To all the differently wired creative unicorns who thought they were the problem: you’re not.
Bonjour friends,
A while ago, I was standing in my studio with a to-do list the size of a baguette, not sure which side to bite into first.
Ok, when I say to-do list, what I really mean is more of a chaotic swirl of thoughts and ideas fighting for my attention, spread across various supports: some, hurriedly typed on my phone, some scribbled in many (waaay too many) notebooks, some hiding in a semi-abandoned project management app I swore would solve all my problems, and some scrawled on the back of a medical aid claim (oops, didn’t actually mean to write on that).
I remember thinking: I love coaching. I love creating things. I love taking photographs. But why can business and marketing feel so damn hard at times and quite frankly, wrong?
I’d spent years trying to do things the “right” way like the good girl I had learnt to play, convinced she was more palatable (read: more lovable) than my odd, quirky, expressive, too-much self.
I tried it all. The productivity systems. The content calendars. The mindset work. The marketing and sales blueprints. I devoured online business advice like croissants: flakey, promising, but ultimately leaving me bloated, crampy and covered in an angry rash (those of you who know me well know that I tragically developed an intolerance to gluten in recent years, so no more croissants for moi sadly).
This croissant metaphor was entirely unplanned by the way, but I think it’s pretty spot on. Because just like croissants, general marketing advice can work great for a lot of people… but you may not realise until after you’ve ingested it that it clearly wasn’t made for you.
Then, at the end of last year, in yet another shocking plot twist, I was diagnosed as AuDHD. As in: I’m autistic and I have ADHD.
Cue both the existential unraveling (How did I not know this? What does it mean about my identity? My work? How much have I been masking? Is this why I’m so particular about how I make tea? Does this mean not everyone talks in movie and song quotes?) and the incredible relief (Wait, so there’s actually nothing wrong with me? Is this why SO many of my friends are on the spectrum?).
Suddenly, all the weird contradictions made sense. Why I could hyperfocus for 6 hours straight and forget to eat, but also feel physical resistance to opening my inbox at times. Why I could hold a hundred creative ideas in my brain or untangle patterns from chaos but could not, for the life of me, follow someone else’s “proven 3-step launch plan.”
Turns out, I wasn’t bad at business. I was just doing it someone else’s way. A way that didn’t take into consideration how my brain works, my fluctuating energy levels, sensory sensitivities, and didn’t align with my values.
Cue the tiny revolution that happened in my brain (sans guillotine): Creative brains need creative solutions.
Sometimes, the rules book doesn’t just not fit you, it was never written with your brain in mind (shocker, I know).
If marketing or selling your art feels like wearing wet socks or swimming in peanut butter (my personal idea of sensory hell) it’s not because you’re weak, or lazy, or uncommitted. And it’s not your nervous system being dramatic. It’s just your wise inner voice staging a quiet revolution with a simple: Non.
You’ve probably spent a lifetime shushing that voice in order to fit in, which makes sense when you consider the kind of world we live in.
But when you start listening to it and truly embracing it in all its glorious quirkiness (instead of smothering it with someone else’s blueprint): That’s when the magic happens.
Whether you’re neurodivergent or not, I’ve found that artists, creatives, and gloriously self-employed square pegs (who feel sick after years of trying to squeeze into round holes) thrive when they do business and marketing differently. But leaning into that can feel scary as hell at first, because that means going against the grain.
I nearly didn’t send this by the way.
At the last minute, I was ready to pull the plug. What if people see me differently? What if they stop trusting me as a coach or an artist?
But here’s the truth: I’m still the same person I have always been. I have the same strengths, the same gifts, the same skills. I just have a deeper understanding of how my brain actually works and a lot more compassion towards myself. I am learning to work with myself instead of against myself, in a way that protects my mental health, nurtures my creativity, and builds a business that’s sustainable instead of soul-sapping.
Changing the narrative about what it means to thrive as a creative, highly sensitive neurodivergent person is worth the risk. Because when you’re differently wired, you see the world through a kaleidoscope the rest of the world might miss. And that perspective? That’s not a flaw. It’s often the very thing that accelerates change.
Making things work for you
I guess what I’m trying to say with this is there is not one “right” way of doing things. Consider this your permission slip to do things in a way that works for you, and to ignore what doesn’t serve you.
And this can look very different to what you’re used to seeing on social media.
Lately, I’ve been having (possibly too much) fun creating an email side quest for the artists inside the Come Together Artist Collective to either start their mailing list from scratch or revive one that’s gone a bit dusty. It’s called:
Summoning The Email Muse: A Side Quest for Artists Who’d Rather Be Making Art.
(But it’s not just for artists).
I designed it to feel like an actual quest, where you complete daily missions and earn nervous-system-friendly rewards instead of ticking boxes. It’s part storytelling, part strategy, part rebellion against performative productivity. There are eccentric muse characters to guide you along the way, creative prompts, and just enough structure to keep your brilliant brain feeling safe, not caged. And at the end of it, you have all the foundations in place to create really cool emails that feel like you in a way that is fun and sustainable.
Some folks who were previously allergic to the very idea of email marketing have called themselves converts and urged me to share it with a wider audience. So who am I to argue?
Want in?
I’m not entirely sure when this will launch (we can thank time blindness and a tendency to overcommit for that), but if like me, you kinda hate algorithms and traditional “newsletters” but crave real connection with your audience and want to have fun in the creative process, this might be just your jam Nutella.
Click here to subscribe to be the first to know when it drops.
Much love and creativity (with a touch of spice), always.
YOU MIGHT BE INTERESTED IN:
GET YOUR ART TOGETHER
(because winging it only gets you so far)
Get Your Art Together is a deep-dive, focused 90-minute coaching session for artists and creatives who need a clear plan without the overwhelm. We’ll map out your next steps, whether it’s launching an offer, organising a project, your finances or finally getting your work in front of the right people. Plus, you’ll get a full week of follow-up support (email and WhatsApp) to put your plan into action.
This offer is R2,000 / $260 and great if you need coaching support without committing to a full coaching series.
If that sounds like something for you, let’s chat!
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