The solo creator season I’m in right now

“Intentional days create a life on purpose.” — Adrienne Enns

There’s been a clear turning point in how I want to create.

For the first time in a while, the focus of my work, the direction of my brand, and the ways I plan to earn all feel aligned. Now it’s just a matter of building it: showing up, putting in the work, and making it all happen.

This season isn’t about chasing every opportunity or hustling for quick wins. It’s about laying the foundation for something long-term: a brand and creative business that reflect how I want to live, where I want to be, and what I actually care about. 

It’s also about letting go of the things that no longer fit, like old frameworks, unnecessary pressure, and paths that lead away from myself.

Here’s a glimpse into what’s taking shape right now and where I’m headed.

Planting seeds

Lately, I’ve felt things quietly falling into place. It’s not about doing something huge. It’s about showing up in ways that feel honest and doable.

I’m focused on few key pillars:

  • This blog: A space to share longer reflections like this one ― the behind-the-scenes of building something small, thoughtful, and rooted in real life.

  • Waypoints: This remains my creative home base ― my personal email dispatch where I reflect, connect, and share insights with a growing community. It’s where ideas take shape and the conversations happen. Join the list

  • Instagram: I’m using it more sparingly these days ― sharing glimpses from my adventures, split-season life, and creative work when it feels right, not just to keep up.

  • Bluesky: I’ve been using it as an experiment in doing social media differently ― to think out loud, share what I’m working through, and connect without the noise. 

  • Affiliate partnerships: I’m only reaching out to brands I actually use and love. No random promos ― just honest recommendations.

With a few more in the works:

  • Low-key UGC: Nothing scripted or salesy ― just honest photos and videos that look and feel like everyday life. Keeping it real and unpolished as I find my voice on camera.

  • Seasonal offerings: A few ideas are taking shape ― gatherings, creative drops, and virtual spaces to reflect, reconnect, and move with intention.

  • A long-held business idea: I’ve been sitting on an idea for years ― one that connects running and local experiences. It’s something I want to roll out when the time feels right.

  • Side gigs with soul: I’m pursuing side hustles that align with my lifestyle ― creative, flexible, and rooted in what I genuinely enjoy.

While I don’t have every detail mapped out, the path is starting to feel clearer. I’m planting seeds and moving forward with what feels good.

Putting down roots

This season feels like laying the groundwork ― the stuff no one really sees, but that makes everything else possible.

It’s the patient work of building foundations. Of showing up to write when no one’s reading. Of sending the weekly email even if it feels like it’s just echoing into the void. Of continuing to believe in the long game even when the results aren’t immediate.

This is root work. The quiet effort before something bigger blooms. It’s not glamorous, but it matters. Because without roots, nothing can grow.

And alongside all this building, I’ve also been quietly letting go.

Like shedding old layers, I’ve been releasing what no longer feels like mine to carry and creating space for a steadier kind of growth. 

I’m stepping back from the noise of hustle culture and the pressure to “do it all.” That constant push to grow fast or chase every opportunity doesn’t align with the mindset I want to keep.

Instead, I’m giving myself permission to move at a more sustainable pace. One that leaves room for thinking, experimenting, and actually enjoying the life I’m creating.

This season matters because I’m not chasing more. I’m choosing depth over speed, meaning over noise, and authenticity over approval.

The slow bloom

I’m in a season where traditional markers of progress don’t really apply, or at least, they don’t tell the whole story.

I’m letting go of the belief that success has to follow a certain path or look a certain way. More and more, I’m learning to trust my own rhythm and to define progress on my own terms.

I’m not chasing follower counts or big revenue goals right now. I’m not measuring my success by how busy I am or how many things I can cross off a list.

Instead, I’m paying attention to the smaller, quieter signs of life: the spark of a new idea, a moment of clarity during a run, the satisfaction of finishing something that felt like it mattered, even if no one else sees it. These are the markers I care about now.

And maybe most importantly, I’m loosening my grip on expectations ― the ones I’ve placed on myself and the ones I’ve absorbed from others ― so I can create something that feels honest and rooted in who I am.

It’s less about what I’m walking away from, and more about what I’m opening myself up to becoming.

I’m learning to track progress by how often I return to the work. By how at home I feel in the systems I’m building. By how much space I leave for curiosity and real connection.

It’s a different kind of growth: slower, but more aligned. And it feels a lot more like the life I actually want to live.

What grows here

Looking ahead, I’m focusing on showing up consistently and trusting the slow build.

I plan to keep sharing stories, lessons, and moments from the trail and my creative work, letting the journey unfold without rushing the outcome.

I’m open to collaborations that feel aligned and thoughtful partnerships that reflect what I care about and how I want to show up in the world.

And that quiet idea I’ve carried for years? It’s still there, steady in the background, waiting for the right mix of timing, energy, and space. I don’t know exactly when it will take shape, but I know it’s coming.

More than anything, I’m rooting myself in this season of possibility, trusting that the work I’m doing now is the foundation for everything I want to create.

If you’re in a similar season ― building something small, showing up when no one’s watching, letting go of what no longer fits ― I see you. This part of the journey is often quiet, but it’s where some of the most important work happens. Keep going.

That’s all for this one.

TLDR: Roots before blooms ― a season of quiet building and gentle letting go.

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The version of you that doesn’t need proving

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Embracing place and purpose in a new chapter