscripts examined through the lens of modern graphic design.
📓 The Kool‑Aid Factory: Zines on how organizations coordinate, communicate, and build systems.
🗣 Clear Communication: Behind every successful design project is a foundation of clear communication.
🙂 Metalabel: A platform for creators to release work together and share value.
Create.Repeat is a community for creatives.
The Create.Repeat Substack is a project designed to be a weekly diary on creativity. Sharing inspiration for artists to keep creating and repeating.
Written and curated by Zack Evans & James Warren Taylor
Each week we will be sharing recent thoughts on creativity, some links helping us stay creative, and a talent show featuring an artist from the community. Thank you for engaging with us.
History repeats. Create the future.
This is a promotional post but real solid words that hit home!
“That’s how creative work goes. You have to carry the vision by yourself in the beginning. You have to nurture it when it’s fragile and no one else can see it. You have to keep going through all the doubts, all the crickets, all the quiet days where you wonder if this is a giant waste of time.”
I really needed to hear this today. Thank you for doing what you do!
When do international preorders start?
Thank you for this post, it hit hard. I decided to pursue an idea i had for such a long time, and I thought that it would make me feel AMAZING. In some ways, it did and does, by giving me adrenaline rushes of ideas, new things to add and implement, create and reiterate. On the other side... who am I to create this? Can i truly help people even if im 23 and unexperienced?