Finding magic in our work is not just about more time: it's about more impact

the colour of this summer crop…

Hello, I’m Laura, a multi-passionate creative strategist, coach and mentor, professional singer and composer and music teacher. I write about our obsession with balance, offer ideas, strategies and resources that help us creatives and share honestly about this life with three noisy, beautiful children. Please subscribe to support my work and to join the community.

Hello my loves,

I’ve been updating my website recently and going through old blogs (side-note: does anyone still have a blog on their website plus a Substack here? How does it work for you?) I stumbled across one I wrote about motherhood. It was lovely: moving, tender, gently humourous, reflective.

It also could have been the exact words I’d write today. Which made my fingers halt their noisy tapping, as I reflected: “Why am I still writing about the same stuff, in the same way, with the same tone, cadence and message that I was five years ago? Haven’t I moved on from this now?”

And then the big light-bulb moment came on (imagines self surrounded by a halo of self-awareness):

Maybe I get frustrated when I’m working, not because I don’t have enough time, but because it doesn’t feel like the work I’m doing is making an impact in the way I’d like: both on others and on my own creative self.

Flowers always make an impact on me, and this hot border at RHS Hyde Hall was no exception.

Like many of the accounts on here, I have more than a passing interest in the concept of “slow living.” The appeal of more calm, more presence, a greater flow of energy in place of the fits and starts of a chaotic life sounds like manna to my calm-starved brain. Yet whilst I am a massive fan of an essential oils-infused candle (I’m making my own this summer as a trial: I’ll do a post on it as it’s both a pleasure and a challenge), the English countryside, my children wearing muted cotton neutrals… the reality finds my son in football kits and my daughter “90s chic”, us living in the suburbs and me being jolted around on a noisy bus and chatting over a flat white. Indeed,

Stacey Langford

wrote a brilliant piece on this that had my nodding along fervently.

Radical Slow Living

I also wonder if I’ve used “slow living” as a subconscious excuse (feels a bit harsh but I’m sticking with it) for having a lack of strategy and energy in my own business. Yes, it’s been a challenging year in terms of time for my company of one (we are trying to move house, we had a third child and technically I was on maternity leave for much of the year, I finished one job, I’ve been fortunate enough to take on more singing work than I could fit in and yet I did). Yes, I’ve had the kind of diary where my coaching brain would be tussling with saying to a client “love this all feels a lot” (an unhelpful observation and not a sign of good coaching or mentoring!).

But truthfully, the mechanisms and logistics of life have generally been manageable. I’ve had childcare, and whilst my time has been squeezed I know that I excel at working in the cracks, at working to a tight deadline, at working in challenging circumstances.

No, rather it’s that I haven’t been willing (and yes, I do say this with self-compassion) to examine that messy middle of an idea. As musicians we have to practice daily to have the muscle memory required of us, and to know the music inside and out. One teacher once said to me:

“brilliant, you can play all the notes correctly and in time. Now it’s time to start to get to know the music itself: to actually start to practice.” That’s a bit how it feels to really pursue something with joy, commitment and to make an impact.

Being a multi-passionate is brilliant, because you can diversify your income streams. This is something I talk to all of my clients about, because being a creative freelancer is joyful and exhausting in equal measure, and knowing there are different ways for us to make money from our brains is a wonderful, reassuring and arguably essential approach. However this approach can often lead to me “picking up and putting down” work: “oh, this singing patch has come in so I’ll just put down that course I’m creating.” “Oh, I’ve got a new 121 client: I don’t have time to really think about my writing this week.”

No more. I don’t want more time to work on my stuff (although uninterrupted blocks of time are a blessing I am missing in the summer holidays). I don’t want to work harder, slogging away in the hope that if I put the hours in I’ll get somewhere. Rather, I am going to work with my creative brain on: I’m going to imagine I’m learning a piece of Bach, and rather than starting at bar 1 I’m starting at bar 101, where the tricky coloratura is, the sparkling fireworks of semiquavers that make my audience and I gasp at their splendour and audacity. And I’m going to smile as I dive into them. Oh, and part of that is going to be a brilliant Substack strategy, with more organised and frequent writing. I can’t wait!

Two other things that were a timely read this week:

I enjoyed

Sarah Raad

delicious bluntness this week: faffing is a core word within my lexicon, and I enjoyed being reminded of the techniques she suggests this week.

Stop faffing & read this

I’m also following along this conversation with interest from

Adam Ming

about how creatives make money.

How on Earth do creatives make money these days?

So, over to you: let’s start a conversation about where you’d like to make an impact, or perhaps what “impact” means to you.

With love,

Laura x

How you can work with me:

I’m updating my website at the moment, but I offer sessions from one-off sessions to working 121 for 6-8 months together, as a creative strategist, mentor and coach. Here’s my Calendly link, or you can book a free call to see if we’d work well together. I’d love to hear from you and there’s never any pressure to work together.