You’d never let a kiln go a year without maintenance. So why does the studio's manager keep getting cut from the budget? Here’s why your own care is part of the work, not a reward for it.

Years ago, as a rookie salesperson full of self-doubt, I wrote a commercial. It wasn’t for Instagram or a website. It was for me. Here’s the exercise, why it works, and how to use it to write the commercial for your studio too.

There’s a moment in every studio owner’s journey when the work changes. The doors are open, people are paying you, and the business has outgrown what you can run on instinct. This is when you stop being a maker with a studio and start being a CEO.

You can be talented, experienced, and fully booked, and still price your work like you’re asking for a favor. That isn’t a skills problem or a market problem. It’s a belief problem, and it’s one of the most expensive ones a creative business can have.

There’s a lie that keeps talented creatives stuck: that you’re supposed to feel ready before you move. We didn’t have a finished space, a polished plan, or a perfect launch. We had a backyard shed and a phone that kept ringing.

I’ve spent most of my career creating wealth for other people, and I was good at it. That was exactly the problem. One conversation with a CEO made it clear it was time to build my own, and it gave me five questions I now ask every studio owner.