Field notes from the other side

Hello Reader,

Sweat glistens on my upper lip. I dab my forehead with a folded washcloth. Sigh heavily and lean back into the pillow. Even though I birthed my book in December 2024, I’m still feeling waves of exhaustion and delight.

I started writing Welcome to the Creative Club in November 2023. I’ve learned so much from writing and publishing my story. I can’t believe I buckled up for this wild ride almost two years ago.

As I’m entering a new phase with the audiobook launch, looking back and sharing the learnings feels important.

Let’s start with a somewhat surprising one: Creativity is fertilized in supportive nutrient-rich soil. I underestimated how important having a stable and loving environment is for creativity.

If you read the book, you’ll know chaos and I go way back. I used to think drama and action colored my creativity, but it muffled it, holding a hand over its mouth.

My support network of friends, my ride-or-die hubby, and creating stability within myself after years of therapy (still going), laid the groundwork for a book to be born (it also poured cement for my business).

Writing it also showed me I can commit. As a manifesting generator and Gemini who curates chaos and craves the dopamine hit of checked-off lists, my inner wild child usually pulls me in many different directions (look, a seagull!).

But this book kept me anchored. It felt important in ways known and unknown. A mix of my purpose, desire, and gut pull kept me writing. If my purpose is to unleash creativity to build a better world, then I also need to do that for myself.

It’s fascinating how many of my clients (and myself) need to be reminded that purpose isn’t just for others, but also for ourselves. Being in integrity means also doing your thing for you.

Writing Welcome to the Creative Club machete cut through weeds, carving a path for my own creative ventures to exist in the world. I didn’t realize how vital this was to me until I breathed it in. Until I tasted it.

The book also revealed, wiping its sleeve on a fogged car window, that fuck it and intuition are a beautiful pairing. They usually go together like oysters and a crisp, mineral-y Muscadet (now Pellegrino with lemon).

The universe held out its hand, in the form of the founder of a hybrid publisher reaching out to me on Twitter, and after briefly considering it, I took it with a sweaty palm. I felt my gut say “do it” without knowing what it would be or how it would turn out, despite the significant investment. I said, fuck it, let’s do it.

This highlighted in fluorescent yellow creativity requires not knowing. I don’t know what I will conceive until I create it. I didn’t know what the book would be about until I started writing it. If we wait to know before creating, whether a book or a business, we’ll be waiting a long time (crickets chirping).

I've learned how to ask (more fuck its). Without asking people to support the presale, write reviews, or buy it, the book wouldn’t have made it into the world.

It showed me where I wasn’t standing for myself or my work because I was afraid of a ‘no’ or of being seen as ‘annoying’ or ‘sales-y’. Who am I to make decisions for other people? After months of practice, I’m much better at asking (and I'm still learning and practicing).

Before publishing, my knees knocked when I thought about how my Dad might receive the book, really fearing what he'd think of me. Turns out, he didn’t think much about it. For whatever reason, he wasn’t able to see me or express what he saw, which taught me another colossal learning: what people think of me or my work is none of my business.

Let people have their own experience of the book or [fill in the blank]. Remembering this belongs to them, not me. Their response is a reflection of parts of themselves or their experience (or things they don’t want to see).

This separation is needed to be vulnerable in the public eye or in the arena (even if that public is just close family and friends).

Gratitude puts peroxide on the 2-star wound. Someone took the time to read my book and share feedback. It touched someone enough, whether a shove or a hug, for them to respond publicly. That’s a win even if it feels like defeat. I might need a little time and Ben and Jerry’s Cherry Garcia to see it that way.

An unexpected byproduct of the book was the people it connected me with. Some old friends and colleagues came out of the woodwork to support me, like Suzana from Google, who wrote early praise for the book. We judged an advertising competition in an all-inclusive resort in the Dominican Republic with cigarette-smoking Russians and drunk teenagers years ago, and reconnected through Welcome to the Creative Club.

New connections emerged. After being introduced through the book, Tyler Bodkins, a musician and producer, and I became fast friends and creative partners. We're working on a spoken word album using the poems from the book, launching this summer. Can't wait to share it with you, Reader.

And the book keeps bringing new people into my world, and I’m dripping with gratitude for all of it (sweating appreciation).

It also revealed who’s no longer in close crew quarters. Who was conspicuously absent. It shined a light on who was in the room and who had left the building a long time ago. Helpful data.

So, when people ask me, looking back, if you knew what it would take to write the book, would you still do it? My answer is hell yes.

Seven months into promoting the book, I’m starting to feel the urge to move on to new creative projects. The book is leaving the house and needs to live on its own, with the occasional check, homemade dinner, and laundry services provided, but not full-on care.

It’s hard to know when to slow down or shift gears. My marketing coordinator (who is also phasing out) said promoting a book is a life-long project. Yes, and it will go through different phases. My gut, desires, and fatigue are showing me it’s time to change it up.

The audiobook launch feels like perfect timing. After months of recording in a homemade fort, moving from cringing at my recorded voice to nodding along with it, the audiobook is now available on Audible and Amazon.

Given the deeply personal stories in my book, I was the only one who could narrate it. I’d love to hear what you think (come tomatoes or roses).

It feels like a chapter is closing, and another one is being written. As usual, this means I don’t know what that will be — yet.

I hope this fuels your creative venture. I’m holding Gatorade on the sidewalk for you (and I'm here for any questions or rah-rah cheer).

Keep creating,