Choosing to be Seen

Note: Curiosity Files are deeper investigations into creative living.

After a wonderful break in Sydney and Melbourne I’m back with another exploration, today’s centred on Boldness and it's impact on our creativity. Last time, I mentioned that I’m working behind the scenes on two ideas around creative support, and both are now up and running. One is The Bold Types meet-ups which I talk about later, the other is your Creative Pit Crew, a way for me to connect anyone looking for support with the people you might need at whatever stage you’re at in your creative exploration. You can find out more here.

And I’m spending my own creative time now on three main projects: writing my second novel, phase two of our garden redesign (the planting) and a bedroom makeover. Yes, that’s a lot, but I thrive on the variety and the juggling.

My aim here remains the same: to understand creative life from many perspectives. I’m so glad you’re here because you can help me by sharing yours. As you read, comment with whatever thoughts or questions arise. This is a shared enquiry and is all the richer with your contributions.

If you prefer to listen just press play, otherwise read-on below.

In a creative life, what is does bold mean?

Having noticed the part boldness plays in my own creative expression and in others whose creative practices are flourishing, I want to understand it more. My instinct tells me that ‘being bold’ is not what people often imagine it to be. Far from fighting monsters (metaphorical or otherwise) or putting on armour and striding out into battle, it is something more subtle, more nuanced. It is different for every creative person, and it usually springs from a well of inner knowing, buried deep beneath layers of cultural conditioning and limiting beliefs. If we can let these things fall away and find a way to reach those most authentic parts of ourselves and bring them out into the light, I believe that is being bold.

Many of us look on in awe at our creative heroes and wonder at their ability to strike out on their own, and follow a thread of an idea without knowing where it will take them. They seem fearless and surefooted and unafraid to go beyond expectations.

You see this kind of boldness in artists with a platform. After huge success co writing with Guy Chambers, Robbie Williams could have stayed safely inside the music people expected from him. Instead, he first broke away from that familiar style and then took a radically new direction. Fans weren’t happy, but he trusted his need to evolve creatively. In hindsight, he admitted there was ego in that shift, yet the deeper truth is that he chose creative freedom over protecting his reputation, and that kind of pivot always takes courage.

Or take Raye, who took her music back after leaving her record label and became fully independent so she could follow her creative instincts and musical influences. She took a risk. It was a brave move and there was no guarantee continued success would come with her, but she backed herself because she wanted the freedom to make the work she felt called to make.

A lesser known artist might already be able make the art they are compelled to make, regardless of how others might perceive it. You could argue that, for them, the stakes are lower: they are yet to build a significant following and so still have the freedom to experiment. But in reality they often share the very same insecurities and concerns with someone who has achieved a level of prominence or commercial success in their field.

Rebecca Lacey^¹ described agreeing to do her first art exhibition as her worst nightmare. When a friend suggested it, she literally hid behind an armchair, saying ‘No. No. I can’t do that.’ And yet she went on to make the exhibition happen. She is a self-confessed introvert, so her version of boldness wasn’t loud or showy. It didn’t come naturally. I’ve explored this story before in the context of support as a mechanism for creativity, but it belongs here too: it’s a reminder that boldness isn’t a personality type. For someone like Rebecca it’s the decision to act even in the presence of fear.

A few years ago, I sensed the need for a change of direction: away from supporting others as a writers’ coach, and towards my own creative exploration. I wasn’t sure how to communicate the shift, or how it would be perceived. I just felt it was time to let go of some of the roles I was juggling, to make space for more creative expression.

My first tiny act of boldness was letting go of my long-established coaching business and changing my social profiles: removing “coach” and adding “creative adventurer”, to reflect that I was stepping into my multipotentialite creative self. Before I made the change, I imagined I might receive judgy comments or feel like I was failing. Instead, after pressing save on those profiles, I felt lighter and clearer, a real sense of relief.

At the time, in the messy middle of that transition, I wondered if people would think I was getting too big for my boots, or worse, that I’d stopped caring about helping other writers to progress. Neither were true, it was more of a rebalancing, and I still put time aside now to support writers through mentoring and more broadly through the podcast too. Looking back, I can see I was experiencing an uncomfortable identity shift.

I also had niggling doubts about my ability to write a second novel, and a fear that it would only be successful if I became highly engaged on social media and built a substantial following. Having been in the corporate world for many years, there was a part of me, a polished persona, that had protected me from sharing my inner, vulnerable self in the name of professionalism. With guidance and support I slowly understood that I could tackle things my way. And that instead of feeling beaten down by all the marketing and social media tactics bouncing round the internet, I was allowed to ignore the noise and make decisions on my terms.

Standing out, truly owning my creative identity, and feeling free to explore multiple forms of expression was exciting, but risky at the same time. To reach people, for them to know you or your work, you need to be prepared to be seen.

Doubts always creep in. Even after releasing two seasons of the podcast and getting great feedback from guests and listeners, I’d been sitting on the video footage from the recordings. So, despite that old pull towards polished perfectionism, and knowing there were glitches in the closed captions and sync issues between the sound and vision, I shared some of the creative nuggets from my episodes as my first ever reels on Instagram. It turns out no one cares if things aren’t perfect. Boldness here was as simple as trying something new, even though the quality wasn’t quite there yet.

With the encouragement of a great support network, and by giving myself permission to discard outdated beliefs and expectations about my skills and talents, I’ve been learning to trust my creative instincts again.

And at the moment ‘Living Boldly’ for me means following those instincts and trying new things. It involves being decisive, embracing the discomfort of not mastering something immediately, and stepping into visibility despite the fear of judgment. It’s about being ready to change direction when it feels right, embracing uncertainty, and allowing myself to feel vulnerable. And most importantly always being true to myself and my own way of doing things.

As humans we fear failure and criticism and letting people down. Listening to our intuition and having a go, without knowing the outcome and sitting in that uncomfortable space of not-knowing, is courageous. And as Rachel Bamber1 says ‘Courage is taking action in spite of fear.’

Most barriers to boldness show up as feelings first. For many of us, those feelings are formed long before we ever encounter a specific creative choice. We absorb ideas about how and when we’re allowed to take up space, who gets to say they are ‘creative’, and what ‘ready’ or ‘good enough’ is supposed to look like. Over time, these expectations stop feeling external and begin to sound like our own thoughts. Instead of exploring any creative activity which appeals to us, we learn to wait. For approval, for certainty, or for someone else to say now would be a good time. Action stalls because permission has become something we expect to receive, rather than something we can claim for ourselves.

And so when participants in Emma Baylin’s¹ singing workshops are fearful of not being good enough because at school they were told to stand at the back and mime, Emma reassures them that everyone can sing, She regularly has people come to her in tears having been bold enough to give it a go and experience the joy of something they would never have considered two hours before.

Even when you know you can sing, you can still be fearful of your voice being heard. Xenia Davis¹ had been singing in choirs most of her life but when one of her colleagues asked her to lead a workplace choir session she was really scared. Then she decided just not to tell her colleagues about her fear and did it anyway. That was her first bold step of many in a career pivot which now has her running four community choirs!

Kevin Chesters¹ reminded me that the definition of creativity is “the production of something new and interesting which hasn’t existed before”. He cautions this is not as simple as it might sound. He explained we have human survival instincts which automatically compete against ‘newness’ or ‘difference’. We have literally evolved to fear them: Xenophobia – ‘the fear of the unfamiliar’ kept us safe from risky or strange behaviour, and so prevented us from being ejected from our tribes or from allowing newcomers to enter. There was safety in numbers and conformity. Neophobia – ‘the fear of the new’ made us strategically cautious around potentially poisonous plants or unknown terrains, where one wrong decision could kill us.

When you try to take a bold step, it often feels as if you are waiting for a clear internal signal that says you are ready. Neuroscience shows that this feeling is only part of the picture. The brain begins preparing for action before you are consciously aware of deciding. Deep in the volition network¹, activity starts to build. This early activity is the brain moving into a state where action becomes increasingly likely. Only later does the conscious mind register this as intention.

This timing gap creates the sense of hesitation many people interpret as a lack of confidence or readiness. In reality, the brain has already begun the process. The difficulty comes from the fact that conscious awareness arrives late to the party. You feel as if you are the one generating permission, but you are actually noticing a process that is already underway. Boldness becomes challenging when the conscious mind overrides or questions this early momentum instead of supporting it.

Seen this way, the struggle to act is a mismatch in timing between the brain systems that initiate action and the part of you that becomes aware of it. Acting boldly is often less about manufacturing courage and more about learning to trust the signals; that your brain has already started to move towards action.

So those doubts I had or that fear Xenia had are perfectly natural and our conscious minds could have put a break on our decisions to act. Instead, we chose to live with the discomfort and follow our intention to act regardless.

This reminded me of a brilliant YouTube clip of ‘Trail Blazing¹.’ It has had millions of views so you may already know it. It begins at a festival when a someone decides to get up and dance on their own, as if no-one is watching. At first most people just stay seated on the grass and look on at the ‘weirdo’. Then someone else joins in and gradually more gather to dance. You get the impression that the onlookers are debating whether to get involved yet – to be part of the early movement and be seen as pioneering or cool. Soon the numbers up and dancing have swelled to include lots of followers; the group on their feet are no longer the minority. Have the reluctant observers missed their chance? Are they now standing out by staying seated?

Once we understand why resistance exists, we can give ourselves permission to act. At a talk I attended on the neuroscience of creativity, Professor Vince Walsh¹ pointed out:

“what most successful creatives have in common is that they really don’t care what you think about what they’re doing.”

Bespoke jewellery designer Ruth Chipperfield¹ talked about the importance of following your instincts. “Sometimes, as a creative person, you just have to have the courage to break out of the narrative and go in a different direction and trust the process that all paths will lead to the right point.”

And Rebecca, after many years of a successful acting career, several published poetry pamphlets and more exhibitions of her art, still doesn’t consider herself to be bold. In all her work she overcomes self-doubt by thinking about it as a connection with another person. She said, “If one person says, ‘I like that,’ then you’ve won. That’s enough to keep going.”

Thinking back again to my conversation with Kevin Chesters on the perceived risks of standing out, he gave some great advice on how to hit the sweet spot when you’re creating something new. If you want to people to notice and follow your work, you will need to achieve ‘Optimal distinctiveness’ – be bold enough to stand out but not so different that people reject your work, or you, for being too ‘out there’.

By leaning into moments of uncertainty, actor Juliet Crosbie¹ sees any discomfort as a sign. “If it feels really raw and difficult and like you’re going to burst into flames, you’re probably on the right track.”

If we can look at failure as an outcome of experimentation, we can embrace it, be curious about it, learn from it. To the outsider that might appear to brave; inside it is just part of the messy creative process. Being bold is accepting the outcome either way.

Last month I organised the first in person meet up of The Bold Types. This informal gathering of creative souls from actors to artists and musicians to designers was the perfect opportunity to share first hand, the part boldness plays in our lives. For some it came down to staying true to our intuition, for others it was that willingness to try something without knowing where it would lead. For one it was even about the act of turning up to meet a group of strangers. Of course, we are now no longer strangers and are already making plans to work together, create together and definitely meet again in the autumn.

Which brings me back to the part support plays in sustaining our creativity. Whether we give ourselves permission to try something new, in spite of any fear of judgement or self doubt, or whether we find encouragement from the company and kind words of others, being bold need not be a reckless or solitary act. It can be as simple as taking that first small step towards something which feels like it might nourish you, and noticing what difference choosing to be seen makes.

Tell me, what does that look like for you?

Pop your ideas and thoughts in the comments and let’s keep learning together.

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¹And if you are curious to explore further, or follow up on the episodes, people and research mentioned, you can find links to everything in the Signposts post which accompanies this piece.