When you Start Treating your Content like your Business’ Art, Everything Changes

On: how shifting your creation energy can move people—and your business—more deeply.

We’re told content is king. That consistency is everything. That social media is just a numbers game—optimize, post, repeat. And sure, metrics matter… but at some point, all the “strategy” starts to feel like performance. Mechanical. Empty.

There was a stretch where I opened Canva like I was clocking in to work.

Make a headline. Craft hook. Add three bullets. Plop a cta.
again tomorrow. and the next day. and the next.
The graphs liked it. I didn’t.

I kept telling myself it was just a season. “heads down.” “do the reps.” but every post felt like a perfectly iced cake made of drywall. technically beautiful. Emotionally? Nothing.

So I did what I always do when something isn’t working: I tried to optimize it. More planning. Stricter calendars. New templates. If I could just tighten the system, surely I’d feel creative again.

No dice, obviously.

When did creating stop being art and start being output?

I knew the moment. I traded the studio for the factory the day I let the ’algorithm’ sit in my creative chair. I kept “showing up,” but the work had no pulse. I was present, but not felt.

It turns out I wasn’t blocked; I was bored. And boredom is what happens when your voice is asked to dress up as everyone else’s.

so I tried something small and a little reckless: I posted the truest sentence in my notes app. 

No carousel, No “value stack,” no camera-ready polish. Just the line that wouldn’t stop knocking.

It landed. not with fire emojis—those are easy—but with ‘me too’, ‘I needed this’, ‘saved for later’. The kind of replies that feel like oxygen.

That’s when I remembered: social media for business shouldn’t be run by a content machine. It should be a body of work. And bodies of work are crafted, not batched.

Here’s what helped me find my way back to the studio ↓

001 / I stopped creating for performance and started creating for statement 

I used to ask, “will this do numbers?” now I ask, “will this leave a mark?”
If a post can be summarized by anyone, it isn’t mine. I wait for the sentence only I would say, then I say it first—before I sand down the edges.

Micro-rule: One line I’m slightly afraid to publish = green light to post.

002 / I changed my rituals on purpose

My “creative hygiene” was pristine and soulless: two-hour morning routine, perfect playlist, perfect lighting, perfectly delayed start. I arrived to my desk emotionally jet-lagged.

So I messed with it. Wake up → creative writing. Anywhere but at a desk

Micro-rule: no ritual longer than the work it enables.

003 / I swapped strategy on paper for awareness on purpose

I’m a strategist-it’s in my title. But I loosened the grip. Instead of building from what’s on the calendar, I started building from what’s the loudest in the room.

A client line that made me sit up? A DM that irked me? Something I can’t stop thinking about in the shower? That’s the seed. The post is just me following the hum until it resolves.

Micro-rule: Message first, format second. If the energy is dead, no format revives it.

004 / I cancelled my creative “have-tos”

I looked at my content calendar and felt my lungs shrink. Weekly series, twice-weekly newsletters, carousels on rotation, reels with captions, three story themes… who was I trying to impress-my future obituary?

I cut 40% in a day. The funny thing about deleting obligations: the space fills with actual ideas. I didn’t become less committed; I became more honest.

Micro-rule: if it survives only because it’s scheduled, it’s dead.

005 / I let repetition do the heavy lifting

I used to fear saying the same thing twice. Now I fear being forgettable. Artists repeat on purpose; that’s how a motif becomes a language. That’s how they build a recognizable style. I rotate my core ideas like a gallery rotates exhibits—same walls, new light.

Micro-rule: Three angles on one belief > Three unrelated hacks.

006 / I kept the edges in

Smartphones trained us to buff every piece of content until it squeaks of perfection. I started leaving the brushstrokes. A slightly messy imperfect graphic. An unfinished thought followed by “more on this later.” A photo with weird lighting that feels like my actual life.

Micro-rule: Of it looks like a brand manual ate it, I went too far.

007 / I measured resonance, not just reach

I still check analytics. I also check my nervous system. Did making this feel like breathing or bracing? Who DM’d me and what did they say? What line got screenshotted into stories? I track those signals like revenue, because spoiler: they become revenue.

Micro-rule: Saves and replies are real currency; my peace is too.

How to Create Content like a Renaissance Rebel

You don’t have to be a “creative.”
You just have to give a damn.

✨ Post what haunts you
✨ Share what you’re obsessed with
✨ Tell the truth no one else is telling
✨ Be funny. Be weird. Be absolutely unhinged if that’s your thing
✨ Make beauty. Make chaos. Make SOMETHING that says “this is what I believe”

That’s what artists do.
And guess what?
That energy is contagious AF.

When you create from that place—not to manipulate, but to express—people don’t just consume your content.
They feel it.
And that’s the kind of feeling that gets remembered.
That’s what builds a movement, not just a marketing funnel.

And that energy? That’s what moves people.

Not just into your DMs.
But into trust.
Into belief.
Into transformation.

How I know i’m back in the studio (not the factory)

I feel lighter after posting.

• People quote a sentence, not my hook formula.

• My feed sounds like me, even when it’s quiet.

• I can explain any post in five words. (today: “art, not output, moves people.”)

And yes, this has been good for business. not because “messy posts convert better” (sometimes they don’t), but because signal converts better. 

When people feel you, they remember you. When they remember you, they trust you. When they trust you, they buy…and recommend.

None of this is about making everything precious. It’s about making it alive. The goal isn’t to perform harder; It’s to transmit clearer. Art doesn’t beg for attention. It creates a moment. A pause. A shift.

If your posts have started to feel like chores, try this: make one thing today you’d be proud to sign. One line. One slide. One proof-of-life. Let it breathe. Don’t fix it. Post and walk away.

Your business content is your body of work.
Let your posts look like it belongs to a living person.
Let it be a little unhinged and a lot true.

The factory will always be there if you want it back.
I don’t.