Digital Marketing for Creatives

You know what’s funny? I can spend three weeks in my “studio, or, you know, at my laptop, whatever the modern equivalent of a studio is, obsessing over a thing. A piece of writing. A piece of art. A whatever. And I’ll be in there, hunched over, muttering to myself, tweaking the same sentence forty times, feeling like a lunatic, but it’s fine. It’s comfortable. Nobody’s watching. It’s me and the work and the hum of the thing.

And then it’s done. And there’s this moment, this horrible, quiet moment, where the thing sits there, finished, and I realize that to get it to anyone, I have to do the other part. The part where I have to say, out loud, to actual humans: “Hey. I made this. Would you maybe… give me money for it?”

And suddenly I’m twelve years old at a school dance. That’s the feeling. That’s the gap.

Because here’s the thing nobody tells you: finishing the work is satisfying. It’s hard, sure, but it’s the good kind of hard, the kind where you’re solving a puzzle that only you care about. But asking for money? That’s a different animal. That’s vulnerability with a price tag on it. You’re not just saying “here’s my thing,” you’re saying “here’s my thing, and I believe it’s worth something, and now you have to decide if I’m right, and if you say no, a little part of me dies.” That’s the transaction. That’s the awkward gap.

And I get it, I’m a guy who’s spent a lot of time in rooms where people clap politely and then nobody buys anything. I know that feeling. So let me give you some tips, from someone who’s had to learn this the hard way, on how to get to the selling part without losing your mind.

1. Separate the work from the ask. The work is done. It’s not you anymore, it’s a thing. A product. A book, a song, a whatever. When you ask for money, you’re not asking for validation of your soul. You’re offering a trade. “Here’s a thing I made. If it’s useful to you, here’s what it costs.” That’s it. That’s the whole transaction. Don’t make it a referendum on your worth as a human being. It’s a transaction.

2. Say it out loud before you say it to anyone else. Practice the ask. Literally. In the mirror. “I made this. It’s ten dollars. Here’s the link.” Say it until it stops sounding like you’re begging and starts sounding like you’re offering. Because you are offering. You made a thing. That’s not nothing.

3. Pick the smallest possible audience first. Don’t announce to the world. Tell five people. The ones who already like you. The ones who’ve bought your stuff before. The ones who will say “yeah, sure, cool” and mean it. Get one sale. Get one “yes.” It breaks the seal. It makes the ask real but not terrifying.

4. Set a number and stick to it. Price it. Don’t hedge. Don’t say “whatever you think is fair.” That’s not selling, that’s hiding. Pick a number. Say it. If someone says no, that’s fine, it’s information, not a verdict. But you have to say the number. That’s the whole thing.

5. Do it before you’re ready. You will never feel ready to sell. You will always feel like you need one more tweak, one more revision, one more week of “getting it right.” You don’t. The gap between making and selling is where things go to die. So close the gap. Send the email. Post the link. Make the ask. Do it while your hands are still shaking. That’s the job.

Because here’s the truth: the world is full of people who made something and then never asked anyone to buy it. That’s the tragedy. Not the rejection, not the silence. The thing that never got a chance because you were too scared to say “here it is, ten bucks.”

So say it. Say it awkwardly. Say it badly. Say it before you feel ready.

That’s the whole thing. That’s the job. Now go sell your thing.

Talking of selling things… I spend a lot of time helping creatives sell their work because we really need a lot more successful artists, writers, musicians, creatives etc in this world. I’ve compacted my core messages into these two books that are designed to help creatives like you sell their work so they can continue to keep creating.

It’s a book for people who would rather be making things. It’s a book for people who feel a little sick every time they have to promote themselves. It’s a book for people who have a folder full of unfinished projects and a browser full of open tabs and a vague, gnawing sense that they’re doing this wrong.

And what it does is pretty simple. It gives you the system. The rails. The trellis. It walks you through the whole thing, where to put your work, how to talk about it, how to build the channels you own, how to make one thing go further, how to do it all in a way that fits into a life that’s already full. It’s practical. It’s specific. It’s meant to be used, not admired. It’s the book I wish someone had handed me fifteen years ago, so I could have spent those fifteen years making things instead of refreshing analytics pages.

Because that’s the goal. That’s the whole point. Not to be great at marketing. To be great at making, and to have a marketing system that quietly, efficiently, boringly makes sure the right people find you.

You didn’t become a creative so you could spend your life in a spreadsheet. You became a creative because you had something in you that had to get out. And the system is how you protect that thing. The system is how you keep it alive. The system is how you get to keep being the person you actually are.

It’s called Digital Marketing for Creatives, and I’m asking you to buy it.