These women were running things.

Sure, there were grand gestures and missed flights and emotional piano montages. But underneath all that? Emotional intelligence. Conflict resolution. Reinvention arcs. Strategic charm.

These weren’t just love stories. They were leadership case studies in heels.

Turns out, I didn’t just learn how to fall in love from Nora Ephron; I learned how to manage people, pitch ideas, and pivot mid-crisis.

Here’s what the rom-com universe taught me about being the kind of leader people actually want to follow.

The Power of the Monologue

“You complete me.” — Jerry Maguire (but also every solid pitch ever.)

Rom-coms revolve around one thing: the speech. The big, heartfelt, everything-on-the-line moment where the protagonist drops the act and tells the truth. Jerry Maguire doesn’t win over Dorothy with a spreadsheet. He wins her with clarity. Heart. Timing. “You complete me” is cheesy, sure, but it works because it’s vulnerable and real.

The same goes for leadership. The best leaders know when to stop hiding behind strategy and speak from the gut. They know when the room doesn’t need a plan but a point. They know how to create a moment.

We remember Harry’s New Year’s Eve confession because it was messy, direct, and honest. And that’s what sticks. Whether you’re pitching an idea or navigating a turning point, it’s not always about perfection. It’s about presence.

Takeaway: Influence isn’t just about having the right data. It’s about knowing when to look someone in the eye and say something they’ll never forget.

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Emotional Intelligence = Main Character Energy

“I’m just a girl, standing in front of a boy…” — Notting Hill

Rom-com leads are flawed but emotionally fluent. They feel things, name things, and sense things. They read the subtext. They don’t just react; they respond.

Andie Anderson in How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, who starts off playing a game and ends up learning how to actually see someone, and let herself be seen. It’s that shift from manipulation to vulnerability that changes the story.

It’s the same in leadership. Strategy without self-awareness is chaos. Knowing how to read a room, hold silence, or check your own ego? That’s what makes people want to follow you, even when things get messy.

Takeaway: Emotional fluency is the real power move. The best leaders, like the best romantic leads, know how to feel the moment without letting it derail the mission.

Conflict Isn’t Failure. It’s the Arc.

“I wanted it to be you. I wanted it to be you so badly.” — You’ve Got Mail

You’ve Got Mail is literally about business conflict. A corporate chain is crushing Kathleen Kelly’s family-run children’s bookstore. Joe Fox is her rival and, eventually, her love interest. The entire plot is about two people with opposing visions, who learn to see past their egos, admit their blind spots, and build trust in the middle of the mess.

Leadership is like that. You can’t avoid tension. You navigate it. You move through it without burning everything down. And, ideally, you do it with grace (and maybe just a little well-timed banter).

Great leaders don’t frame conflict as a problem; they see it as part of the story arc. The turning point. The thing that gives the resolution meaning.

Takeaway: If you want a clean story, skip leadership. But if you want growth? Get comfortable with the tension.

Reinvention Is the Plot Twist

“What, like it’s hard?” — Legally Blonde

Every great rom-com protagonist breaks before they rise. Elle Woods gets dumped on a lawn in Beverly Hills. Jenna Rink wakes up in a 30-year-old body she doesn’t recognize. Bridget Jones spirals, over and over again. And yet, they all find their way forward. They evolve. Not by becoming someone new, but by returning to themselves more clearly.

Leadership requires reinvention. Sometimes you outgrow a season. Sometimes you realize you were playing by someone else’s rules. Sometimes the plan doesn’t just stall; it combusts. And then? You rebuild.

The montage is always coming.

Takeaway: The real power is in the pivot. You don’t lose credibility by changing; you earn it by being honest about why you had to.

Soft Power Is Still Power

“You’re supposed to be the leading lady of your own life, for God’s sake!” — The Holiday

Rom-com leads don’t succeed because they’re the loudest in the room. They succeed because they connect. They listen. They care.

Just look at Iris in The Holiday. She’s not bold or brash but she’s brave. Brave enough to change her life, set boundaries, and finally choose herself. She wins not by dominating, but by healing. By being kind, resilient, and emotionally present. That’s soft power.

Sally Albright isn’t a disruptor; she’s consistent, self-assured, and quietly brilliant. Lucy from While You Were Sleeping doesn’t demand attention—she builds trust one moment at a time. These aren’t loud leaders. But they lead.

You don’t need to dominate a room to command respect. Soft power is still power. Presence. Empathy. The ability to create belonging without performance. These are traits that build teams, communities, and trust.

Takeaway: Leadership doesn’t always look like the alpha. Sometimes, it looks like kindness that knows its worth.

Rom-coms didn’t just teach us about love. They taught us about vision. Listening. Timing. Clarity. Growth. How to walk into a room and own it while leaving space for someone else to belong there too. How to revise a story mid-scene. How to say the thing. How to apologize when we get it wrong. How to know the difference between who we thought we were… and who we’re ready to become.

Turns out, the entire genre is one long leadership arc. We just didn’t recognize it at the time. But now? I’m watching it all differently.

And I’m leading that way too.

What’s a rom-com moment you’ve never forgotten—because it quietly taught you something real about leadership, vision, or showing up for yourself? I’d love to hear it.

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Where We Can Build Together

1. Narrative Strategy & Consulting
   I help brands, creatives, and founders clarify their voice, articulate their story, and build lasting resonance. Whether you're navigating a creative pivot, refining your positioning, or translating vision into language, I bring structure to what you feel but haven’t yet said.

2. Creative Direction & Filmmaking
   I direct emotionally intelligent, visually grounded stories that move with mood and meaning. My work lives in the tension between longing and becoming—built for brands, campaigns, and cultural projects that value nuance, depth, and cinematic soul.

WORK WITH ME →

If you like this, you’ll love what’s next.

If you’re new—hi, I’m Ghazal. Filmmaker, narrative strategist, and story architect. Creative by nature, strategic by design. I write about storytelling, creative pivots, and personal reinvention for the ones rewriting their story in real time. If that’s you, you’re in the right place.

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Listen to my playlists on Spotify

That’s what Off The Record is for.

This new column is my monthly check-in. Part behind-the-scenes, part personal dispatch: what I’m watching, working on, revising, shedding.

Not always polished, but always honest.

The past month moved in chapters. I spent time in Montreal, Toronto, and LA, each city giving me something I didn’t know I needed. The East Coast brought a lot of slow moments and a lot of work. Attended Futurist and Consensus, where I filled my brain with big ideas. At client events, I watched ideas (and community) take shape. And in between, I reunited with family, spent slow days with my best friend of over a decade, and gave myself the kind of rest that actually resets something.

Then LA: fast, full, expansive. Capital G Media was a sponsor for Film Independent’s AAPI History Month reception, a great honour and so much fun. I had meetings that moved the needle, caught up with friends who reminded me why I started, and let myself feel the tension of being in between what was and what’s next.

This first edition is full of things in motion: stories I’m living, tools I’m using, and what I’m shedding as I grow. Thanks for being in it with me.

Let’s get into it.

— G

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In Production

Real-time updates from the messy middle of the work.

Rejection Game: The last few months have been rejection season. So far, I’ve applied to 9 labs, programs, and initiatives this year and gotten 9 no’s. And honestly? It’s fine. Rejection is just another step. Another swing. Another sign that I’m still in the game.

Challenge: I’ve also been challenging myself to write for 30 minutes a day. Script pages, Substack drafts, Instagram captions, that someday book—it all counts. No pressure to be brilliant. Just consistent. The goal: build muscle, not magic.

A Win: I finally wrapped up the full rebrand and relaunch of my personal website.
It now reflects the world I’ve been building: filmmaker, strategist, creative architect. It finally feels like me. Only took me five months to get here… let me know what you think!

Scene Stealers

What’s been inspiring me lately: big feelings, sharp observations, and culture that cuts through.

• Nonna’s (Netflix) pulled on all the heartstrings. I smiled, cried, laughed, and I love that a true story inspired it.

• Paris by New West My morning playlist’s emotional backbone. Romantic, vibey, exactly the lead-in my brain needs to function. Listen to the playlist: mornings, romanticized.

• I’m just finished the last episode of The Studio (Apple TV); highly relatable in the most hilarious and unhinged (sometimes triggering) way.

• Carême (Apple TV) has become an unhealthy obsession. Food, espionage, lust, period piece… all in French? Oui, oui.

• Also spiralling into Thank You, Next (Netflix) (yes, I’m in my Turkish Romance era), The Last of Us (HBO/Crave), and The Handmaid’s Tale(HBO/Crave). My screen time is... robust.

• This episode with Emma Grede on Diary of a CEO was a full masterclass. 10/10.

• This badmouthing post? Unhinged, in the best way. A perfect takedown of branding people’s trauma and monetizing every vulnerable moment. I laughed, nodded, and immediately sent it to five people.

Director’s Note

A personal shift, perspective, or quiet realization.

This month, I’ve been unlearning a specific kind of waiting. The kind where you’re already doing the work but still waiting for permission to fully believe in yourself.

That’s impostor syndrome in disguise. It’s not always loud. Sometimes it shows up as hesitating before naming your rate, holding back in a pitch, or editing the boldness out of your own voice.

I’m done with that version of me. This month’s revision? I’m shedding the part of me that asks to be chosen before I show up like I’ve already arrived.

Props Table

Tools, objects, and rituals I’m loving right now:

• Manus AI. I’ve been building marketing strategies for our projects at Capital G, and this tool has been incredible for surfacing audience data and trends that actually help us position the work.

• New Zealand Manuka Honey. I was recently gifted this honey, and I’m… obsessed. It’s life-changing, sensory, and officially the start of my Honey Era™.

• Clarins Paris Cryo-Flash Cream-Mask. Basically a 10-minute facial that makes me feel like I slept eight hours and made a boundary. Cold, tight, perfect.

• Vetiver Extraordinaire by Dominique Ropion. I rotate through scents constantly, but this one is my current go-to. I love anything vetiver—sharp, clean, grounded. This one wears like confidence in lowercase. (Hack: I can’t justify spending the money to get the big ones, so I get the travel-size one, and it lasts just as long.)

• SodaStream. I know, I know… not new. But I finally started using it properly, and I’m smitten. Suddenly, I’m a sparkling water sommelier.

• Disney’s Hercules (PS1). This Hercules game I used to play constantly as a kid in the '90s (yes, I’m ancient), and I recently found it online. It’s now my favourite way to waste time. I’m a mature, upstanding adult.

• Kyandoru Meiso Meditation Candle. A Japanese candle made for meditation — it burns low, smells like calm, and looks like it belongs in a scene directed by Wong Kar-wai. Instant mood reset.

In the Frame

A snapshot from the month — work, life, or somewhere in between.

Capital G Media was proud to be a sponsor for Film Independent’s AAPI History Month celebration this month. It was such a joy to support work that’s shifting culture and championing stories that matter. To be in that room, as a creator, not just a guest and sponsor, felt like a quiet affirmation in a season full of “wait your turn.”

Sometimes presence is the breakthrough.

Quote of The Month:

“You don’t need a greenlight to begin. You just need to start.”

(A recent note I wrote to myself while staring at a blinking cursor for 25 minutes.)

What’s Next

• If you follow me on Instagram, you already know: I’m a diehard Vancouver Whitecaps fan. The CONCACAF final is tomorrow, and I’m rooting so hard for our boys.

• I’m launching a new Substack column called Dear Creative: it’s for the multi-hyphenates, the artists building their own systems: tools, resources, framework drops. You’ll see the first issue soon.

• Summer is… up in the air. I’m manifesting garden dinners, weekend getaways, and momentum on my debut feature. More on that soon.

• I’m hoping to work more on my sleep schedule. It’s been a mess the past few months, so I’m making a concious effort to try and fix it… I’ll let you know how that goes.

What are you revising this month? What are you looking forward to? Hit reply, leave a comment, send me a DM; I’d love to hear what you’re building or letting go of.

Where You Can Follow the Journey

Off The Record is where I share what I’m making, watching, and reworking— a quiet log of the real-time process. If you want to see the story unfold from the inside, I share it here first.

For more day to day action:
→ Instagram
→ LinkedIn
→ Website

Tip for June: Go be a little dramatic. It’s good for the plot.

Until next month, stay hydrated, stay romantic, stay delulu (in the best way).

Not in collapse but in freeze.

I suppose this is the beginning of a thaw.

Lately, I’ve found myself frozen in that quiet, half-scrolling, half-listening, half-feeling kind of way. Watching the world unravel through headlines I don’t know how to hold. Opening Instagram, closing it. Reading a news notification, then responding with a meme. Not because it was funny, but because humour has become our emotional scaffolding. We’ve developed a strange fluency in processing tragedy through jokes, as if making light of the darkness might make it a little less heavy.

There’s something strange happening.

Between doom-scrolling and forced optimism, we’ve lost our middle ground. Our emotional responses swing between flippancy and despair, between “Everything is fine” and “Everything is broken,” with very little space to sit with what’s actually true.

The world is in loud chaos right now, and many of us have gone silent in response. Not because we don’t care, but because we’re buffering. Performing composure while quietly holding on to overwhelm. Not disengaged, but disoriented. Present, but not fully available. It’s a coping strategy. It’s survival. It’s a nervous system trying to make sense of too much.

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Every morning brings news that feels both entirely expected and unthinkable. Unprecedented times has lost its meaning, and yet somehow, each day still manages to feel heavier than the last. We’re over-informed. Under-resourced. Trying to process global grief at the same time we’re trying to make a living, build something meaningful, and be emotionally available in our relationships.

It’s a lot. And it’s happening all the time.

We are the most connected generation in history, and many of us have never felt more alone. Our identities fracture across platforms: professional on LinkedIn, creative on Instagram, witty on Twitter, soft on Close Friends. We message more but talk less. We perform presence while feeling untethered.

So where’s the solid ground? Where do we root when our sense of self is scattered across many stages?

Lately, I’ve been returning to what I call meaningful insignificance—the acts that feel too small to matter and yet somehow, they do. Writing a letter to a friend. Reading poetry when the headlines scream. Planting herbs in a tiny windowsill garden while the world burns.

These aren’t distractions. They’re anchors.

They tether us to ourselves when the news cycle pulls us under. They aren’t solutions—but they’re refusals. Tiny, beautiful refusals to give up on beauty, nuance, or meaning.

As a filmmaker and storyteller, I’ve always believed that stories help us survive chaos. They are how we metabolize what feels impossible to carry. And yes—our memes are stories too. Our jokes, our texts that say “I see you,” our dancing-in-the-kitchen moments. These are survival narratives. These are proof that we haven’t numbed out completely. The world feels unsteady because it is unsteady. Institutions are glitching, systems are crumbling, and the consequences of generations ripple through us now. It would be dishonest to pretend otherwise.

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But in the space between denial and despair, there is a third option: present hope.

Not the sanitized, Pinterest-quote kind.

The kind that exists in tension. The kind that says: yes, things are breaking—and yes, we still get to build. Yes, it’s exhausting—and yes, we still get to care. Yes, we’re grieving—and yes, we still get to make something beautiful here.

We often confuse resilience with hardening. But I think true resilience is softness that doesn’t collapse. Presence that doesn’t flinch. It’s the ability to stay emotionally available while the world pushes us to shut down.

Maybe real progress doesn’t look like hustle or momentum.

Maybe it looks like a garden: seasonal, sacred, requiring rest as much as bloom.

Hope isn’t a feeling. It’s a discipline. A creative practice. Something we choose in the middle of heartbreak, not in spite of it, but because of it.

And yes, some days, that hope feels impossibly small. But small doesn’t mean insignificant.

I’ve been learning this quietly: through conversations with friends that felt like exhale, community messages filled with softness, and watching people show up for each other without performance or applause.

This is what Adrienne Maree Brown calls emergent strategy: the way small acts combine to create systems—the way tenderness scales when we stay with it consistently.

So, no, hope doesn’t mean pretending things aren’t broken. It means refusing to break with them. It means staying open to what could grow in their place.

As Audre Lorde reminds us:

“The sharing of joy… forms a bridge between the sharers which can be the basis for understanding much of what is not shared between them.”

That’s why joy matters now. It’s not the escape. It’s the bridge.

If you’ve been frozen, me too. But you’re not broken. You’re buffering. You’re still here. And that matters more than you think.

The world feels unsteady. But our capacity for connection, creativity, and care hasn’t gone anywhere. And that is something to stand on.

Where We Can Build Together

1. Narrative Strategy & Consulting
   I help brands, creatives, and founders clarify their voice, articulate their story, and build lasting resonance. Whether you're navigating a creative pivot, refining your positioning, or translating vision into language, I bring structure to what you feel but haven’t yet said.

2. Creative Direction & Filmmaking
   I direct emotionally intelligent, visually grounded stories that move with mood and meaning. My work lives in the tension between longing and becoming—built for brands, campaigns, and cultural projects that value nuance, depth, and cinematic soul.

WORK WITH ME →

If you like this, you’ll love what’s next.

If you’re new—hi, I’m Ghazal. Filmmaker, creative strategist, and story architect. Creative by nature, strategic by design. I write about storytelling, creative pivots, and personal reinvention for the ones rewriting their story in real time. If that’s you, you’re in the right place.

Subscribe now

Follow me on Instagram
Connect with me on LinkedIn
Listen to my playlists on Spotify

I've spent more hours than I'd like to admit, Googling things like "how to stop procrastinating" or "ways to trick yourself into focusing." At this point, productivity hacks are a love language I'm desperately trying to become fluent in.

But here's the thing about focus: when you think you've figured it out, it slips away like trying to hold onto water.

You create the perfect morning routine, set up the ideal workspace, download all the right apps... and still end up doom-scrolling through TikTok at 3 PM when you should be working on that project due tomorrow.

And then, almost accidentally, I stumbled onto something that didn't just help me focus—it made me feel less alone. Two concepts that seemed to appear in my life right when I needed them most were parallel play and body doubling. One is rooted in childhood psychology, the other a beloved ADHD hack, and together, they've quietly revolutionized how I approach creative work and revisions—and how I think about friendship itself.

Before we dive into the science-y bits, let me tell you about my favourite way to spend time with friends these days: the errand date.

You need to pick up storage bins at IKEA? I'm there. Have to grab groceries at Costco? Count me in. I'll gladly tag along while you return that lamp you swore was the perfect shade of gold but is now haunting you from the corner of your room. In fact, I'd even be happy sitting on your floor while you clean out your closet, sorting clothes into "keep" and "donate" piles.

These aren't just tasks to check off a list; they're opportunities for connection that feel more authentic than any carefully planned happy hour.

There's something about the simple act of existing alongside someone.

At the same time, they go about their daily life that creates a kind of intimacy you can't manufacture over small talk and overpriced cocktails.

This is where parallel play comes in—a concept borrowed from child development that's surprisingly perfect for adult friendship. Think about kids playing side by side in a sandbox, each building their castles but somehow still connected. For adults, it looks more like:

• Reading separate books on the same couch, each lost in your world but somehow more anchored by the other's presence.

• Working on different laptops at the same café, the quiet tapping of keys creates a symphony of shared focus.

• Journaling while your friend sketches, both creating but neither performing.

At its heart, parallel play is about the quiet magic of being alone together. No pressure to maintain a conversation. No need to be "on." Just the comfort of shared space and silent understanding.

The secret sauce of parallel play is that it respects two fundamental human needs: independence and connection.

Psychologists say it reduces attachment anxiety and builds trust because it shows you don't need constant interaction to feel close.

This can be a game-changer for neurodivergent folks or anyone who finds traditional socializing draining. It's intimacy without the noise, connection without the performance.

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But here's where it gets really interesting: parallel play isn't just good for relationships; it's become a quiet hero for creative work. There's something about sitting next to someone, both of you lost in your worlds that makes your world feel a little less heavy.

Suddenly, the solitary act of revising a draft or tackling your to-do list feels less lonely.

If parallel play is the introvert-friendly party, body doubling is the productivity drill sergeant who shows up to make sure you're actually getting things done.

Popular in ADHD circles, it's the practice of working alongside someone—physically or virtually—to help you stay on task. Your "double" isn't there to micromanage; their mere presence is an anchor.

Think about it:

• Joining a virtual coworking session where strangers become accountability partners

• Having a friend sit with you while you finally tackle that mountain of laundry. (I do this on Facetime with friends all the time.)

• Meeting up at a café, each working on separate projects but drawing energy from the shared focus.

For me, body doubling is most potent during what I call the "dreaded starting phase,” when opening the document or picking up the pen feels like lifting a thousand pounds.

It's like having someone silently cheer you on just by being there.

When I think about parallel play, body doubling, and errand dates, I realize they're all part of the same quiet revolution: stripping away the need to perform, reminding us we're not alone, and giving us space just to be.

This is especially true in creative work. Writing drafts, editing footage, or facing the chaos of a blank page doesn't have to happen in isolation. Whether sitting in a room with a fellow writer, silently brainstorming, or having someone nearby while you slog through edits, shared energy can carry you through the most challenging parts of the process.

And let's not forget the low-key charm of an errand date. Just like parallel play, it's a reminder that connection doesn't have to come with bells and whistles. It's not about the fancy dinner or the curated experience; it's about showing up, side by side, for the messy, mundane parts of life.

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If you're curious to try this approach (or want an excuse to turn errands into hangouts), here's how to start:

For Parallel Play:

• Create cozy spaces that encourage multiple activities—shared couches, communal desks, and a blanket fort (cause, why not?)

• Invite a friend to "be alone together.”

• Start with low-pressure activities like reading, sketching, or journaling side-by-side.

For Body Doubling:

• Explore virtual platforms for structured coworking sessions.

• Set clear boundaries with your double (e.g., no chatting during work time.)

• Use body doubling for tasks you typically procrastinate on—emails, edits, taxes.

For Errand Dates:

• Next time a friend says, "I have so much to do," say, "Let's do it together.”

• Turn grocery runs, IKEA trips, or cleaning sessions into low-pressure hangouts.

• Remember: errands aren't what you do before hanging out; they are the hangout.

Here's the thing: modern life is noisy.

We're constantly told to do more, be more, connect more.

But parallel play, body doubling, and errand dates challenge that narrative. They show us that sometimes the most profound connection comes from just being there: no pressure, no fanfare, no overthinking.

For those of us deep in the creative trenches, these practices offer a gentle, grounded way to move forward. They remind us that the process doesn't have to be lonely or overwhelming.

Sometimes, all it takes is a shared space, a quiet presence, and the courage to begin.

And if you ever need someone to wander the aisles of Costco with you or help Marie Kondo your closet, well... you know where to find me.

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It's become the reflexive response to any display of skill or creativity, as automatic as saying "bless you" after a sneeze. When did we decide that every talent needs to be transformed into a revenue stream? Does every moment of joy need to be optimized for profit?

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Here's something most people don't know about me: I'm an art school dropout.

Not because I wasn't good enough or couldn't handle the workload but because I wanted to chase other dreams. It was my first significant life revision - a plot twist that reshaped how I saw creativity. Over the years, I've managed to monetize my art in various ways—writing, painting, gallery shows in Vancouver and London, large commissions, and even collaborations with big-name brands like Bailey Nelson and Bearface Whiskey. From the outside, it probably looked like I was living the dream and making money from my passion, unleashing my creativity while paying rent! The holy grail of millennial career achievement, right?

When did we decide that every talent needs to be transformed into a revenue stream? Does every moment of joy need to be optimized for profit?

But something happened around my fifth collection. The shift was initially subtle, then glaringly obvious: I stopped expressing myself and started calculating. Every brushstroke became a question of marketability. Every colour choice was filtered through the lens of what would sell. The joy of creation morphed into the anxiety of production. Gradually, my relationship with art began to sour. I started to resent the very thing I had always loved.

So I walked away, not from art itself; I loved it too much for that but from the pressure to make it profitable. I promised myself that while I still monetized some creative work, like filmmaking and writing, my physical art would be purely for myself and those I love (for the most part, I take on the random commission if it feels right.) The moment I made that decision, it felt like putting down a heavy backpack I hadn't even realized I was carrying.

Fast-forward a few years, and I discovered miniatures. There was something magical about how everyday objects could be transformed with a shift in perspective. A bottle cap isn't just trash; it's a perfectly sized bar stool waiting to happen. A popsicle stick contains multitudes: floorboards, window frames, and shelves. Miniatures became my secret meditation, a private joy I kept to myself until the creations became too delightful not to share with friends.

Social media has transformed 'doing what you love' from a privilege into a pressure, from an aspiration into an obligation.

Like clockwork, the questions and suggestions flowed: "How do you even do this?" "Where do you find the time?" And inevitably, always: "You could make serious money selling these."

That last comment kept nagging at me, (I initially had those thoughts as well), and it opened my eyes to something broader: we're living in an era where our relationship with creativity and joy is conditional. It's not enough to be good at something—you need to be monetizing it. It's not enough to enjoy a hobby—you need to be building a brand around it. Your workout routine needs to be a coaching program; your outfit photos should be a styling service; your morning routine must become a masterclass and your travel photos? Those better be monetized as custom itineraries.

This mindset runs deeper than career advice or entrepreneurship, it's rewired how we think about value. We've internalized the idea that worth is measured in dollars, that time is wasted if it doesn't generate income, and that talents are squandered if they're not profitable. This mindset has created a generation of people who feel guilty for having hobbies that don't generate a side income and who feel “wasting" their skills if they don't turn them into a business.

Not everything we love needs to become a side hustle. Not every passion needs to be profitable.

But here's what that mindset costs us: the pure, uncomplicated joy of creating without consequence, the freedom to experiment, to fail, to make something absolutely hideous just because we want to, and the ability to love something without needing it to love us back in the form of dollar signs.

There's a special kind of peace in making something, knowing it will never be for sale. In my case, it's building tiny worlds that exist purely because I wanted them to exist. My miniature creations—with their bottle-cap bar stools and popsicle-stick floorboards—live on my desk, my shelves and my friends' coffee tables. They're gifts given freely, made with no purpose beyond the joy of making them. And maybe that's enough. Perhaps that's more than enough.

Not everything we love needs to become a side hustle. Not every passion needs to be profitable. Sometimes, the most valuable things we create are the ones we never put a price tag on.

And in a world obsessed with monetizing every moment, that might be the most revolutionary act of all.

I've been sitting on this draft for months, watching it gather digital dust while I tell myself I need "just a bit more research" or "the timing isn't quite right." But here's the truth: I've been consuming so much content about creating content that I've paralyzed my own ability to create.

"Kill your darlings" is the advice that gets passed around writing workshops like a worn leather-bound notebook. Attributed to William Faulkner, it suggests eliminating the elements of your work you're most precious about if they don't serve the greater good. But what happens when your biggest darling isn't a perfectly crafted sentence? What if it's the perfectionism that's keeping you from creating at all?

The science backs up what many of us feel in our creative lives. Recent research published in the Journal of Research in Personality reveals that maladaptive perfectionism increases creative paralysis by 47%², with self-doubt serving as the strongest mediating factor between perfectionism and decreased creative output. We're not just struggling with editing – we're struggling to begin.

This paralysis is happening against a backdrop of unprecedented digital consumption. Pew Research shows 46% of adults report being "almost constantly" online³, creating a paralyzing paradox: we're the most informed generation in history, yet somehow also the most hesitant to add our voice to the conversation. Content consumption rates have increased by 57% since 2018, while only 23% of users report regularly creating original content³. We're drowning in inspiration but starving for output.

I recognize this pattern in myself. I have the confidence. I can command attention when I need to. In my professional life, I handle feedback like a champion because it serves the bottom line. I'm there to do a job. But when it comes to personal projects? That's where the paralysis sets in.

Studies in creative self-efficacy have found that higher engagement with social media significantly correlates with increased creative self-doubt⁴. A finding that hits close to home. Each perfectly crafted thread, each viral post, and each seemingly effortless success story becomes another brick in the wall between us and our creative potential. We're not just observers; we're becoming our own obstacles.

The most insidious part? Research from Harvard Business Review reveals that perfectionists spend 30% more time on tasks than non-perfectionists, and perfectionism rates have increased by 33% since 2000⁵. The same study found that social media exposure significantly increases perfectionist tendencies⁵ – we're quite literally scrolling ourselves into paralysis. I see this reflected in my own behaviour: endless research loops, constant consumption, and analysis instead of action.

I've realized that we're not just afraid of judgment but of being late to the conversation. In a world where everything feels like it's already been said, we're terrified of being redundant. But here's the critical thing we're missing: your perspective isn't redundant just because the topic isn't novel.

Take this Substack, for example. I had such grand plans. I would hold myself accountable, post regularly, and build something meaningful for myself. Instead, I found myself in an endless research loop, consuming rather than creating, analyzing rather than acting. I've read so many posts about how to write posts that I've forgotten the simple act of just... writing.

But here's what I'm learning and what the research supports: creativity isn't about being first; it's about being authentic. (I know, it’s a yucky word these days.) The same studies that identified the paralysis of perfectionism also found that the most innovative work often comes from people willing to build upon, remix, and reinterpret existing ideas rather than trying to create something entirely new².

Consider the current state of online discourse. We're so busy analyzing, critiquing, and meta-analyzing that we've forgotten the joy of simply making things. We've become a generation of commentators rather than creators, stuck in an infinite loop of consumption and critique.

The solution isn't to disconnect entirely; that's neither practical nor necessary. Instead, we need to recognize when consumption becomes avoidance, research becomes resistance, and scrolling becomes hiding.

So here I am, finally doing the thing I've been avoiding. Is it perfect? No. Is it entirely original? Probably not. But it's authentic, it's mine, and most importantly, it's done.

Consider this my public execution of not just perfectionism but of the belief that everything worth saying has already been said. My fear of being seen and my addiction to endless consumption are officially on the chopping block. Because at some point, you have to stop planning to write and just write. Stop waiting for the perfect moment and make this moment perfect enough. Stop protecting your darlings, whether they're precious words or precious excuses and start setting them free.

Even if it means starting with a post about why you couldn't start at all.

The internet will still be there tomorrow, with all its hot takes and thread-form think pieces. But maybe, just maybe, it's time we spent less time consuming other people's darlings and more time creating and, yes, sometimes killing our own.

Sources:

1. "Screen Time Statistics 2024: Your Phone and Computer Use" - Exploding Topics

2. "Perfectionism and creativity: The mediating role of self-doubt and procrastination" - Journal of Research in Personality

3. "Social Media Use in 2023" - Pew Research Center

4. "The Role of Perfectionism in Creative Self-Efficacy and Creative Performance" - Psychology of Aesthetics, Creativity, and the Arts

5. "The Price of Perfectionism" - Harvard Business Review

Thanks for reading! If this resonated with you, consider subscribing for more conversations about creativity, digital culture, and the art of getting out of your own way in an endlessly online world.

"You need to focus on one thing to be successful." Like red marks on a manuscript, this critique has followed me throughout my career. But just as every story needs multiple drafts to reach its full potential, I've learned that our lives benefit from continuous revision. My journey has wandered through fashion, hospitality, business, and retail, each chapter adding new dimensions to my narrative. These weren't false starts or abandoned drafts but essential revisions that shaped my unique voice.

Look at Leonardo da Vinci, who refused to choose between being an inventor or an artist. Think about Brian Eno, who flowed from musician to visual artist to startup advisor—or Ava DuVernay, who rewrote her story from publicity expert to groundbreaking filmmaker. Like them, I've discovered that embracing multiple passions isn't a weakness; it's a form of alchemy where each new skill and experience enriches everything else I do.

What excites me is the blank slate. Whether it's a startup seeking its voice, an event waiting to be brought to life, or a film story yearning to be told. I see possibilities in their purest form, and I love being able to both dream big and dive deep into the details needed to make it real. It's this ability to hold both the vision and the execution that makes each project come alive.

People often truncate the phrase "jack of all trades, master of none," missing its complete wisdom: "A jack of all trades is a master of none, but oftentimes better than a master of one." This centuries-old insight resonates more than ever in today's world of constant revision and reinvention. Success isn't about perfecting a single draft; it's about being willing to revise, adapt, and weave different skills into a compelling narrative.

As a director and producer, I craft worlds that transport audiences. As an advisor and strategist, I help businesses and brands find their narrative voice. These roles aren't competing storylines but interweaving plots that enrich each other. The strategic thinking required to guide a startup informs how I structure a film's story. The creativity needed for directing enhances how I approach business challenges.

My definition of success isn't a linear plot but a story told in multiple genres. I've learned to reject the traditional outline of achievement we're expected to follow: the conventional career ladder, the single focus, the predictable arc. Instead, I've written a life on my own terms, where success is measured by the diversity of chapters I collect, the stories I tell, and the impact I create across different narratives.

That young journalist in the TV studio may not have become Christiane Amanpour, but she discovered something more valuable – the power of embracing life's constant revisions. Today, I find myself as an editor of sorts, building bridges between worlds that others see as separate: business and creativity, strategy and storytelling, vision and execution.

Some might say I wear too many hats: producer, director, advisor, entrepreneur. But I've learned that embracing these multiple drafts, rather than forcing myself to stick to one version, has been key to creating work that resonates deeply. Each role adds depth to the others, creating a narrative richness that makes me better at everything I do.

In a world that increasingly demands innovation and cross-disciplinary thinking, our willingness to revise and blend different skills isn't just an advantage; it's essential. When someone tells me to focus on one thing, I smile. I've learned that my ability to see connections where others see divisions, blend strategy with creativity, and be both dreamer and doer, that’s my focus. And like any good revision, it gets sharper with each iteration.

That thirteen-year-old in the TV studio was unknowingly writing the first draft of a career that would defy traditional boundaries. Today, I continue to revise and refine one story, one project, and one vision at a time. 

So go ahead, tell me to focus on one thing. I'll show you how embracing life's constant revisions can create something extraordinary.

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I was sixteen when this episode of Keeping Up aired. Sixteen years later, I’m still using the phrase. At first, it was a small and funny joke to bring up occasionally, but now it’s become a daily affirmation that I tell myself every morning.

Feeling amazing or finding peace can be hard when your world, and quite frankly, the world itself, is chaotic. In my corner of the world: the film industry in the US is at a standstill due to the writers and actors striking against the AMPTP (Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers); business has slowed down for myself and my colleagues, and the news is overloaded with our world facing a pivotal moment of finding a path of living amongst inflation, political unbalances and injustices; the uncertainty is too much.

Right now, most people I know have no idea what to do with themselves. They’re pivoting their businesses, switching careers or simply in the “wait” period of their careers. (See last week’s article.) 

I have felt so much anxiety over the past few weeks, and at the same time, I feel so much pride in the progress I’ve made so far.

How can I feel such conflicting things at once at all times? 

I’m in a huge transition period in every aspect of my life, and it’s exhausting. Our bodies anticipate change. I feel like I’m sitting at the top of a rollercoaster, waiting for it to drop. Learning to process all the feelings at once, still maintain my workload, attempt to have a fun summer and pile on all the other things to come with being a “functioning” adult— it's scary to sit with when you can’t pinpoint the triggers that cause uneasiness.

It’s not easy, but I am trying to make it easier.

How do we filter out the noise?

Let’s look at the narrative you’ve been telling yourself. Acceptance and a deep understanding enable us to be okay with what is happening, no matter the circumstances.

Write out your current story of yourself. Think about the good, the bad and the ugly. Once you’ve written it out, go through and look at each item. What are you proud of? What do you need to let go?

Once you’ve done this exercise, write out the version of yourself that is the ideal version. Now compare this story from the past version to the future self and consider how your present self can start bridging the gaps.

Make small changes to manage discomfort.

For example, my ideal version of myself starts every day with a walk. It’s her time to gather her thoughts for the day, listen to podcasts and set herself up for her day. I try to go for a walk every day, but I’m a terrible morning person. So, even though I go for a walk every day, I’m trying to bring it up earlier in my day, but I’m still working on that sleep schedule.

Re-frame the negativity.

You are who you surround yourself with, including yourself. One of the things I’ve known for a while but have only recently accepted is that staying in the negative is my comfort zone. It’s easier to find the bad in things than the good. An active thing I try to implement is to let myself feel the negative, understand where it’s coming from but still come out of it positively. I’m analytical, so this helps.

Something I used to do with a friend, which I’ve started doing again in the past few days, is ending the day with three good things that happened that day, even if it’s something as simple as my skincare routine was on point today.

When you’re around other people who are constantly in a negative mindset, it can impact you profoundly, whether you realize it or not. Misery does love company, but with that being said, finding individuals in your life who can lift you instead of bring you down is essential, even if that means stepping away from people and taking up your energy.

Boundaries are sexy, even though they’re terrifying to implement.

I turned down invites for a weekend alone because I needed to be alone. I wanted to be a burrito in bed, read my books, catch up on episodes of Grey’s Anatomy, and go for a walk. The last two days have been magical though they’ve been uneventful.

As creatives, we place an insurmountable amount of pressure on ourselves. We constantly evolve, develop our skill sets, and strive to reach the next milestone. Take a deep breath, and give yourself a break.

Oh, and in case no one has said this to you today: you’re doing amazing, sweetie.

The Success Myth: Letting Go of Having it All by Emma Gannon (She also has a great Substack called The Hyphen.)

The Perfectionist’s Guide to Losing Control: A Path to Peace and Power by Katherine Morgan Schafler

The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho

Mel Robbins ON: Letting Go of Negative Thoughts & Redirecting Your Energy to Self Transformation 
Listen on Apple Podcasts | Spotify 

Eckhart Tolle on Finding Peace; Accepting What Is 
Listen on Apple Podcasts | Spotify 

Lewis Howes on The SECRET to Finding Your Purpose 
Listen on Apple Podcasts | Spotify 

Alison Ledgerwood on Getting Stuck in the Negatives (and How to get unstuck.)

A Morning Meditation: This Is The Day Your Life Begins by Brianna Wiest

Jeremie Kubicek on Finding Peace (The Peace Index)

Know someone who’d benefit from this article? Don’t keep it to yourself!

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Lately, everything has felt like a hamster wheel with no specific outcome or patterns to follow. "Hurry up and wait" is a phrase used to refer to a situation in which one is forced to hurry to complete a certain task or arrive at a certain destination by a specified time, only for nothing to happen at that time, often because other required tasks are still awaiting completion.

This is the cycle I’ve been in for the last few years, where the outcome of my career is completely out of my control and depends on the powers that be.

In the last few days, numerous friends have called me out to stop stressing and to chill out. I think at the core of it, it’s a form of burnout when you’ve been on a hamster wheel that doesn’t breed immediate results. How do you chill when you have no idea what each day looks like?

Cultivating resilience is the key to reaching your desired outcomes in any creative pursuit, but finding a way to do it without burning out is the challenge most of us face. Such is the life of being creative.

Resilience is not a trait but a skill that can be cultivated through intentional practices and mindset shifts. It empowers us to adapt, persevere, and embrace growth opportunities, even in adversity. Or when there’s absolutely nothing going on.

Think about the people in your life who you believe represent resilience. What’s one thing that they have in common? They know how to pivot.

You know I had to.

There’s a fearlessness that comes across in those who are adaptable. It’s not about having an obscene amount of positivity (we’re not about toxic positivity here) but knowing how to be grounded even when things seem grim. Resilient people look at things glass “half-full,” even in tough circumstances. Instead of viewing it as something happening to them or as a setback, they see it as happening for them and only as a temporary moment in the larger perspective of their journey. Uncertainty is embraced and viewed as an opportunity.

Something that I am still trying to grasp.

It goes back to last week’s article about comparing and getting to know yourself and your goals.

The key to the waiting period is to check in with yourself. Take the momentary delay or pause to reflect on what has been and what’s ahead. (A helpful self-reminder.)

For the week ahead, I want you to focus on these two practical things:

Prioritizing Doing Nothing

Find some time in your week to block out and do nothing.

We all need rest and quality sleep to maintain and optimize our well-being. When you get “bored,” you can find the mental space to think and be inspired again.

One of my favourite ways to get “bored” is lying down and playing Candy Crush. Before you call me a boomer, hear me out. For about 20 minutes a day, I’ll get on the app, and it’s usually while I’m mindlessly playing that I’ll usually think of something or be inspired by something I was originally stuck on. The game’s repetition and simplicity allow me to relax when I can’t sit in silence.

Audit The Last 6 Months

Block out an hour (or two), and instead of scrolling through TikTok, or watching Netflix, grab a notebook (or the notes app on your phone) and review the first half of your year.

• What are three good things happened to you in the last six months?

• What is something you are passionate about? Have you given yourself time to explore that passion in the last six months?

• What is one area of your life that you want to focus on improving in the next six months?

• Are you earning as much money as you would like to live the life you’d love?

• Are you overspending? If so, where can you make adjustments?

• Are you taking action to be the biggest, most successful, most impactful version of yourself you can be?

Taking time to see where you are, where you’ve been and where you’re headed makes the waiting period easier.

This week doesn’t have recommendations: now that you’ve read this newsletter (thank you), turn your phone off and touch grass or something.

It’s summer. Enjoy it.

See you next week.

Does this sound familiar? “A Jack of all of trades is a master of none.” The problem is, as with most things, it’s taken out of context. The original saying is longer: “A jack of all trades is a master of none, but oftentimes better than a master of one.”

It was always meant to be a positive statement.

If you want to stick to one lane, there’s nothing wrong with that. But, then again, this piece isn’t for you.

Many believe you must be one thing to find notoriety and success, but that isn’t very comforting for the majority. We’ve been trained to fit ourselves into boxes based on old societal rules that don’t work in today’s environment.

So we hide in the closet with the insatiable curiosity leveraged by our analytic and creative ambitions. We internalize the battle of what we know to be true about ourselves against the standards set by “society” and shrink ourselves down so as not to exist too much or be too much.

Growing up, we’ve been told if you work hard, focus on what you want to achieve, and spend 10,000 hours and then a decade of “paying your dues,” you will gain enough momentum to get the attention of others. Though I believe in active patience and spending 10,000 hours to hone in on your craft, if you have more than one thing you love, go for it. This fear of being judged or deemed “too ambitious” for wanting to do more than one thing polarized me. I spent years trying to fit myself into a box because I was doing “too much.”

I just wanted to fit in.

I always struggled with my identity because I kept being told that if I just “focused,” I would succeed. As a creative, focus is fundamental, but it doesn’t mean limiting yourself to one discipline or skill set. This isn’t about prescribing to hustle culture or multi-tasking, but in the past few years, we’ve been in overdrive due to the changing landscape of our world. And it’s exhausting trying to keep up. Being adaptable and flexible allows for pivoting to occur without fear. It doesn’t mean having forced positivity or pushing the fear aside. Instead, find a way to switch the fear into the passenger seat of your car, and you take the wheel.

The truth is, it’s because of the winding roads and the trials and tribulations of trying many things that I found success in my current chapter in life. Every experience led to gaining a new skill set, network, and expertise in helping me become a better-rounded individual in the next life stage that followed.

So, what’s your “niche”? What’s your “thing?”

The “niche” is you.

What is the common thread against everything that you do? What is your “WHY”? Your WHY is the drive or motivation behind WHAT you do and HOW you do it. To identify your own WHY and select an image that best represents it, it may be helpful to reflect on the following questions: What drives or motivates your life and work?

If you don’t know your WHY, I highly recommend this exercise.

For example, the common thread between my careers has been my ability to share stories and create experiences for audiences and consumers, regardless of the medium, with impact. The way I see it, my purpose is to help folks get out of their heads (and their way) to be present at the moment and experience what’s in front of them to reach their full potential.

Your work is the how.

What are your passions? Have you sat down to map out what you want to achieve? To be a successful multi-hyphenate, you must know where you’re going. Oprah, yes, Oprah, once said: “People get to where they want to go because they know where they want to go. Most people don’t know where they want to go.”

🤯

Let’s take a moment.

So you want to be a writer, director, painter, actor, or singer; what does each look like? What milestones will be vital in measuring your progress and growth?

It’s all about understanding purpose and direction.

Once you have the answer, it becomes easier to balance your multiple passions.

Understand your WHY and set up some milestones, then start. Don’t wait for the perfect time, because there isn’t one. Just do it and refine it over time. To eliminate the inevitable chaos, you need to learn to manage it.

Here are my favourite ways of managing my life as a multi-hyphenate:

• Do monthly, weekly, and daily priorities. Pick three. Three big things for the months, three for the week, and three for each day.

  • Example: For July, my three big things for the month are finishing my next feature script draft, setting up ten networking meetings, and assembling the team for my scripted podcast project. Each week, along with other work, I’ll create goals for the week that reflect my big three and then find a way to simplify them each day. So those ten networking meetings? I’ll aim to send 40 emails a week, which means at least 8 emails a day, to hopefully set up ten meetings by the end of the month.

• STOP comparing. I know this is impossible. It’s hard not to see everyone’s highlight reel online and compare your accomplishments against theirs. Instead of letting the green monster of jealousy kick in when you feel jealous, please take it as a signal that your body is telling you that you, too, want that. If you are going to compare, compare yourself to who you were yesterday, six months ago, or a year ago. Compete against yourself, not others, to become the best version possible. Easier said than done, I know. But it’s worth it.

• Give that evil voice in your head a name. We all have an “inner saboteur,” and the key to getting past self-doubt in being who you are is disassociating yourself from that person. So give it a name. You don’t have to tell anyone the name; pick one that you don’t like. Every time “Voldermort” says something negative to try and hold you back, respond with: “Shut up, Voldemort, no one asked you.”

• If you suck at keeping yourself accountable, get an accountability buddy.

  • Example: Right now, I’m working on a feature script, and my friend M has in his calendar to text me every two weeks to get a status update on how many pages I have done. This works because I’m a people pleaser and hate disappointing others.

• Don’t stress about having the perfect routine.

  • Every other video on my TikTok FYP is “This is the morning routine every successful creative needs….” No, thank you. Instead, find daily milestones.

  • Example: My main milestones are that I need 15 minutes of mindfulness, at least 5,000 steps, and writing three pages daily. Regardless of what time I do it, that works for me as long as I hit those goals. Some mornings, I want to sleep in; others, I wake up at 6 AM. What works for me is listening to my body and allowing myself not to push my body to extreme lengths if I have an “off day.” Even if I can only show up for 10% of the day, if I show up for that, then I’ve shown up to 100% of my capacity.

• Remember to have one creative hobby or skillset that isn’t for money.

  • As creatives, we like to get our hands dirty. It’s essential to have a creative outlet, whether it’s cooking, crocheting, or legos, that can allow you to get lost in your creativity without the pressures of deadlines or brand building.

  • Example: I love building miniatures. There’s no rhyme or reason, but when I have the time to dive in, I get lost for hours. Plus, it’s so cute!

Ultimately, I can give you every piece of advice in the book, but the truth is, the best person to listen to is yourself.

Listen to your gut, your body, and trust yourself.

“Wisdom is fungible. The more you have of it — regardless of where you got it — the more places you can apply it.” - Elysian

Being a multi-hyphenate allows you to have an enriched life on your terms. Don’t fight it; embrace it.

READ

• How to Be Everything: A Guide for Those Who (Still) Don't Know What They Want to Be When They Grow Up by Emilie Wapnick

• Bestselling Author David Epstein On Philosophy, Accepting Obstacles, and Why Generalists Triumph in a Specialized World

• The War of Art by Steven Pressfield

LISTEN

• Billy Porter: Leaning into Your Authenticity on “Dear Multi-Hyphenates”
  Listen on Apple Podcasts | Spotify

• Greta Gerwig: On Being A Multi-Hyphenate on “Ctrl Alt Delete”
  Listen on Apple Podcasts | Spotify

• Brendan Fallis On The Multi-Hyphenate Hustle on “Influencer Business”
  Listen on Apple Podcasts | Spotify

WATCH

• Issa Rae Shares Her Insight On What It Means To Be A Multi-Hyphenate & How She Navigates The Industry.

• The Futur answers: Can You Do It All & Be Successful?

• Nik Daum: Multi-hyphenate Nik Daum on Serendipity

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