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DITAJA
The following is a narrative essay I wrote after my conversation with Bridget Baker.
Fitting in was my survival strategy—until I realized it was suffocating my creative potential.
In high school, I could morph myself into any group. In college, I went to parties even though I hated big groups of people. As an adult, I put on a "professional" face even when all I want to do is have fun.
I thought, If I can just be smooth enough, normal enough, I'll finally belong.
Spoiler: It never worked.
During a conversation with my friend Bridget Baker—a former professional dancer turned branding expert—she said something that hit me hard: What if the parts of your story you're afraid to share are actually your greatest creative asset?
I've often thought about how to share my moments of failure without people thinking "He has no idea what he's talking about. Why should I listen to him?" But what I realized when talking to Bridget was, we are not our failures.
Failures are just a part of our journey. They can make us stronger if we lean into the lessons they are trying to teach us.
Let's talk about those moments you've labeled as "too much."
For me, it was improv. I love improv. It taught me so much about creativity, problem-solving, and staying present. But for the longest time, I kept that part of me under wraps. I worried people wouldn't take me seriously. I thought they'd hear "improviser" and assume, Oh, he's just a guy who makes jokes.
Then I said, "Eff it. Who cares if people think it's weird?"
When I started sharing lessons I learned from improv, something magical happened. My audience loved it. People who had never done improv said things like, "Wow, I could never do that!" It struck a chord because it wasn't just about improv—it was about creative courage.
A few years ago, I was working on multiple projects to help artists market their work. I poured my heart into it—hundreds of blog posts, nearly 100 podcast episodes, hours of connecting with my audience.
When I finally offered my services, I was met with crickets. Not a single reply or hint of interest.
It was devastating. I had done everything the "experts" said: build trust, provide value, connect authentically. But nothing worked.
So, I took a break. I let go of the dream for years, feeling like I had failed.
Fast forward to now: I've returned to this work with fresh energy and a deeper understanding of what creatives like you need. And you know what? That failure wasn't the end of my story. It was the middle.
Sharing this with you isn't easy. But I've learned that the more open and honest we are, the more deeply we connect with our audience. People lean in when they see themselves in your story.
Here's your challenge:
I used to think being a fan of anime, superheroes, or cartoons made me weird. When I was younger, everyone watched cartoons. But as we got older, I'd hear things like, "Eww, you still watch that?"
So I hid those parts of me. I didn't tell people I watched Dragon Ball Z every afternoon. I kept quiet about the mini blogs I built for South Park and Rurouni Kenshin.
It wasn't until years later that I realized how mainstream those interests had become. There were conventions, toy shops, and even streaming platforms dedicated to anime.
The lesson? It doesn't matter if other people think you're weird. What matters is that the right people get you.
With so many distractions out in the world, you're not only competing against other books, blogs, and emails. You're also competing against everything else people can being doing: watching Netflix, scrolling through Instagram, watching Youtube, doing things out in the real world.
There are an endless source of distraction and ideas that can pull people away from your writing. So the best way to stand out and grab people's attention is being your weird, authentic self.
People don't just buy from you because your work is good. They buy from you because of the way it connects with them. The more you can find those tiny details people can relate to, the more they will follow you and your work.
Standout Creative Business for Authors is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.
Ready to transform your quirks into your greatest writing advantage? Let's do this.
The world doesn't need another carbon copy. It needs your wild, wonderful, perfectly imperfect stories. By embracing the unique aspects of your writing voice and experiences, you can create work that truly stands out.
Spots are extremely limited, so sign up now if you want to be one of the first five authors to receive a bonus 30-minute strategy session.
Visit The Standout Creatives to book your spot.
142 episod
Standout Creatives: Business, marketing, and creativity tips for solopreneurs launching their ideas
The following is a narrative essay I wrote after my conversation with Bridget Baker.
Fitting in was my survival strategy—until I realized it was suffocating my creative potential.
In high school, I could morph myself into any group. In college, I went to parties even though I hated big groups of people. As an adult, I put on a "professional" face even when all I want to do is have fun.
I thought, If I can just be smooth enough, normal enough, I'll finally belong.
Spoiler: It never worked.
During a conversation with my friend Bridget Baker—a former professional dancer turned branding expert—she said something that hit me hard: What if the parts of your story you're afraid to share are actually your greatest creative asset?
I've often thought about how to share my moments of failure without people thinking "He has no idea what he's talking about. Why should I listen to him?" But what I realized when talking to Bridget was, we are not our failures.
Failures are just a part of our journey. They can make us stronger if we lean into the lessons they are trying to teach us.
Let's talk about those moments you've labeled as "too much."
For me, it was improv. I love improv. It taught me so much about creativity, problem-solving, and staying present. But for the longest time, I kept that part of me under wraps. I worried people wouldn't take me seriously. I thought they'd hear "improviser" and assume, Oh, he's just a guy who makes jokes.
Then I said, "Eff it. Who cares if people think it's weird?"
When I started sharing lessons I learned from improv, something magical happened. My audience loved it. People who had never done improv said things like, "Wow, I could never do that!" It struck a chord because it wasn't just about improv—it was about creative courage.
A few years ago, I was working on multiple projects to help artists market their work. I poured my heart into it—hundreds of blog posts, nearly 100 podcast episodes, hours of connecting with my audience.
When I finally offered my services, I was met with crickets. Not a single reply or hint of interest.
It was devastating. I had done everything the "experts" said: build trust, provide value, connect authentically. But nothing worked.
So, I took a break. I let go of the dream for years, feeling like I had failed.
Fast forward to now: I've returned to this work with fresh energy and a deeper understanding of what creatives like you need. And you know what? That failure wasn't the end of my story. It was the middle.
Sharing this with you isn't easy. But I've learned that the more open and honest we are, the more deeply we connect with our audience. People lean in when they see themselves in your story.
Here's your challenge:
I used to think being a fan of anime, superheroes, or cartoons made me weird. When I was younger, everyone watched cartoons. But as we got older, I'd hear things like, "Eww, you still watch that?"
So I hid those parts of me. I didn't tell people I watched Dragon Ball Z every afternoon. I kept quiet about the mini blogs I built for South Park and Rurouni Kenshin.
It wasn't until years later that I realized how mainstream those interests had become. There were conventions, toy shops, and even streaming platforms dedicated to anime.
The lesson? It doesn't matter if other people think you're weird. What matters is that the right people get you.
With so many distractions out in the world, you're not only competing against other books, blogs, and emails. You're also competing against everything else people can being doing: watching Netflix, scrolling through Instagram, watching Youtube, doing things out in the real world.
There are an endless source of distraction and ideas that can pull people away from your writing. So the best way to stand out and grab people's attention is being your weird, authentic self.
People don't just buy from you because your work is good. They buy from you because of the way it connects with them. The more you can find those tiny details people can relate to, the more they will follow you and your work.
Standout Creative Business for Authors is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.
Ready to transform your quirks into your greatest writing advantage? Let's do this.
The world doesn't need another carbon copy. It needs your wild, wonderful, perfectly imperfect stories. By embracing the unique aspects of your writing voice and experiences, you can create work that truly stands out.
Spots are extremely limited, so sign up now if you want to be one of the first five authors to receive a bonus 30-minute strategy session.
Visit The Standout Creatives to book your spot.
142 episod
Player FM mengimbas laman-laman web bagi podcast berkualiti tinggi untuk anda nikmati sekarang. Ia merupakan aplikasi podcast terbaik dan berfungsi untuk Android, iPhone, dan web. Daftar untuk melaraskan langganan merentasi peranti.