Why do I subject myself to this madness of content creation? It’s simple, really. I’ve been in the trenches of creativity long enough to have accumulated a decent stockpile of experience, insight, and a few war stories to boot. But I don’t think of myself as a ‘guru’ or ‘influencer.’ Perhaps I’m more like the village elder who’s seen it all and occasionally dispenses wisdom in between bouts of crankiness.
I create content because I genuinely enjoy helping people, especially those who are either new to the game, trying to crawl out of a creative rut, or just plain clueless. There’s a certain thrill in watching the light bulb flicker on above someone’s head when they finally “get it.” Being brutally honest, it’s also because I’ve been doing this so long that it’s become second nature; it’s like breathing, but with more typos.
Now, when it comes to my target audience, things get a bit murky. My ideal reader is a moving target. Ideally, I aim for those who are brimming with passion and have either drilled down into a super-specific niche or have an overflowing reservoir of content just begging to be organized. But sometimes, these passionate folks are either too busy to keep up a consistent content pace or are drowning in their own material, unsure how to stitch it all together. That’s where I come in, or at least, that’s the plan.
I hope that when you consume my content, you find it useful, insightful, and perhaps even well-told. I want you, dear readers, to see me as someone who can break things down in a simple, easy-to-understand way, even though simplicity has never been my strong suit. I’m a pretty decent storyteller—if by “storyteller” you mean “bullshitter.” But lately, my narrative skills have been, well, let’s just say, a bit rusty. I’ve been grappling with a weird mix of overthinking and underdelivering. Still, I hope that the time you spend with my content feels like a worthwhile investment; I want the experience to be like youy’ve unlocked some secret treasure chest of knowledge and actionable insights. At least, that’s the fantasy I aspire to realize.
Deep down, I want my audience to walk away feeling smarter, more confident, and perhaps even a bit smug about their newfound abilities. I want to coach people into realizing that the best content comes from within, not from some external source of inspiration or, heaven forbid, a motivational quote plastered on a stock photo of a sunset. This is something I’ve wrestled with myself: how do I channel my inner genius without getting tangled up in my own expectations? If I can help others navigate this tightrope, maybe I’ll finally convince myself that I’m still capable of creating something organized, fun, and (gasp) accessible.
As for the kind of content I aspire to create, well, I’m not interested in copying anyone else’s homework. Sure, there are creators out there whose work I admire. But the last thing I want to do is churn out content that reads like a pale imitation of theirs. What I do want is crafting content that’s laser-focused on the reader—content that puts you smack dab in the middle of my experience, seeing the world through my slightly jaded, slightly sarcastic lens.
At the end of the day, I want to feel satisfied knowing that my content has made a difference in how people view their own ideas. If I can help someone realize their potential for creativity—something that will ripple through every aspect of their life, then I’ll consider my job well done. I want people to enjoy and appreciate the process of creation and to watch them grow. But who am I kidding, isn’t it also to feed my own ego in the process? Honestly, most people couldn’t care less about how I feel; they’re only interested in how my content makes them feel. So, if I can make you feel more self-aware and capable, then maybe I’ll have earned a sliver of respect. At the very least, perhaps my essays will get a few likes and shares for my trouble.
~ Amelia Desertsong
