I am a practicing artist of 12 years across different countries, and I’ve spent years working in marketing and communication. I know the tension that artists meet when wanting to do their “marketing.” I’ve worked with artists, tried a lot myself, and come to realize that marketing for artists (and for creative industries in general) is different from the classic marketing rules.
In this article, I would like to open up the topic of marketing for artists, with everything that comes with it: the doubts, differences, and uniqueness of communication. Showing some misconceptions that artists have about typical marketing tactics and explaining the uniqueness of creative marketing. Ending with some thoughts on what artists can do to start better communication of their work to attract more of the right people in their community and create visibility that would be nourishing, not selling out.
The missing link
I personally think that communication is important, as most art schools and MFA programs focus intensively on studio practice and theory. Yet, young artists don’t learn much about presenting themselves, showing their work, talking and writing about their art outside of art institutions and artist statements. They are not taught the business side: marketing, sales, and finance management. As a result, many artists enter the field not prepared to engage in branding or commercial strategy, which is still required in the art world. Artists and universities still hold the idea that art is an exception to norms of production, advertising, and marketing. But with more opportunities, we have more competition and a diversified market.
As an artist, you can operate in the realms of art institutions and art grants or have been lucky to meet gallery representation very early on, who takes care of the marketing. But most of us develop personal presence online, taking control of marketing and content creation to sustain ourselves and therefore create better art.
We are part of the economy, and we are part of communication with others. We can at least try to make this communication a bit better. Good communication helps to stay in touch with people you met through exhibitions, projects, events, residencies. It gives time for potential collectors to get to know you and your works and finally make the decision to buy them.
For me, communication is a very holistic practice — it’s not just about selling and connection, but also helps to understand myself and create new projects. With every new content, I think why I do it and what I want to say. It helps to connect with people who truly can understand my work and, of course, create more opportunity for projects.
This isn’t about “evil marketing.”
It’s about connection. It’s about self-knowledge. It’s about communicating in ways that help new ideas form and new projects take shape.
Part 1 - The marketing playbook vs artist
I often sense an unspoken expectation: that there must be some rule or hack to grow an audience and sell out all artworks.
I’d like to begin by addressing some misconceptions about marketing as we know it, and highlight the parts we, as artists, can keep in mind before jumping into developing creative marketing for ourselves. Later, I’ll explain what creative marketing is and how it differs.
When I work with artists, I often sense an unspoken expectation: that there must be some rule or hack to grow an audience and sell out all artworks. As if there’s a secret we’ve been hiding—one that might feel a bit like “selling out,” but still somehow works.
Unfortunately, there is no such trick.
Big companies don’t succeed just because they know something special or have massive ad budgets. They succeed because they have the resources to run a high volume of experiments. They try and fail faster. They can afford in-depth research, consumer interviews, market analysis—and then launch ten different ad versions just to see which performs best. From there, they optimize. But even then, success doesn’t come from one ad: it’s the result of an entire ecosystem: events, diverse campaigns, influencer partnerships, physical placements, long-term strategy. All built on years of industry knowledge. And even with all of that, they can still fail.
Meanwhile, what these companies market is usually simple: a drink, a service that solves a common issue, a convenience product, something people already need and understand how to engage with.
But an artist is often doing everything alone: every post, website update, piece of communication, conceptual development, experimentation. And they’re working with a more complex subject: artwork rooted in personal vision and identity.
We can’t compare ourselves to a brand or success story. It takes time to figure out what works when you’re doing it all on your own. The value of the artwork doesn’t lie in the piece alone, but in your history, process, concepts, and the boundaries of what you feel safe or comfortable sharing.
Art is already a complex act of self-expression. So marketing, too, becomes an act of self-expression.
That’s why we draw a distinction between conventional marketing playbooks and creative marketing.
Traditional marketing is built on simplifying a message and repeating it over and over with slight variation, and a strong focus on consumer needs.
It’s true that nearly every industry claims their marketing is somehow “different.” SaaS lives in a world of pain points and solutions, its marketing is designed for problem-aware audiences moving through funnels toward conversion. Web3 needs to build trust and educate before anyone converts. Consulting, coaching, and B2B services are often obsessed with lead generation. Legal marketing builds on authority. Each field has its nuances and tone, but most still follow the same foundation: define the target audience, clarify the value, repeat the message, optimize what works.
Creative marketing, on the other hand, is more like translating the artist’s world into social communication. It centers on narrative, values, and curiosity. It’s more flexible and more personal. And often, creative marketing draws on psychology: understanding what feels authentic or bearable to share, because it becomes part of your expression. It’s not a separate task; it’s you.
Four foundations worth borrowing
Before diving deeper into creative marketing, though, it’s worth learning from the foundations of classic marketing playbooks. Even if we sometimes dismiss it as manipulative, it actually works on basic principles that build trust between you and your audience.
I like to focus on four painful but powerful pillars:
Simplicity (clarity), consistency, experimentation, and relevance.
Simplicity / Clarity
And trust is what we need.
We often overthink what we do. Naturally, we want to explain—but that often leads to messy messaging, and confusion. Big companies figured this out a long time ago. They simplify their taglines and advertising, even if those messages evolve over time. They make their product accessible through every channel.
And it’s not about adding a flashy “buy now” button, but you need a website where people can clearly find your latest works, your story, and your archive. A place where your social media links and contact email live.
We don’t work in isolation. We present our work to people who know us—and to many who don’t. Audiences find us through social media, referrals, exhibitions, and events. When someone lands on your Instagram or website, do they understand or feel intrigued by what you do? Can they actually figure it out through all the layered messaging?
For every business or creator, it’s essential to define and explain what you do in just a few words.
When you post your artworks, is it clear what they are? Do people know they can buy them? Do they know how to contact you? Do they leave with more questions, or they already get answers just by looking at your profile?
Cliché but true: clarity builds trust. And trust is what we need. That little feeling of comfort that makes someone take the first step toward you.
Often, when artists don’t sell through social media, it’s simply because the work isn’t shown clearly as something tangible or available. There are no dimensions, no materials mentioned, no sign that it’s for sale. Or maybe the artist never shows the work in a home, which could subtly suggest it’s collected.
What’s obvious to us is not always obvious to others. And it’s important to find the core of what you do and to teach it through all your content: your website, portfolio, and social media.
What do you do? How do you do it? What’s the core message you explore?
Many artists are actually very clear in their messaging, even if they don’t say it directly. Think of Andy Warhol, Marina Abramović, or Sophie Calle. There’s something they do, and there’s another message they express through what they do.
Yet, many other artists get stuck in their communication, overwhelmed by the amount of thoughts and concepts, unsure how to present them.
On the flip side, some artists create multiple social media accounts, trying to communicate different angles of their work, simply because they don’t know how to unify it or how to simplify their message.
In both cases, it’s not a great strategy.
It’s completely normal to feel this confusion, especially when your work is layered. But the solution isn’t to fragment the message; it’s to clarify the core and let everything else orbit around it.
Consistency
Brands are consistent for a reason, and they repeat themselves relentlessly. They have teams, budgets, and strategies. But more than anything, they commit to saying the same thing in a thousand ways.
But what they really do is stay constant in their messaging and in how they show up. They repeat their core idea over and over, from different angles, until we remember them—and start building associations with them.
We can do the same thing—on our own scale. By simply showing up.
Even when we’re still figuring out what works, it’s important to keep showing up, even if every post looks different.
Social media isn’t a fixed idea. It’s not a website, where everything needs to be curated and final (though it’s also okay to update those). It’s not an article, where everything has to be said in one perfect post. Social media is alive. You post constantly, across different formats. You tell your story over time, in fragments.
So instead of volume, think about cadence:
- What kind of rhythm feels doable for you?
- What parts of your practice can you share regularly, without draining yourself?
- What’s the core idea you want to keep returning to, in different ways?
Your questions, your tone, your recurring obsessions become your consistency. And gradually, it builds into something: a feeling, a narrative about you, your work, your world.
That’s what consistency gives.
It reminds people you exist.
And each post adds another layer to the story.
Experimentation
… it’s okay to do it in a more personal way…
As mentioned before, big brands have the budget and time to run ongoing experiments to see what works and what doesn’t. It’s not a one-time activity. It happens constantly, with every new season, product, and campaign.
Experimentation is still possible on our own, just on a different scale. And it’s okay to do it in a more personal way: to play with content, advertising, or collaborations, to reflect, and to track what works and what doesn’t.
There are three main forces to keep in mind:
- You – your comfort zone, which often isn’t clearly known. Your abilities, your interests, your self-understanding—all of which shift over time. You might assume you’re uncomfortable filming yourself, only to find that you actually enjoy it—just not in the way you thought.
- Audience – we all have different kinds of followers. They respond differently to various posts. What resonates with one group might be invisible to another.
- Time – social media changes. Algorithms shift. Trends come and go. Even your own timing and “luck” fluctuate. Where once a new post could reach strangers, now it might only reach your regular followers. If they see it at all.
- To discover what works for you, what resonates with them, and what fits right now.
- To try new formats, tones, messages.
- To test boundaries—not just artistically, but communicatively.
Some content might hit all three targets—yourself, your audience, and the moment—for a while. Then suddenly, it stops working.
That’s just the shifting nature of things. The more you experiment, the more data you gather, not just about your audience, but about yourself.
And over time, that becomes a compass. Even if it’s a messy one.
Relevance
As artists, we often drift into side-topics—our moods, frustrations, politics, meals, memes. And sometimes that’s part of our brand.
Relevance doesn’t mean chasing trends or trying to catch every wave of hype. It means staying connected to what you do. Because not every kind of content will help you connect with your audience.
The content you create needs to be authentic about you, like a brand, but also about your work and your values.
Think of Coca-Cola. They don’t post about spirituality, and rarely about recycling, even though they have programs related to it. Their main messaging stays focused: happiness, holidays, sharing moments, and of course, the drink itself. Everything they communicate reflects their product and the associations they’ve built around it.
That’s what brands do well: they focus. They build a world around what they do and stay relevant to themselves. Through branding and strategy, they align their message and keep their communication consistent and clear.
As artists, we often drift into side-topics—our moods, frustrations, politics, meals, memes. And sometimes that’s part of our brand. But the more you know what your core story is, the easier it becomes to decide what’s relevant, and what’s just noise.
And more
… we can’t fully adopt classic marketing. Because often, it directly conflicts with our authenticity, and with the emotional, conceptual, and unpredictable nature of art.
We can also borrow useful tools from classic marketing, like defining brand essence (keywords, values, colors, feelings, core messages, mission), identifying a target audience, and building a content strategy. It’s a more systematic approach that helps us create a framework and understand both what we do and who we do it for.
Personally, I use a content strategy. And over the years of my art practice, I’ve learned who my most responsive audience is, who engages with and buys my work. Working this way gives me a sense of direction and comfort. But of course, this approach may not suit everyone. Still, even if you don’t follow a full system, keeping those parts in mind can help when learning how to communicate more clearly. Eventually, that understanding can be shaped into a personal version of marketing.
At the same time, we can’t fully adopt classic marketing. Because often, it directly conflicts with our authenticity, and with the emotional, conceptual, and unpredictable nature of art.
This is where the tension gets real
…you can’t promise what a painting or a performance will “do” for someone
Traditional marketing leans toward hype, self-promotion, and polished sales pitches, tactics that can make an artist feel like they’re betraying their creative identity. Unlike commercial products, the value of art is emotional. It’s personal. It’s subjective. It’s not easily explained in bullet points.
As one arts management expert puts it:
“One of the challenges of closing a sale on an arts experience is that its value, quality, or utility can’t usually be known in advance… it’s only in or after the moment of actual experience that anyone can determine if that promise was fulfilled.”
In other words: you can’t promise what a painting or a performance will “do” for someone the way you can with a gadget or a service.
People buy art for emotional resonance. For meaning. Not just for decoration or utility.
These impacts are deeply personal and hard to capture with classic marketing language.
While traditional marketing emphasizes benefits, solutions, and mass appeal, art is about connection, mystery, uniqueness. It carries the context of the artist, the history of the process, and the feeling of being part of something that can’t always be named.
Yet, as we’ve seen, certain parts of traditional marketing are worth holding onto, especially as we move toward a more intuitive, personal approach. The goal isn’t to reject one or fully embrace the other, but to find a synergy that supports both clarity and authenticity
Part 2 – Creative marketing, aka marketing for artists
We may use social media to translate our world outward, but before we do that, there’s inner work required.
While classic marketing “best practices” sound good on paper—structured, strategic—they can make you feel like you’re turning your practice into a COSCO aisle: pushing products and prices instead of ideas and depth. And that’s exactly where many artists freeze: unsure how to speak without either selling out or disappearing.
That’s why classic marketing strategies aren’t always suitable for artists. Some foundational frameworks can be useful, but they aren’t enough. What we need is creative marketing, a form of communication that respects the artist’s inner world, personal limits, and unique voice.
Creative marketing is about your personal vision, your story, and the internal work it takes to figure out what feels right—and what doesn’t. It starts with questions like:
- Why don’t you want to post something?
- Why do you hesitate?
- What makes you feel comfortable, or deeply uncomfortable?
Where traditional marketing for products asks:
“How do I sell this?”
Creative marketing in the artist world asks:
“How do I share this in a way that feels true, and makes someone feel something?”
For artists, creative marketing isn’t just a branding or positioning strategy. It’s a continuation of the work itself. Because art is personal, promoting it becomes personal, too. That’s why artist communication is often more layered. It’s a richer story—one that only the artist can tell.
We may use social media to translate our world outward, but before we do that, there’s inner work required.
And that inner work often brings tension.
The two worlds artists live in
Marketing can feel deeply conflicting. It stops many artists from communicating at all. Why? Because we live in two contradictory worlds at once.
One is the pure, almost sacred space of creation: where ideas come first, where the work speaks for itself, where art feels separate from capitalism. Art schools and institutions often reinforce this, encouraging a belief that true art shouldn’t be marketed, priced openly, or “sold.”
The other world is fully capitalist: artists sell their work, apply for funding, take part in the economy. They need visibility and communication to survive and grow.
So, if you engage too much in marketing, you risk being seen as too commercial. If you avoid it completely, you limit your opportunities to make a living.
Even artists who want to improve their communication often feel stuck in this psychological and emotional conflict that deserves real attention.
Marketing begins as a practice shaped by your own boundaries, desires, and way of being in the world.
But this contradiction isn’t something we need to solve. We learn to live with it. The real work often happens in between. Between the purity of creation and the reality of needing visibility and support. That space, as uncomfortable as it can be, is where most artists actually operate.
Some artists feel completely at ease sharing prices and promoting their work openly. Others prefer more subtle, quiet ways of communicating. Some love storytelling and being visible on camera, while others feel best letting the work speak on its own. There’s no one right way. What matters is understanding what feels true for you.
This in-between space is the ground where your communication grows. Your visibility, your strategy, your voice: they all emerge from this space of tension and complexity. And because this space is personal, everyone’s version of it looks different.
This is where your marketing begins, or your communication, or whatever you choose to call it. Not as a clean formula, but as a practice shaped by your own boundaries, desires, and way of being in the world.
Personal boundaries and creative strategy
Promotion is personal. And when your work is self-expression, the way you present it should be an extension of that expression. There’s no one-size-fits-all strategy playbook, because this is more like a process of finding what feels authentic.
It’s an evolving relationship between your art, your voice, and your chosen medium.
I’ve met many creatives who want to improve their social media but feel blocked internally and externally.
Not everyone is comfortable speaking to a camera. Not everyone has the gear to make polished videos. These limitations matter, and they should be respected.
So we build a creative strategy based on those limits, not in spite of them. We start where we are and take small, manageable steps.
Over time, those steps lead to change. A few posts later, you may feel comfortable doing voiceovers. A few months later, maybe a face-to-camera video. It’s an evolving relationship between your art, your voice, and your chosen medium.
Translating your world
You’re not “selling a product.” You’re communicating your truth.
At its core, creative marketing is about translating your artistic world into a new medium: Instagram, a newsletter, a website, or whatever form makes sense.
Your artwork is the main property. But most people won’t experience it in real life. They won’t ask you questions in person. They won’t attend every show.
So instead, we break it down and communicate it piece by piece:
- What do you make?
- Why do you make it?
- How do you do it?
- What materials do you use?
- What stories lie beneath it?
- What’s the process, the ritual, the philosophy behind your practice?
You’re not “selling a product.” You’re communicating your truth. You’re crafting meaning and inviting people to share in it.
In creative marketing, copying commercial tactics doesn’t make sense. Creative strategies are focusing on expressing the value of your work in a way that feels aligned with who you are. Storytelling, presence, consistency, and emotional truth, but done your way.
You show people how to feel your work through:
Your words,
Your visuals,
Your choices,
Your behind-the-scenes,
Your rituals, obsessions, struggles,
Your aesthetic,
Your questions,
Your process.
There’s no single right way to do this. Creative marketing is a slow, evolving practice. It will still need a structure, a framework, but one that is meticulously tailored for you.
It means speaking more clearly. It means becoming more yourself, visibly.
When we approach communication not as a performance, but as part of our creative expression, we give ourselves permission to be both artists and participants in the world.
To be visible without losing depth. To be intentional without becoming artificial. To be present, in the way only we can.
You don’t have to turn yourself into a brand. Just find your own rhythm, your own language, your own way of being in conversation with the people who are waiting to connect with your work, even if they don’t know it yet.
As a result, that presence becomes a recognizable personal brand, just like many artists develop over time.
Creative marketing, at its best, isn’t separate from the art. It’s the next part of the story.
Part 3 - Where do we start?
Creative marketing is a form of storytelling, but not a polished narrative. It’s a lived presence of communication, a way of inviting people into your world without trying to convince them of anything.
It’s about curiosity, clarity, and care (not perfection).
Yet before we develop it we can start from a simple step: audit.
1. Audit - Not romantic but practical
The goal is to see what we have and what we’re working with. Nothing fancy, nothing over-creative, just the baseline: your art. But on social media, “your art” means the pictures of your work. And even if your artwork is great, the image might suffer from bad lighting, poor scanning, or a confusing caption. Plus, you, as the artist, are represented through your bio and feed, and that can also feel unclear or chaotic.
We need to do an audit of your social media and ask:
- Is it clear what you do?
- What kind of work you post?
- Are the image quality and presentation strong enough to reflect the quality of your work?
- Do you offer even a minimal explanation or context?
We’re not aiming for perfection, just good enough clarity.
Yes, this is harder when you work conceptually or across mediums. But clarity doesn’t always mean direct explanation. It can also be intriguing, evocative, or inviting.
Next, we move to the hardest part:
2. Understanding yourself
This means digging into the duality, the fear of being seen as “not serious” if you post a reel on Instagram. Or worse, of looking commercial, cringe, not original, or just not cool. This fear is the biggest obstacle, and it deserves respect and investigation.
Start with what you already have: your artist statement.
What is your work about?
What’s the core of it?
From what angles do you approach it?
Why do you do it at all?
Then consider format. What would feel okay to post—not necessarily what you did before, but something new that pushes your boundaries just a little? Something that adds to the story of your medium, your themes, your motivation?
You don’t need to pretend it’s not scary. You don’t have to act like social media is beneath you.
Admit that you’re afraid to be cringe. Talk through that fear with your therapist (or ChatGPT).
Then find a small first step: something honest, doable, and relevant to you. Something that helps you take a small leap into showing more of your background.
The more we’re authentic, the more we connect.
And yes, this part is the hardest.
You might say, “I don’t need this.” But if you’ve read this far, it probably means you do want to improve your communication. You want to connect with people who align with your work and values.
The almost cliché truth in marketing of any kind, regardless of industry, is that good communication isn’t about reaching everyone. It’s about finding the right people, and allowing them to find you. Your story might bore some, but deeply inspire others. That’s good.
It’s important to let go of unnecessary followers and cultivate stronger relationships with the ones who care. Because when people care, they engage, they support, they collect, and they really appreciate your work. And honestly, isn’t that the most beautiful feeling? To be understood and appreciated?
So what exactly should you do, say, or post? That’s your journey.
You can observe others for inspiration, but ultimately, the answers come through doing. Once you understand the core of your work and begin thinking about how to translate that into content, you will have ideas.
You’re an artist. You always have ideas.
3. Understand what you’re trying to say.
Naturally, that message will evolve as you evolve.
What is your work really about? Can you communicate it?
Through what forms: stories, posts, texts, videos, reels?
What style fits: talking head? Voiceover? Symbolic collage?
Is there something people misunderstand about your work?
Something missing from your artist statement? What feeling are you trying to pass to the audience, and why does it matter?
Sometimes it’s as simple as explaining the physical process of how you make your art, and why it’s important to you. And yes, you can repeat yourself. In fact, you should repeat yourself, just in different ways.
Artists often explore the same essence again and again. The more you repeat it, the stronger your message becomes. Think of Coca-Cola. They don’t reinvent the message in every ad, just shift the frame, over and over again.
We do the same. We look for what we’re trying to say, and we say it, again and again, in new forms. Naturally, that message will evolve as you evolve. That’s part of the beauty. It becomes a growing story. You don’t need to know the whole arc—just like you don’t know what artwork you’ll make in three years. You just need a direction. A sense of where you’re moving.
4. And then: we experiment
We experiment with how we’re telling our story. Because you never know until you try.
You might surprise yourself to discover you’re more comfortable expressing certain things than you expected. Maybe it’s not literal storytelling. Maybe it’s symbolic. For example: when I used to focus on the theme of repetition in life, I shared stories of waves, people moving, traffic, grass swaying. It felt like a subtle extension of my line work.
Later, I realized it wasn’t enough. Now I want to tell more of what I do and why I do it, not in a workshop style, but in a deeper, more conceptual way.
This is how we evolve. We experiment until we find what works for us, and for our audience.
Then we do it again. And again. Because things change. We change. And that’s okay.
We practice it, by creating moments of connection. You experiment. You show people how to feel your work through…
—your words: The way you talk about your work matters. Not just describing what it is, but what it means to you. What moved you. What you were thinking, resisting, discovering. You don’t need a press release. You need a voice. Your voice. Honest, raw, poetic, quiet, sharp—whatever is truly yours.
—your visuals: Not just final artworks, but close-ups, textures, materials, your hands working, the mess, the rhythm. Think of your camera as a bridge—not a spotlight. People can’t touch your artwork through the screen. But they can feel it, if you show them how it breathes.
—your choices: Every detail says something: how you frame your piece, what you wear, what spaces you show your work in, what music plays in your studio. These choices are not superficial. They’re part of the story. They shape the atmosphere people step into when they enter your artistic world.
—your behind-the-scenes: The sketch, the mistake, the ritual, the long day when nothing worked. They’re intimacy. When people see the journey, they feel closer to the result. They stop seeing it as “just an artwork,” and start seeing it as part of a life they can connect with.
—your rituals and obsessions: What do you always do before you start? What’s the color you can’t stop using? What themes keep coming back to you? These things that feel so small or strange to you—they’re gold. They’re human. And they make your work recognizable not just visually, but emotionally.
—your aesthetic and atmosphere: Not just the art, but the whole feeling. The way your page feels when someone scrolls it. The vibe of your studio, your captions, your exhibitions. That atmosphere is what people fall in love with. It’s what makes them stay.
—your questions: You don’t need answers. In fact, the best art doesn’t give answers, it opens space. When you share what you’re questioning, wondering, doubting, people feel invited to reflect too. That’s where real connection lives.
Through all of this consistency is what holds it together.
Consistency makes you visible, not just to the algorithm, but to people.
Not to get lost in the content flood. Not to be forgotten by the people who already care about your work.
Consistency builds familiarity. And familiarity builds trust.
When people see you show up regularly, they get to know you. They understand your tone, your values, your presence. They begin to relax into you. And that trust is essential for collaboration, collecting, commissioning, or any deeper engagement.
Another bonus: consistency lowers the emotional weight of each post. If you only post once a month, that one post becomes heavy. It has to “work.” But if you post more regularly, the stakes drop. You become looser. The energy flows. And with it, so does connection.
Do you need more social media?
Let’s be realistic. It’s better to focus on what you can do than on what you wish you could do. The classic story: you get overwhelmed by trying to “do it all,” and then you do nothing.
So my answer is: no, you don’t need more. You need one good social media platform and a clear, consistent portfolio website.
If you already have structure, content, mental space, and time—sure, build a second platform. But even one account, like Instagram, requires a lot: Posts, stories, reels, interactions, collaborations…
The work speaks, but so should you.
There are other ways to build visibility: ads, press, collaborations.
But communication comes first. Because before ads or press or collaborations, people need a way to connect with your work.And because good communication builds relationships. It helps your existing audience feel more connected, more involved, more with you. The work can speak for itself, but online, people often won’t hear it unless you say something too.
And from there, everything else becomes more possible.
You don’t need to become a marketing expert. You just need to become more honest, more visible, more present in the way that feels right for you. Creative marketing is part of your language and you practice. And like your art, it evolves through time, repetition, reflection, and risk. You don’t have to do it perfectly. You just have to begin—again and again—in your own voice, on your own terms.
