The First Move

In May, I set a new intention. One clear goal. Gave myself six months to hit it.

Three months in, I realized I simply wasn’t going to make it. I would need to pivot.

By every conventional measure, that's a failure.

It would be just so easy, and familiar, to beat myself up with this let-down, to kick the self-doubt up a notch. Instead, I let myself embrace the unexpected.

That initial commitment? Well it happened to lead to a new discovery, which inspired me to make another small adjacent move. That next move led to another discovery and then another, which eventually led me here, writing to you, building this community, and having conversations with people I genuinely want to help.

Hindsight is 20/20, so let’s take advantage of the clarity and recognize the pattern here: I initiated one thing, and then kept going. Despite some twists and turns, I continued to “follow my feet”, embracing the forward movement, for movement’s sake.

To be honest, I’ve landed somewhere even better than my intended destination.

About getting unstuck

Something keeps coming up in nearly every conversation I've had with creative types recently. Almost all of them are sitting on an intention they haven't hit. They’ll often say that “life” got in the way.

A project they outlined but never started in earnest. A pivot they planned but never executed. A conversation they meant to have six months ago. There’s a version of themselves they keep almost becoming.

Often, their latest procrastination or shiny-object-chase simply serves as proof that they’re a failure - that they don’t deserve to get where they set out to go.

They're not seeing what I see from the outside. The chain of small moves they've already made is quietly changing their overall direction. The freelance gig that didn't work out but created a new set of contacts. The course they bought that ended up confirming exactly what they don't want. The networking calls that felt pointless but led to the one conversation that mattered. The LinkedIn post they almost didn't write, that someone they've never met read at exactly the right moment.

Intentions, however small, aren’t wasted. If along the way to a destination, you’re knocked off-course, that may not mean you’re stuck. You’re just on the next leg of the journey. When you widen out, to look at all the smaller moves, lined up together on the map, you can start to appreciate the real navigation.

Onward, through the storms

These days, burnout among creative professionals is at record levels, apparently hitting 70% in the past year across media, marketing, and creative sectors, which is a significantly higher rate than the broader workforce.

Senior creative directors, executive producers, lead designers, VFX experts, the ones who should be at their peak, have taken quite a hit lately. And most of them carry this pain, alone. Recent research shares that one in three creative pros describe their workplace as isolated or impersonal. Nearly 30% of usually high performers across these sectors have claimed they felt invisible at work.

The conventional response to all this is tactical and external. Get yourself out there. Update the resume. Refresh the reel. Take a course. Leave more voicemails, send more emails, meet for more coffees and down more cocktails.

None of that addresses what's really needed.

The career crisis that many creative professionals are experiencing isn't only a skills problem or a market problem. It's often an identity issue. Every practical concern reveals the very next question: where do I find work, how do I position myself, who do I speak to next.

Here’s a deeper and more honest one:
Who am I without this job?
…And more succinctly:
Who am I?

The search for answers to such a crucial question goes almost entirely unassisted by existing resources. HR is busy with on-boarding and laying off. Career coaches focus on outcomes. Recruiters focus on placement. LinkedIn focuses on visibility. Therapy’s great. I recommend it, love it. But sometimes even your therapist relates little more than your own parents when it comes to understanding the demands of this kind of career.

I believe creative professionals need to sit in the actual discomfort, in the liminal space between who they were and who they're becoming, to figure out what's actually true about themselves. That’s simply not possible in one’s workplace or at an industry mixer, and it’s not accomplished effectively by trying to do it alone. If only there was a confidential, productive way to interact with others in the same boat, to relate more deeply with one another, on the levels that truly matter.

That is exactly why I’m building THE COURAGEOUS.

The Trim Tab Philosophy

I've been thinking a lot lately about a concept I borrowed from Buckminster Fuller, the architect and systems thinker whose ideas about efficiency were decades ahead of their time, and whose thinking was deeply influenced by nautical design.

On a large ship, the trim tab is a tiny rudder. Its only job is to turn the big rudder, which then turns the ship. Without the small one, the large one can't move at all.

So the Trim Tab Philosophy seems to be a really useful framework for the moment most creative professionals are stuck in right now.

We're conditioned to look for the next big move. The dramatic pivot, the sudden plot twist. One single decision that changes everything, instantly.

When we can't find it, when the path forward isn't clear, when the right answer isn't obvious, when the risk feels too large, when the overwhelm takes over, well…we wait.

But you can only tread water for so long. The waiting blurs your vision even more and soon you’re drifting.

So the first move doesn't have to be the right move. It doesn't have to be impressive or strategic or perfectly aligned with where you eventually want to end up. It just has to be a move. Something small to create momentum. Maybe it shifts your angle by two degrees.

Doesn’t sound like much. But two degrees, held long enough, takes your ship somewhere completely different.

You've probably already made more small moves than you give yourself credit for.

The conversation you had that felt like a dead end. The project you started and chose to stop. The intention you set and partially followed. The side thing you tried out that didn't work the way you thought it might. Within each of these micro-experiences lies a lesson to be applied in the bigger picture.

None of it is failure, it’s learning. Let the trim tab do its work, quietly pushing the bigger rudder, degree by degree, toward something. You just can't fully see it yet.

So don’t worry about having full clarity right now. Keep nudging. Continue building the muscle, get in the habit of making the first small move. Stay curious about where it takes you and resist the urge to run from it and call it failure.

You're not behind; you're either treading or you’re in motion. Make the choice.

Drop me a line and tell me what you're going for. And what came up as you read this? I read every single response.

You’ve got this.

Onward,
Kevin
Founder, THE COURAGEOUS