Alright, let me set the scene for you. I’m sitting here, right? It’s late. I’ve got a laptop that’s running hot enough to grill a panini on, and I’m staring at my analytics. And I’m feeling that specific brand of low-grade despair that only comes when you realize you’ve been doing something incredibly stupid for, like, eight months straight.
Here’s the thing. I make a thing. Whatever your thing is, you make a thing. A podcast, a newsletter, a course, a candle that smells like existential dread, whatever. And you think, “I gotta get the word out.” So you start posting. You start engaging. You’re on the socials, you’re in the forums, you’re commenting on other people’s stuff. You’re networking, baby. You’re building an audience.
And nothing happens. Crickets. A couple of pity likes from your mom and that one guy from high school who now sells essential oils.
And you’re like, “What the hell? I’m doing everything right! I’m being authentic! I’m providing value!”
Yeah. You’re also, and I cannot stress this enough, marketing to other creatives instead of customers. And there’s a difference. A big, fat, obvious difference that you, and by you, I mean me, and by me, I mean all of us, keep tripping over.
Here’s how it happens. You’re a creative. So you hang out where the creatives hang out. You’re in the Facebook groups for podcasters. You’re on the subreddit for indie authors. You’re following the “growth hackers” and the “content strategists” on X, or Twitter, or whatever the hell Elon’s calling it this week. You’re listening to podcasts about how to make podcasts.
So when you go to “promote” your thing, where do you go? You go to those places. You post your link in the group for “Creative Entrepreneurs Supporting Creative Entrepreneurs.” And what happens? A bunch of other creative entrepreneurs go, “Great post! Check out MY thing!” And you go, “Great! I will! Check out MY thing!” And it’s just this… this sad, desperate circle jerk of mutual, performative support. Everyone’s clapping for everyone else, but nobody’s actually buying anything. We’re all just trading empty calories.
It’s like being a chef and only ever cooking for other chefs. They taste your food, they go, “Hmm, interesting use of tarragon. I use a different technique for my beurre blanc.” And you go, “Oh, cool, let me try yours.” And you both starve to death in a kitchen that smells like ambition and failure. Meanwhile, there’s a whole city of hungry people out there who just want a damn cheeseburger. They don’t care about your beurre blanc. They don’t even know what a beurre blanc is. They just want to eat.
That’s the problem. We’re so deep in the weeds of our own craft, so obsessed with the how and the why and the aesthetic, that we’ve forgotten there’s a whole world of normal people out there who just have a problem they want solved. They don’t want to be a part of your “journey.” They don’t want to join your “community.” They want the thing. They want the result. They want the feeling.
So let’s get into it. Let’s talk about what to actually do. Because I’ve been thinking about this, and I think there’s a way out. It’s not sexy. It’s gonna feel like swallowing a rock at first. But it’s real.
First. You gotta figure out who the hell your customer actually is. And I don’t mean “creative entrepreneurs aged 25-45 who value authenticity.” That’s not a person. That’s a demographic spreadsheet. That’s a LinkedIn post.
Sit down. Actually sit down. And finish this sentence: “The person I help is someone who…” And then make it so specific it hurts. Not “people who want to start a podcast.” Try “a 38-year-old dentist in Ohio who’s been meaning to start a podcast for two years and is embarrassed that he doesn’t know where to plug in the microphone.” Now that’s a person. I can see that guy. I can talk to that guy. That guy has a wallet and a problem and no time for my existential monologue about the craft.
The creative person in your audience? They don’t have that problem. They have the same problem you have. That’s why they’re not buying. They’re too busy trying to sell their own thing to the same imaginary audience. You’re two guys in the desert holding empty canteens, asking each other for water.
Second. Leave the building.
You know where your customer is not? Your customer is not in the “Creative Hustlers Rising Together” Facebook group. Your customer is not on the podcast about podcasting. Your customer is not at the networking mixer for independent makers. That’s where you are. That’s where all of us are. We’re all in the same sad little room, smelling each other’s desperation.
Your customer is somewhere else. Your dentist? He’s on a dental forum complaining that his practice’s website looks like it was built in 2004. Go there. Don’t sell. Just… be there. Answer a question. Be useful. Be a human being. That’s it. That’s the whole move. You’re not a marketer. You’re a guy at a party who happens to know something.
And I know what you’re thinking. “But Andy, I don’t wanna hang out on a dental forum, I’m an artist.” Yeah. Well. The artist’s kid still needs shoes. Put down the beret and go read a dental forum. I promise you’ll survive. You might even learn something.
Third. Kill the jargon. Kill it with fire.
Look at your last five posts. Seriously, go look. How many times do you use the word “journey”? “Community”? “Elevate”? “Content”? “Space”? “Offer”? How many times do you say “I help X do Y so they can Z”? That’s not language. That’s a hostage note.
Nobody talks like that. Not one human being on this earth, when describing a problem to a friend, says, “I’m struggling to find an evergreen content solution that scales.” They say, “I don’t know what to post and I’m tired.” Talk like that. Write like you’re texting your friend at 11 PM about something that’s bugging you. If your customer has to decode your message, they’re gone. They’re onto the next thing. They got a life, man. They got a dog to walk.
Fourth. Make one stupidly simple thing.
Here’s where I lose some of you. You want the big, beautiful, all-encompassing offer. The flagship program. The masterclass. The twelve-week journey. No. Bad. Stop.
Your customer is tired. Your customer is skeptical. Your customer has been burned by three other people selling them a dream. So give them one small, cheap, obvious, no-brainer thing. A $20 guide. A 30-minute call. A template. Something so small and so cheap that saying no feels stupid. And make sure it solves one real problem. Not a philosophy. A problem. The dentist wants to know how to record a podcast. Sell him that. Don’t sell him the meaning of audio.
And here’s the trick: the small thing isn’t a scam to upsell them later. It’s proof. It’s you proving you’re not full of shit. That’s how trust gets built. Not with a funnel. With a result.
Fifth. Stop measuring applause. Start measuring money.
This is the ugly one. This is the one that hurts. Because we like the applause. We like the likes. We like the retweets. We like the “great insight, man!” from someone whose name we’ve never seen buy anything.
But here’s the cold truth: a hundred likes from a hundred other creatives is worth exactly zero dollars. It’s a warm bath. It feels great and you’re still in the tub while the house burns down.
So look at your numbers. How many of your last hundred interactions turned into a dollar? If the answer is zero, and you’re getting “engagement,” congratulations, you’re famous in a town with no people in it. That’s not a business. That’s a hobby with a marketing budget.
Track the boring stuff. Track conversations that turned into sales. Track emails that got replies from strangers. Track the one weird DM from a dentist in Ohio. That’s your signal. That’s the thing. Follow that.
Sixth. And this is the hard one. Get comfortable being boring.
You wanted to be interesting. You wanted to be cool. You wanted to be the artist. And now I’m telling you to write a post that says, “Here’s how to fix your leaky faucet, it’s $15, click here.” That feels like death. I know. I’ve been there.
But here’s what I’ve learned, and it took me way too long: nobody buys interesting. They buy useful. Interesting gets you a compliment. Useful gets you a customer. And the customer is the person who, six months later, tells their friend about you. That’s the real audience. That’s the real community. Not the comment section. The repeat customer.
So be boring. Be specific. Be direct. Be the plumber. The plumber gets paid. The poet starves. Be a poet on your own time.
Okay. So let’s wrap this up. Here’s the whole thing in one breath:
Get out of the creative rooms. Figure out the one real person you help. Talk like a human. Make one stupidly simple offer. Measure money, not applause. And get comfortable being boring.
That’s it. That’s the whole thing. It’s not a secret. It’s not a hack. It’s just… doing the obvious thing that all of us avoid because it doesn’t feel cool.
It’s my mission to help creatives market more effectively, so they can spend less time marketing and more time creating. We need more creatives and less marketers. I’ve written two books which I know will help your marketing endeavours. Digital Marketing for Creatives is your one-stop, no BS, guide to makreting more effectively. The 21 Marketing Lies Creatives Tell Themselves is a look at all the stories us creatives ourselves which result in us creatives not marketing as well as we could. Self-sabotage! I provide the solutions also.
Every week I provide some help for fellow creatives to market as effectively as possible and not spend too much time away from their creativity. To stay informed about all future blog post, why not subscribe?
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