Building a one-person creative enterprise often looks simple from the outside — and is frequently presented online as easy.

The promise of creative independence, autonomy, agency, and a professional life free from 9-5 hours, water cooler gossip and endless meetings.

Yet, on the inside, it’s still a world of human affairs (as in the image above on the right): taste, trust, timing, emotion, attention, manipulation, decisions, and so on.

Often, the feedback you receive can be messy, convoluted, and hits dead ends, looping back and retracing steps. Frequently, it rolls on slow proof and long stretches where trusting your work and process matters more than metrics.

I see a lot of people in creative gigs, trying to run things like it’s engineering. They expect linear progress (like the “Technical Matters” image above). They expect and sometimes even demand clean timelines. They hunt for tactics to erase unease and uncertainty. Constantly searching, analyzing and evaluating.

If not managed carefully and mindfully, this pressure becomes a steady form of self-betrayal and feeds a loss of agency. You realize you're trading creativity for performance and sacrificing autonomy and uniqueness to compliance (with whatever you think the environment rewards).

Almost 4 Years Now (As a Soulpreneur)

In the spring of 2022, I walked away from corporate public sector employment. I set out, with no safety net, no big financial reserve, and no lineup of contracts or clients.

My goal? CEO of my time and energy. Creative pursuits and enterprises. Personal agency and autonomy. More time and flexibility for family.

One of the clear pathways I saw in this work (but not the only path)? — The Creator Economy.

Now, over 3 years into projects connected to The Creator Economy, I’ve found the key isn’t “better tactics.” It’s about leveraging effective ways of thinking and observing, specifically in ways keeping your agency intact while results take the time they need.

The Creator Economy tends to amplify status, comparison, envy, and urgency. It also amplifies one of the most expensive questions in the game: How long should this take?

In technical domains, that question is useful. In human affairs, it distorts thinking and decisions.

For example, in The Creator Economy, time gets treated as the evidence (faster the better, is the sense). Slow feedback becomes a verdict. Emotions drive control systems. Decisions start serving relief from anxiety.

Soulpreneurship — especially in The Creator Economy — is the discipline of keeping your agency when incentives (and platforms) want to rent your identity. Soulpreneurship is about building (and practicing) in public without letting public feedback (e.g. claps, likes, followers, etc.) become your only internal compass.

So here’s a practice to try, to keep this approach. Bird-watching.

Bird-Watching (“What?!” You Say)

Observation before analysis. Looking for patterns. Accumulating observations, behaviours and experiences over time.

Almost every day, I walk a gravel section of rural road near where we live. It crosses a wetland area near the lake we live beside. In the spring and summer, it’s busy with birds. On many days, dedicated bird watchers set up on the road. Some with cameras and remotes. Others with binoculars.

We’ve learned that some pretty rare birds frequent this wetland area.

What the heck does bird watching have to do with soulpreneurship or The Creator Economy?

Bird watchers don’t show up expecting a rare bird to appear on demand. They don’t treat an empty hour as a verdict on how good or bad their birdwatching is. They watch, take notes, and come back.

Over time, they learn patterns: where birds tend to be, when they move, and what changes with weather and seasons.

That’s the stance I’m borrowing for The Creator Economy. More observation, less judgment and verdict-making. Sort of like an anthropologist observing and making field notes.

Keeping Field Notes in The Creator Economy

So many people scroll and react. They treat their reactions as “research.” They let what gets rewarded pull their attention and shape their choices. They copy tactics because it feels safer than uncertainty and experimentation.

Bird watching is different. You stay calm. Pay attention and look for patterns. You keep your identity and emotions largely out of it. You’re not there to judge the birds or their behaviours. You’re there to observe and learn what’s happening.

You’re not there to argue with the birds. You’re there to learn what birds are around and how birds behave.

It’s challenging to be both an actor and an observer at the same time. It’s really tough to engage in thinking about something while also observing the style of that thinking or its patterns.

In the time I’ve spent in The Creator Economy—building in public, running idea labs, and slowly assembling my own creative infrastructure—I’ve noticed something consistently.

Most people don’t study and observe platforms — they analyze and judge them. They ask questions like:

• Is Medium dead?

• Is it worth posting anymore?

• Where is the “best” place to build?

• Should I focus on LinkedIn or Substack?

Those questions are fair. The problem is how people try to answer them. A lot of the answers are verdicts. Hot takes. Pronouncements.

Lately, I’ve seen more posts and articles like:

“After 10 years on LinkedIn, I’m leaving.”

Then a list of reasons follows: AI slop, low-quality content, spam, fake engagement, declining reach, etc.

Some of those reasons might be real. That’s not the point. The point is the stance taken, and how.

Most of these posts are written as judgments and land as conclusions. They invite agreement vs. non-agreement — not learning. They highlight the writer/poster's emotions and also trigger emotions in the reader: urgency, cynicism, relief, envy, and fear of being late.

That is a terrible basis for strategy in a one-person business. Here’s why.

Platforms are human systems

Human systems shape your thinking while you use them. If you take in platform commentary as verdicts, you end up making decisions to calm your state—copying what feels safe, quitting in a wave, pivoting for relief.

That’s how the systems affect you. Box Cutter Co. is built on a different move: clear (often slower) thinking before action. So the question is not “Is LinkedIn good or bad?”

The question is: What’s going on over there? What patterns are showing up, what do they reward, and what do they do to me?

That’s observation. And observation helps you keep your agency and autonomy. It turns “platform mood” into observations and information instead. It helps you choose your relationship with a platform rather than getting pulled into someone else’s verdict, emotions and decisions.

That’s the reason for the bird-watching approach.

Using Field Notes in Creative Enterprises

Pick one platform for the week: LinkedIn, Medium, Substack, X, Instagram, YouTube. You are not trying to decide if the platform is “good” or “bad.” You are simply observing to see what is happening and how it affects you.

1. Collect five online “specimens”

Save five items from that platform. Examples:

• a popular post

• a comment thread

• a “here’s why I’m leaving” post

• a piece of advice about growth

• a piece of content that looks like AI-filler

Pick items that pull your attention or change your mood.

2. Write one sentence: “What is this?”

For each specimen, write one plain sentence describing it. Look to facts. Examples:

• “A post warning people to leave LinkedIn because of AI content.”

• “A personal story with a lesson and a call to action.”

• “A thread promising growth if you post daily.”

No opinions. No rating. Just the facts.

3. Write one sentence: “What is this post trying to do?”

For each specimen, write one sentence about its purpose. Here are some examples:

• “It’s trying to sell a course.”

• “It’s trying to get agreement.”

• “It’s trying to trigger urgency.”

• “It’s trying to signal expertise.”

  ---

4. Write one line: “What did it do to me?”

Name the effect on your state, such as:

• “I feel behind.”

• “I started feeling cynical.”

• “Now, I want to post right away.”

• “Made me want to copy the format.”

• “I felt angry and wanted to leave the platform.”

This is important. It’s where you regain agency.

5. Answer three questions

For each specimen, write short notes:

• What pattern does it rely on?

  (certainty, outrage, fear, status, identity, confession, “one trick,” etc.)

• What does it reward?

  (attention, agreement, followers, sales, praise, belonging)

• What does it skip?

  (tradeoffs, time, risk, context, prerequisites)

6. See if you can name one pattern you saw across the five

Sometimes these are hard to identify, but try to find just one. For example:

• “Doom posts travel fast.”

• “Certainty gets rewarded.”

• “People use numbers to sound credible.”

• “AI content is changing what gets seen.”

7. Make one decision for the next 7 days

Choose a move, such as:

• Refuse: “I won’t build around this pattern.”

• Borrow: “I’ll use the useful part in my own voice.”

• Redesign: “I’ll make a cleaner version for my work.”

Write one sentence: This week, my rule is: ________.

Examples such as:

• “I don’t post to calm anxiety.”

• “I don’t copy certainty. I share what I can stand behind.”

• “I use LinkedIn for reach and my newsletter for depth.”

8. Ship one small thing

One sentence. One paragraph. One short post. One email. One note. The point is to stay in the work, in your way. Field Notes are not another reason to delay. It’s a way of thinking differently about what you’re doing.

Why this fits Soulpreneurship (and other parts of your life)

Soulpreneurship builds some quiet skills, like staying open to learning without being pushed around. This matters online. It also matters in other parts of your life. So many modern environments run on fast judgments:

• workplace politics

• family tension

• social media

• news cycles

• group chats

• markets

The common mistake is the same: you treat your first reaction as the truth. You treat the first week of data as the whole story. You rush to a conclusion so you can feel settled again.

Taking a bird-watching approach trains a different habit. You can:

• notice what is happening.

• notice what it does to you.

• extend your timeframes.

• decide from a steadier place.

And, that’s agency.

It’s also expectation management. You stop demanding fast proof from systems that may need to move slowly. You stop turning normal slowness into a verdict on your talent, or progress, or creativity.

Over time, your Field Notes become an asset. You build your own field guide:

• what pulls you off your path

• what gets rewarded

• what gets ignored

• what supports your work

Doing something like this can reduce panic, comparison envy, constant pivots, or frustration-driven quits. It helps you choose how you use each platform. It helps you keep your voice. It helps keep you… you (and that’s the soul part).

So many people are writing and posting for approval, recognition, or applause.

But your soul doesn’t need public approval or anyone’s permission — to flourish.

We’re all trained early:

• Wait your turn.

• Raise your hand.

• Get permission first.

It’s baked into schools. Into jobs. Into social norms. We hesitate before we create, waiting for someone to nod, smile, and say, “Yes, that’s okay.”

But here’s a key shift underway in The Creator Economy, and sub-sector The Business Creator Economy (B2B).

• 👉 Creativity (and creative businesses of one) don’t require permission.

They run on clarity. On courage. And on quiet alignment with your purpose (on purpose) and in line with your unique calling.

In this issue, how to build a permission-less creative practice. And, how to stop waiting for validation and listen to something deeper.

Permission-Seeking Keeps You Stuck

It happens everywhere:

• Asking employers if you can post

• Polling peers before launching your project.

• Asking course creators if it’s okay to try something new.

• Pausing ideas because no one else seems to do things that way.

Permission-seeking doesn’t just slow you down—it keeps your soul’s unique calling trapped and shrunk.

You might be thinking:

• “That’s nice in theory. But I can’t just quit my job and start creating.”

I get it. Permissionless doesn’t mean reckless. It means beginning a shift—subtly, steadily—toward listening to yourself more than you listen to others.

It can start in 10 minutes daily, and level up from there.

Waiting for permission is often status quo comfort disguised as caution. It feels safer to follow (the rules, others, the ‘successful’ ones). Easier to blend in and “not rock the boat.”

But your best creative work—your soul’s authentic work—never comes from imitation. It comes from trust. It comes in the quiet pull, not always explaining itself, but never really leaving.

It’s who you are when no one’s watching, applauding, or supervising. It’s when you continue to build even when no one’s clapping or re-posting.

It comes from action without approval, permission, or someone else’s deadline.

Moving from Permission to Practice

I left corporate public sector employment three years ago. Since then, I’ve been writing every day. Some of this is in private Learning Journals. A lot of it is posted openly and publicly online.

Writing daily, quietly and consistently, is an excellent practice for connecting (and reconnecting) to your inner authority. Authoring your unique, personal authenticity.

Your creative voice strengthens as you shift from:

• Approval to… authenticity

• Validation to… experimentation

• Seeking permission to… giving yourself permission

The quiet practice of writing regularly builds something deeper than an audience. It builds discernment. Then clarity. Then direction, belonging to you.

I know this can sound fru-fru. Impractical. But permissionless practice isn’t vague or soft.

It’s a system—a daily rhythm of reflection, testing, and creating—without waiting for someone’s green light.

Strategy isn’t always spreadsheets — sometimes, it starts with listening.

I was very clear when I left secure employment to launch a creative enterprise… that creativity, writing, and permissionless building would be my business's core creative infrastructure and long-term foundation.

Writing as a Soulpreneur isn’t about being seen. It’s about seeing clearly.

• Not writing to be seen, but so I could see better.

• Not creating to be followed, but so I could follow through.

So many people are waiting for approval and permission. Writing is a quiet defiance and an escape from those psychological drags.

Soul-aligned Businesses are Permission-less By Design

Permission is often a shaky concept. It relies on consensus, applause, and someone else saying, “You’re ready now.” Or, “Yes, you can do that.”

And yes—feedback matters. But not before clarity. The trap is outsourcing direction before you define what you want. Soul-aligned work welcomes feedback—but it doesn’t depend on it to begin (or to continue).

Clarity doesn’t have to come from consensus. Or from someone else. It comes from listening inward—persistently, quietly, stubbornly.

And thus, Soul-aligned Businesses of One flip the dynamic entirely:

• You don’t chase the trend. You build from the inside out.

• You don’t wait to be certified. You validate through processes.

• You don’t crowdsource your confidence. You cultivate it through rhythm.

• You don’t ask if your content is “permitted” — You experiment and observe.

Permissionless creation is quietly rebellious. It resists the need to be impressive. It bypasses digital dogma.

And, it reconnects you with your internal compass—where strategy meets soul, and clarity becomes your creative fuel.

I consistently find, the most resonant work doesn’t come from following all the rules. It often comes from remembering what I’m here to make, then making it.

Or using writing to put shape and substance to my thoughts, where soul-aligned work can flourish.

• Not louder. But deeper.

• Not with scale. But with substance.

And once you taste that kind of creative autonomy, there’s no going back to waiting rooms (to secure permission).

Writing as a Diagnostic Tool for the Soul

Your soul doesn’t crave engagement metrics. It craves coherence. Alignment. Peace of direction. When you write—without the pressure to perform—you will notice:

• What lights you up versus what drains you

• Which decisions are yours versus borrowed

• Where the deeper voice is trying to get through

Writing becomes a calibration practice. You realign with rhythm. You return to yourself.

Creative Endurance is About Rhythm, not Rush

Quiet creative businesses aren’t built overnight. They’re built persistently over time.

• Rhythmically

• Steadily

Without seeking constant reassurance from outside voices. Permission-less soulpreneurs measure progress differently:

• Not by hustle, but by rhythm.

• Not by virality, but by authenticity.

• Not by permission, but by personal alignment.

This doesn’t mean growth, revenue, or reach don’t matter. It means they’re downstream of clarity, not substitutes for it.

Soulpreneurs can make great money. But the approach to business honours energy, integrity, and creative rhythm. (Keep in mind: Many people can bring their soul to work in their employment, too.)

The most powerful creative businesses quietly sustain themselves by honouring this deeper truth: Your soul already knows the way.

Permissionless Principles for Quieter Creatives

To move away from permission and toward more soul-aligned creation, try these principles:

• Build quietly. Noise distracts; silence guides.

• Think clearly. Clarity leads; applause follows.

• Move steadily. The soul values rhythm, not frenetic fuss

• Repeat relentlessly. Persistency creates alignment and inner trust.

A question to consider:

👉 “Am I creating from approval—or from clarity?”

Sit with this question. Write about it. Let your soul answer honestly. Then build around the quiet clarity that emerges.

Soulpreneurs and creative businesses don’t wait for permission. They build quiet systems and rhythms, sustaining their creativity and supporting their unique calling.

It’s not about being loud. It’s about being clear.

That’s the shift.

Your soul doesn’t need permission or applause to flourish. It simply requires your attention, rhythm, and readiness to begin.

P.S. Box Cutter Co. is expanding.

After two-and-a-half years of weekly publishing, Box Cutter Co. has expanded to Medium and LinkedIn.

I’m evolving this initiative from a newsletter into a full creative strategy practice, focusing on thinking, writing, learning design (& redesign), and permissionless creative work.

• → Follow along on LinkedIn and Medium.

You may not know what you’re chasing—only that something’s off.

Like you’re doing all the right things, but still slightly off-course.

Do you sometimes feel like you are living slightly beside yourself?

• Things get done, but you still feel restless.

• Still waiting, but unsure for what?

We tell ourselves or get told by others on social media, that the answer is simple… It’s just “consistency”!

• Or a clearer Vision.

• Or purpose.

• Or a better system

• Or more cold outreach…

Or, it can be found in six easy modules (for $199).

But our souls don’t move in straight lines— neither does personal meaning. And they certainly don’t care about your productivity, output, or follower count.

More Metrics Myths

The Creator Economy is obsessed with more. The metrics of more.

• More subscribers. More followers. More measurable reach.

Visibility is a virtue, suggests some prolific myths.

Some deeper, peddled illusions?

• If you just post enough, write enough, and show up enough— you’ll eventually build a thriving, successful business.

• That one person—maybe you—can change the whole game. Be the next breakout. The next story people quote in case studies or on CNBC.

We’re sold a story that visibility equals impact, and scaling up is proof of success.

However, most of this is built on several biases.

Focusing Illusion

One of these — psychologists call it the focusing illusion.

When you shine a light on one area of life, it begins to dominate your mental landscape.

You become convinced everything depends on it, that your identity rides on engagement rates.

And that your worth, progress, and success are whatever the internet reflects back to you on any given day (in coloured line graphs and updated counts).

If you are caught in this, shine the light elsewhere. Move your focus elsewhere.

Intentional Stance

There’s also intentional stance, a bias suggesting significant changes occur because one specific individual willed it into existence.

• Without Steve Jobs, no iPhone.

• Without Musk, no SpaceX or Tesla.

• Without you, this whole corner of the internet may collapse!

For many, it’s a comforting thought. But it’s an exaggerated one. And, false.

Most significant events, shifts, and movements aren’t the result of a single visionary. They’re messy. Deeply enmeshed with the past, including the work of others.

Einstein didn’t develop the theory of relativity in a flash of genius. It was built on years of other people’s (and his own) work. While he developed it, he worked in a patent office.

Big events and breakthroughs are interconnected with the past. They’re full of contradictions and interpretations, plus some luck and timing.

Even the stories we tell about them are cleaned up in hindsight.

For example, despite Einstein’s brilliance in several breakthrough theories, he spent the last 30 years of his life trying to devise theories which never came to much…

And yet, this myth of singular, scaled influence (like Einstein, or Benjamin Franklin, or Ghandi-even) still drives many creatives to try and build things unaligned with themselves.

The myth isn’t just that one person changes everything. It’s the glorified myth that everyone should. Which quietly turns meaningful work into a ridiculous performative false destiny.

Biases like the ones above shape perception, as well as how we build and what we believe we must become. But those stories aren’t ours.

The Machine of Perceptions

I’ve done some of this in the past.

For example, taken on work because it “moved the needle.” Agreed to projects because they were visible, not because they were right.

At the time, it felt “strategic.” In hindsight, it was reactive—a way to feed the perception machines.

Somewhere along the way, I must have stopped asking:

• What’s useful? What’s sustainable? What’s mine?

And probably started asking:

• How do I get more eyes?

• How do I match the pace of others?

• How do I not fall behind in a race (I never agreed to participate in)?

The answers to the above are predictable.

Make more. Move faster. Be everywhere.

But that’s how erosion works. Not in a single collapse—but in tiny, almost invisible shifts.

It starts with just one compromise: one project that doesn’t feel right but looks good. One “just this once” agreement to work you don’t believe in—one week where increasing your metrics feels more real than your authentic self.

These sorts of slips don’t break you. They wear you down.

Quietly. Gradually. Strategically.

[We have a cat like this — she’s 13 years old and Relentless when she needs something]

The problem with a business operating this way is it runs on perceptions. False ones. Ones not your own — instead of purpose and meaning (defined and lived by you).

My Creative Enterprises

I don’t run my businesses to scale them. I run them to stay rooted. Translating to fewer projects but ones with deeper meaning.

• It means resisting the pressure to chase what’s trending.

• It means treating my attention like a precious resource.

• It means letting go of certain myths.

Like the myth, I can plan my way to certainty. The myth that scale equals security.

The myth that every worthwhile project must grow an audience, grow more subscribers, grow more impressions.

Yet, much of what sustains a creative business isn’t glamorous. It’s small, habitual, persistent, and quiet.

Like the weekly email or newsletter, you post even when no one replies or gives you a 👍 or ❤️.

The client project you refine for the third time—not because you had to, but because it matters.

The decision to ignore a trend, even though it could boost your visibility.

It’s not just quiet — it’s rebellious.

Because in a world shouting for more, showing up small, true to you, and understanding your “just enough”—is radical.

Clarity in Small Sizes

There’s clarity in being small. You can see your work more plainly.

You know who it’s for. You stop chasing abstraction and tend to reality.

I’ve had posts with zero likes lead to new clients—five-line posts with 10 impressions that opened deep conversations.

I’ve had my quirky illustrations on LinkedIn posts draw in comments from someone on the other side of the globe. (A digital dialogue that continues 2 years later)

I’ve had stories go primarily unnoticed—until someone sent me a note (weeks or months later) saying it was exactly what they needed.

This is the thing about meaning and Soulpreneurship. It doesn’t always arrive on time. And it rarely scales cleanly and immaculately.

Look through history for people who died unknown to most, but their work rose to immense fame and value after passing.

Their work didn’t go viral. It went deep. Passed hand to hand.

Quietly. Persistently.

Until it outlasted the noise.

There are elements to this approach, in how I try to build these days.

No hacks. No hype.

Just keeping the work meaningful to me and shared in small cycles. Relatively quiet, steady, persistent.

Thankfully, it’s grown into revenues more than the corporate sector job I left behind.

Not by chasing scale. But by staying aligned.

Some Things to Try 👇

1. Question the impulse to scale

Before chasing and pursuing bigger—ask, “why?”

• Is it about reach? Or recognition?

• What are you hoping to feel once you get there?

2. Define “enough” (without the algorithms)

What is:

• Enough readers.

• Enough clients.

• Enough revenue to live well (and create freely).

Write your ‘enough’ metrics before the internet and social media write it for you.

3. Build for sustainability, not applause

• What systems support the life you want—not just the business you admire?

• What can you keep doing, even when it’s quiet?

• What do you want to do even when it feels like getting ghosted?

4. Separate cause from illusion

You don’t need to believe you’re changing the world to do meaningful work. You only need to act in alignment, respond with care, and create with integrity plus some level of authenticity.

• What narrative are you telling yourself about why your work matters—and is it your story?

• If your work never went viral, would it still feel meaningful to create?

5. Accept the partial, the slow, the sufficient

Not all good things have to become big.

Not all resonance is measurable.

Not all impacts can be traced.

So What? Now What?

You don’t have to be the hero of a movement.

You don’t need a stage. You probably don’t even need applause.

A life of value and meaning isn’t built by audience size. It’s built by attention (especially yours’) and meaning (also yours).

It’s built by craft. By rhythm.

By the quiet, daily return to work, reflecting who you are.

You don’t find your voice by scaling it.

You find it by listening to what won’t leave you alone.

The soul doesn’t care about reach.

It cares about resonance — the kind lingering, disturbing, healing, and maybe sometimes haunting.

Let your work grow roots, not just branches. And let those roots be tangled, imperfect, and real.

Creativity isn’t luck or “Eureka!” lightning bolts.

It’s intentional choices, decisions, and set directions.

It’s a system you shape—and are shaped by—in equal measure. It’s deciding what pulls you and what doesn’t.

Consider, for a moment, the words traction and distraction.

Both come from the Latin root trahere, meaning “to draw or pull.” Distraction adds the suffix ‘dis-,’ meaning “away.” Thus:

• Traction pulls you in.

• Distraction pulls you out.

You might think traction is good and distraction bad. But it’s not that simple. You need both.

• Traction is focus. Execution. Momentum.

• Distraction is openness. Curiosity. Intuition.

One builds forward motion. The other reveals insights, questions, discoveries.

What is a Strategic Creative?

Strategic creatives—those who build businesses around their creativity—don’t eliminate distractions.

Instead, they learn to lean into them at the right times, balancing open wanderings with structured and boundaried focus.

They create workflows, habits, and systems. Not to cage creativity in but to catch it when it arrives.

And here’s a complicated truth many successful creative folks learn (some the hard way): Ideas aren’t just built from things—they also emerge from spaces between things.

• Words don’t become sentences without spaces.

• Notes don’t become music without silence.

Creativity often results in tangible products and outcomes—courses, articles, strategies, workshops, books—but it also requires stillness, silence, gaps, and distance.

Distraction provides space for fresh meanings to emerge or, more simply, where thoughts, snippets, new learning, and ideas percolate, skip and jump, and (often) result in new theories, products, or systems.

Creativity without systems can become chaotic. And systems without creativity often become hollow, sterile, and robotic.

Creativity as Practice

Creativity isn’t something you passively await, or is it magically granted to a select few at birth. It’s a way of being—one that is cultivated and practiced.

It’s openness to possibilities, sensitivity to intuition, and responsiveness to your surroundings. It’s also getting things done, produced, and published (aka. shipped).

In his excellent book The Creative Act: A Way of Being, Rick Rubin suggests creativity is about presence, noticing subtleties others overlook, and refining awareness.

Similarly, in his mid-1990s book Creativity: Flow and the Psychology of Discovery and Invention, psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi emphasized creativity isn’t isolated genius—it’s deeply embedded in systems.

The book is based on his almost thirty years of research and interviews with over 100 creative people, including Nobel prize winners and others.

Csikszentmihalyi suggests creativity occurs in interactions between a person’s skills, domains of knowledge they work in, and the field of people who recognize and validate creative contributions.

For example, Einstein’s theory of relativity didn’t develop in isolation. It was based on creative theorizing of those before him, confirmed by those in his knowledge domains at the time and after.

In other words, creativity is not only personal— it’s systemic.

It’s also an intentionally built practice intended to be returned to repeatedly. A practice that takes practice.

For digital entrepreneurs, creative business builders, and Soulpreneurs alike, creativity isn’t just outputs—articles, books, courses, workshops, coaching services, digital products, etc.

It’s also the quality of attention, intention, and rhythm you bring to the work.

The forms may vary, but the practice is universal.

If you want lightning insights, you must practice building and cultivating storms.

3 Years of Creative Practice (Driven by an Anti-Vision)

This month (April) marks three years since I left the corporate public sector and set deep intentions to launch creative enterprises (from scratch).

For those pondering this or in the midst of it, social media is full of advice on developing a clear vision, goals and direction.

Yes, these are important.

However, they simply won’t get you through the days of doubt. (And, those I assure you, come for Soulpreneurs and those establishing and running creative enterprises)

In addition to being intentional about what I wanted to build, I established a piercing Anti-vision to ensure I was abundantly clear on what I never intended to return to (e.g., toxic workplaces and offices).

For over two and a half years, I’ve published almost daily on LinkedIn, written hundreds of articles on Medium, published weekly issues of Box Cutter Co., and established a creative venture in “The Business Creator Economy.”

These activities aren’t random. They are intentional practices designed to cultivate rhythm and flow in my creative process. They are intentional creative practice.

Yes, frequent posting on LinkedIn, Substack, Medium, and other platforms can be effective, as well as free marketing. But it’s also more than that—

…it’s how I practice creativity (privately and publicly), refine and test my thinking, and stay consistently tuned to traction and distraction.

Regular posting, writing, and publishing create structure, accountability, and persistent steps forward. (Screw the ‘be consistent’ advice — be persistent, instead)

Alongside the daily creative movement forward is keeping daily distractions — as a key component of creative practice.

This provides the space between ‘the work’ for openness to new ideas, experimentation, and letting my mind wander through seemingly unrelated topics and thoughts.

These are often walks, which I do almost every day. 👇

However, now that spring has arrived, I also do a lot of bike riding, especially on isolated gravel roads. This was last week 👇

These physical activities and movement are also intentional creativity practices providing critical distractions — leading to unexpected connections, insights, and previously unseen opportunities.

(And damn good for the Soul)

5 Tangible Ways to Balance Traction and Distraction

Here are five tangible ways to balance traction and distraction in your creative endeavours:

1. Define Constraints (Clearly and Often)

Creativity thrives under constraints. Without clear edges, ideas drift.

• Try tight timelines: Can you build your next online course outline in one hour, not ten?

• Set narrow parameters: What if your next post or newsletter could only be 250 words? (I’ve started experimenting a lot more with this)

• Limit inputs: Can you teach one powerful thing in your next video or podcast episode instead of ten?

2. Wander With Purpose (And Intentional Curiosity)

Creative entrepreneurs benefit from deliberate exploration.

• Read at angles. Step outside your usual industry sources. A business consultant might learn unexpected lessons from architecture or poetry.

• Observe relentlessly. Notice what others overlook. For example, a graphic designer might find fresh ideas by observing how baristas organize their workflow. (Designers do this frequently)

• Create ‘wandering time.’ Schedule blocks each week to explore something completely unrelated to your daily work, such as art, travel stories, or historical biographies.

3. Capture Constantly (Nothing Too Small)

Your creative output relies on consistent and persistent input.

• Keep an ideas journal (physical or digital). Write down everything—even incomplete thoughts. (I use the Notes app, Notion, and good ‘ol pen and paper)

• Use voice memos. Capture sparks during walks, commutes, or downtime. (Voice memos can also be put in Notes, as can scanned words or quotes from a book).

• Create a “swipe file.” Collect snippets, quotes, and visuals that inspire you, catch your attention, AND repulse you. A single captured insight might become the heart of your next course, article or consultancy offer.

4. Return to Structure (Refine and Rebuild)

Creative practice and momentum builds on itself. Refine your raw insights into products, services, or content.

• After wandering, return to your established creative systems and practices.

• Turn one small insight into a clear takeaway your audience or clients might use or need.

• Use structured checklists or frameworks like “The Rule of Three,” the “1-3-1” writing framework, or simple mind maps to organize your ideas into published work.

5. Repeat (Rhythm, Not Formula)

The magic of creativity is in rhythm, not necessarily routine.

• Creativity isn’t a linear formula. It’s cyclical—push and pull, forward and away.

• Regularly shift between distraction and traction.

• Learn and lean into your personal creative ebb and flow. The rhythm is a system (and practice) you refine over time.

  • For me, I break up my day into segments, with mornings as generally the time for my own creative practices and posting, then get the work done I need to do for clients (with a walk in between)

Why Does This Matter for Creative Entrepreneurs?

Creativity isn't just a nice thing to have if you’re a creative entrepreneur or even an employee. It’s essential.

You’re turning insights, expertise, and creative intuition into tangible business opportunities, products, and/or revenue.

(Stay tuned for upcoming Box Cutter Co. issues focussing on The Business Creator Economy, as a sub-sector of The Creator Economy — and ripe for opportunities)

This structured-yet-flexible practice of balancing traction and distraction can assist you in:

• Continuing to build and offer quality products and services.

• Staying innovative, relevant, and ahead of stagnation, irrelevance, and boredom.

• Cultivating trust and relationships by consistently delivering value while remaining open to new ideas and insights. (rinse and repeat as necessary)

Hold Tensions, Build Storms

Creativity isn’t waiting—it’s actively building while also patiently waiting.

If you want those lightning moments, practice building storms.

But keep in mind:

• Even storms are still before they break

• Lightning waits in silence before it cracks

• Creativity lives between intentional systems and silences

Your task isn’t to choose one over the other, or practice one over the other, but to hold space for Both/And.

Start small. Carry on with intention.

How About You?

• Where could you benefit from deliberate distraction?

• How can you build practices that give you consistent creative rhythm?

• Where in your creative process might you need more intentional traction?

Drop a comment. Always curious how others navigate this.

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