How to Work, Adapt, and Thrive in a New Creative Era

If you’ve spent any time online recently, you’d be forgiven for thinking the creative industries are finished. Artificial intelligence is coming for our jobs, television is changing, streaming isn’t what it was, music pays pennies,

and traditional media feels fragile. Every week there’s another article, a deep dive video or user comment telling us our way of life is under threat.

Meanwhile, people argue endlessly about capitalism versus socialism, governments versus markets, utopia versus dystopia, as though one perfect answer is waiting around the corner if we all shout loudly enough.

Personally, I think we’re asking the wrong question. I don’t think this is really about left versus right anymore; I think we’re living through something much bigger. We are witnessing the end of one economic era and the beginning of another. Whether my interpretation of history turns out to be exactly right isn’t really the point. The important thing is this: the world many of us grew up in and later built our careers in is changing. And if that’s true, then we need to stop preparing for yesterday’s opportunities and start preparing for tomorrow’s. That might sound frightening, but I think if you can find a way to frame it like this, it’s actually hopeful.

History has always moved in chapters. After the Second World War, governments rebuilt nations, meaning infrastructure, healthcare, housing and public services became national priorities. It was an age of reconstruction. Then came globalisation, privatisation and the internet. Markets expanded, technology exploded, and the creative industries benefited enormously from cheaper equipment, digital tools and global audiences.

Now we’re entering another transition. Supply chains feel fragile, technology is advancing at breakneck speed, artificial intelligence is changing how creative work is produced, and media business models are evolving. Nothing feels quite as stable as it once did. The important thing to remember is that nobody living through a transition realises they’re living through one. It simply feels like uncertainty. The Industrial Revolution felt uncertain, the arrival of television felt uncertain, and the internet certainly felt uncertain. Yet, every one of those changes created entirely new industries that nobody could have predicted beforehand. Creative people have always adapted because we’ve had to.

The biggest mistake I see people making is preparing for a world that no longer exists. They wait for permission, wait for the perfect job, wait for someone to discover them, wait until they’re good enough, or wait until the market improves. Meanwhile, somebody else is already making things, publishing, experimenting, learning and building relationships. One thing I’ve learnt over twenty years is that creative careers rarely arrive fully formed. They’re built one project, one conversation, and one mistake at a time.

When I was younger, I wanted one thing: I wanted to become a sound engineer. In many ways, I achieved that, but here’s what nobody tells you: the job title isn’t really the career. Over the years I’ve become a Dubbing Mixer, Re-Recroding Mixer, Supervising Sound editor, a dialogue editor, a podcast producer, a teacher, a computer technician, a filmmaker, a writer and a consultant. Now I’m building a Substack so maybe I’m a writer?.

None of those things were part of the original plan; each one simply grew out of the previous one. For years I thought I was drifting, but looking back, I was diversifying. That’s an important distinction. The future probably won’t reward people who only know how to do one thing; it will reward people who combine skills.

One of the best pieces of career advice I can give is this: don’t just become good at one thing. Become useful in lots of connected ways. If you’re a sound engineer, learn editing, learn a little video, learn storytelling, understand computers, learn how to communicate with clients, learn how to write, understand AI tools instead of fearing them, and learn basic business. You don’t have to master everything, but every new skill multiplies the value of the others. When opportunities appear, they rarely arrive labelled, “We’re looking for somebody who only knows Pro Tools.” They’re much more likely to say, “We need somebody who can solve this problem.” Become that person.

Whenever people talk about AI, the conversation usually becomes strangely pessimistic. We ask, “What if it replaces us?” Perhaps it will replace some tasks; history suggests every technological revolution has done exactly that. But technology also creates something incredibly valuable: scarcity. If everyone has access to the same tools, what becomes rare? Judgement, taste, experience, empathy, trust, reliability, the ability to tell a story, and knowing when to stop.

Those qualities become more valuable, not less. Clients don’t hire me because I know where the compressor is; they hire me because they trust my judgement. That’s taken decades to build, and no software shortcut exists for that.

One thing I admire about younger creatives is that many of them don’t wait for permission. They build YouTube channels, start podcasts, launch businesses, create communities, experiment and publish. They don’t wait until someone gives them a job; they start creating. That’s a mindset worth borrowing. Likewise, younger creatives can benefit enormously from experience. Older generations have lived through technological revolutions before. They know how industries change, and they know which rules matter and which ones are worth breaking. Energy and experience aren’t competitors; they’re teammates.

Creative industries have always been built on relationships. Not in a cynical way, but in a human way. People hire people they trust, people recommend people they’ve enjoyed working with, and people remember generosity, curiosity, reliability and kindness. Talent gets you noticed, but character gets you invited back. So, stop thinking only about networking and think about community instead. Help people, collaborate, and be interested in other people’s work. Those relationships often become opportunities years later.

Twenty years ago, if you wanted people to hear your work, someone had to let you in, whether that was a broadcaster, a publisher, a record label or a magazine. Today, you can publish almost anything yourself. That doesn’t mean success is guaranteed, but it does mean permission is no longer the barrier it once was. Make things, share them, learn publicly and improve publicly. Your portfolio isn’t something you create after you’ve become successful; it’s how you become successful.

People often talk about manifestation, but I’m more interested in the science behind it than the cosmic parts. Your brain filters an extraordinary amount of information every second. One of the systems involved in deciding what deserves your attention is called the Reticular Activating System. It’s why, after buying a particular car, you suddenly notice that model everywhere. The cars were always there; your brain simply decided they mattered.

Creative opportunities work in much the same way. If you’re constantly looking for collaborations, projects, problems to solve and people to help, your brain becomes better at recognising possibilities that other people overlook. You’re not magically creating opportunities; you’re becoming better at seeing them. That’s a skill, and like any skill, it improves with practice.

For all the conversations about AI, automation and technology, I think we’ve overlooked something. The future won’t simply reward people who know how to use software; it will reward people who know how to work with other human beings. It will reward those who can tell stories, inspire trust, think critically, adapt, lead and collaborate. Technology changes remarkably quickly, but human nature changes much more slowly. That’s reassuring, because those human qualities can be developed.

I know this period feels uncertain; I feel it too and think about it far too much. I’ve watched industries change, business models disappear, and technology transform almost every part of my working life. However, I’ve also watched entirely new opportunities emerge that simply didn’t exist when I started. If you’d told the younger version of me that one day I’d be editing television, teaching students, writing books and publishing essays online for readers around the world, I’d have thought you were mad. None of it was planned. Almost all of it came from saying yes to opportunities I couldn’t see at the beginning.

That’s why I’m optimistic. It is not because I think the future will be easy, because it won’t be, but because I think creative people have always been remarkably good at adapting. We’re problem solvers, storytellers and experimenters. We’re comfortable making something from nothing. Those qualities have survived every technological revolution in history, and I don’t see any reason this one should be different.

The creative industries aren’t disappearing; they’re evolving. The people who thrive won’t necessarily be the ones with the most qualifications or the fanciest equipment. I suspect they’ll be the people who remain curious, keep learning, build relationships, and develop broad, transferable skills. They will be the ones who embrace new tools without surrendering their judgement, and who continue making things when everyone else is waiting for certainty.

Most of all, I think they’ll be the people who remain deeply human. Because while technology may change how we create, it hasn’t changed why we create. People will always need stories in many forms be it, music, films, ideas, laughter and connection. That’s what creativity has always been about. So, if you’re wondering whether there’s still a place for you in this changing world, my answer is yes. There probably always will be. It just might not look exactly the way you imagined. And that’s okay. Mine didn’t either.

Find out more about the work I do here