adjusts keyboard, clears throat, takes a long sip of coffee
Hello. How’s things? Yeah. Yeah, I know. I know I haven’t been around. I’ve been… look, I’ve been busy. I’ve been busy being creative, alright? That’s a thing. That’s a real thing that takes up time and energy and mental space. And I know, I know, I said I’d post more. I said I’d be here. And then I wasn’t. And you’re probably thinking, “Hey, where’d that guy go?” And the answer is: I was in the office/studio. Not literally, well some times literally, but also metaphorically. I was in my own head, working on shit, trying to make something that didn’t exist before exist. And that takes time.
There are not enough hours in the day. That’s just… that’s just a fact. That’s not an excuse, that’s physics. Or math. Or whatever. There are 24 hours, and I need about 40. And I’m not gonna apologise for that anymore. I’m not gonna feel bad about the fact that I can’t do everything, be everywhere, post on every platform, respond to every message, AND make the thing I’m trying to make. Because we’re not machines. We’re not content generators. We’re human beings, and human beings need time. We need space. We need to sit and stare at a wall and let ideas percolate. We need to not be productive sometimes in order to be productive other times. That’s the deal. That’s the bargain. And if we keep beating ourselves up for not being able to do the impossible, we’re just gonna burn out and then we won’t make anything at all.
long pause, deep breath
So yeah. That’s where I’ve been. That’s what I’ve been doing. Being creative. Which, by the way, is terrifying. It’s always terrifying. You sit down, you try to make something, and you’re confronted with your own limitations, your own doubts, your own… I don’t know, your own bullshit. And you have to push through it. You have to keep going. And that’s what I’ve been doing. That’s what I’ve been doing with this new book.
The 21 Marketing Lies Creatives Tell Themselves
So here’s the thing. I wrote a book. It’s called The 21 Marketing Lies Creatives Tell Themselves. And before you roll your eyes and think, “Oh great, another marketing book,” let me tell you what this is. This isn’t a book about how to sell more shit. This isn’t about funnels or algorithms or growth hacks. This is about the lies. The stories we tell ourselves to avoid doing the work. The excuses we dress up as wisdom. The little comforting fictions that keep us stuck.
I’ve been watching creatives, writers, artists, musicians, designers, all of us, for years. And I’ve been watching myself. And I’ve noticed something. We lie to ourselves constantly. We say things like, “I’m not good at marketing,” when what we mean is, “I’m scared to put myself out there.” We say, “I don’t want to be salesy,” when what we mean is, “I don’t want to be rejected.” We say, “The work should speak for itself,” when what we mean is, “I don’t want to do the hard, uncomfortable, unglamorous work of actually telling people the work exists.”
And these lies? They feel true. That’s the problem. They feel like principles. They feel like integrity. But they’re not. They’re fear dressed up as virtue. And they’re keeping us broke, unknown, and bitter.
So I wrote this book. Twenty-one lies. Twenty-one chapters. Each one is a mirror. Each one is a chance to look at yourself and ask, “Is this true? Or is this just something I tell myself so I don’t have to do the thing I’m afraid of doing?”. The the books provides all the solutions you need to resolve, well, pretty much all your marketing issues.
long pause
It’s not a comfortable book. It wasn’t comfortable to write. But it’s honest. And I think… I think we need more honesty. I think we need to stop pretending that marketing is something other people do, something dirty, something beneath us. Because here’s the truth: if you’re making things and no one knows about them, you’re not an artist. You’re a hobbyist. And there’s nothing wrong with being a hobbyist. But if you want to be an artist with an audience, with a career, with a life that sustains itself… you have to learn to market. You have to learn to sell. You have to learn to tell people what you made and why it matters.
That’s not selling out. That’s showing up.
Okay. That’s the pitch. That’s the book. I’ll probably write more about it later. I’ll probably write more about everything later. But right now, I just wanted to say hello. I wanted to explain where I’ve been. And I wanted to remind you, and remind myself, that we’re not machines. We’re not content farms. We’re people. And people need time.
So if you haven’t heard from me in a while, it’s not because I don’t care. It’s because I’m being creative. And that’s a good thing. That’s the best thing.
adjusts keyboard, takes another sip of coffee, which is now cold, because of course it is
And while I’m at it, while I’m catching you up on shit, I gotta tell you about something else. I redesigned the cover to my first book, Digital Marketing for Creatives. Yeah. I know. Who cares about a cover, right? Wrong. I care. I’ve always cared. And here’s the thing: I was never happy with the original cover. Never. Not from day one. I looked at it and I felt… nothing. Or worse than nothing. I felt that little cringe, that little internal wince you get when you look at something you made and know, deep down, that it isn’t right. But I published it anyway. Because that’s what we do, isn’t it? We settle. We tell ourselves it’s good enough. We tell ourselves nobody notices. We tell ourselves we’ll fix it later. And then later never comes.
But this one, this new cover, this one is more in keeping with what I had in mind. And that’s a weird thing to say, right? “What I had in mind.” Because what I had in mind was never a fully formed image. It was a feeling. It was a vibe. It was this sense of what the book was, practical, direct, no bullshit, made for people who make things and need to get those things out into the world without losing their souls in the process. The old cover didn’t say that. The new one does. Or at least it says it better. And look, I know, I know, that a cover doesn’t change the words inside. I know it doesn’t change the value. But it changes how I feel about the thing. And how I feel about the thing matters. Because if I don’t believe in it, why the hell should you?
long pause
So yeah. New cover. Same book. Better feeling. Sometimes that’s all you need to fall back in love with something you made.
cackles
Alright. I’m gonna go stare at a wall for a bit. Then I’ll make something.
That’s the deal.
Talk soon. Promise.
Officially andy russell 