So I Gave Up on Being a Creating... And Made Everything Instead.
A Neurodivergent Perspective On Being a Creator.
“To Any And All Daring Enough To Read This Post, I Am So, Very Sorry.”
—Batman (Marvel Comics)
Okay, so here’s the thing — I should probably start at the beginning, but my beginning happened like three seasons ago in a completely different multiverse where I was basically just a background character in someone else’s spin-off series. Like, not even the original show — we’re talking deep multiverse territory here. My origin story is basically “Previously, on a show you weren’t even watching...” (Yeah, that’s where we’re at mentally. Just... stay with me here.)
I need you to understand something: I’m not trying to be one of those “I’m not like other people” people because honestly? I’m more like “I’m not like a person” people. And not in an edgy way — more in a “I’m pretty sure I’m a glitch in the universe’s coding that somehow gained sentience” way. You know that feeling when you’re sitting in a room full of people who all seem to understand the unwritten rules of How To Be A Person™, and you’re just there like “ah yes, I too enjoy doing... normal human activities... at the appropriate times”?
I’ve always wanted to be some kind of creator. Actually, no, that’s not quite right — I’ve always been creating something, jumping from project to project like my brain is playing hot-potato with my interests. And it’s not like I didn’t love these projects! It’s just... you know when you’re in the middle of doing something, and then suddenly your brain goes
“BUT WHAT ABOUT THIS OTHER THING, CLARENCE?” and before you know it, you’re six Wikipedia articles deep into a totally different topic about Edo period Japan, wondering why your brain keeps calling you Clarence?
Yeah. That. (P.S. I’d like to think it’s Klarence with a “K”.)
For the longest time, I thought this was a problem. Like, a serious problem. Everyone talks about “finding your niche” and “Batch content” and “it’s not my fault you look like a Clarence.” Meanwhile, I’m over here starting a podcast about DnD Worldbuilding, which somehow led to designing NFT’s (Completely unrelated project by the way… wait.. maybe it doesn’t have to be...), which then turned into trying to figure out why A.I. thinks I should look into medieval brewing— all in the same week. (I wish I was exaggerating. I’m not. Well I am. It was actually two weeks. I’m sorry I lied, I’ll never— you know it might be like years apart. Or wait, was it yesterday…?)
I tried to do the “normal” thing, right? Tried to pick ONE project and stick to it like how Sandra (my mom’s second succulent, not to be confused with Alexandra who my mom’s second, second succulent) sticks to her one job of looking pretty while consuming minimal water. (they are fake by the way.) But here’s the thing — and I cannot stress this enough — my brain has the attention span of a caffeinated squirrel who just discovered Red Bull gives you wings™ (You totally heard that in The Voice didn’t you? You know The Voice — that weirdly smooth announcer voice that extends those “i’s” in that sing-songy kinda way. And now you’re hearing it again, aren’t you? Yeah, me too. I’m sorry.)”
Which reminds me: Did you know squirrels can survive falls from any height because of their terminal velocity? (Now I’m currently thinking about a video game, where you use cannons as weapons and squirrels as ammunition.) This is completely unrelated to what we’re talking about but also somehow feels relevant to explain my creative process.
So I did what any reasonable person would do: I gave up.
No, really. I literally threw in the towel and said, “That’s it. I’m done trying to be a creator. Clearly, I’m not cut out for this whole ‘staying on track’ or ‘it’s called a train of thought not a Dinosaur Gundam of thought’. thing. It’s over. We’re done.”
(Narrator voice: “She did not, in fact, give up.”)
Here’s the thing about giving up — it’s actually pretty hard to do when your brain won’t shut up about ideas. It’s like telling a tree to respect personal boundaries. or asking Karen from r/nicegirls to stop passive-aggressively signing her emails with “Regards” instead of “Kind regards.” (Like, Karen, bestie, you need to calm down, it’s been three years—) No, focus. WHERE WAS I?
Right. Creating things. So I used to think I had a problem with commitment, right? Like, “oh no, I keep abandoning projects, I’m such a failure at following through.” And then I tried to “fix” myself by forcing my creative chaos into those neat little society boxes everyone else seems so comfortable in. You know the ones — they’re labeled things like “Proper Project Management” and “Consistent Content Creation” and “Having Your Sh*t Together Like A Real Adult.”
And that’s when it hit me. (Not the Squirelannon™ The realization.)
What if — and hear me out here because this is either brilliant or sleep-deprived — what if the problem wasn’t having too many interests? What if the problem was trying to force all these interests into separate boxes?
See, society likes boxes. Everything needs to fit neatly into categories: you’re either a tech person or a creative person, a business person or an artist, someone who has their life together or... well, me. But what if we just... didn’t do that?
You see, The world is built for people who can color inside the lines. And I’m over here like “but what if the lines are just suggestions, and also what if they’re not even lines but actually tiny dots that could be connected to make a completely different picture, and oh my god what if we’re all just living in a giant connect-the-dots puzzle that nobody’s solved yet??”
—No! I’m done trying to fit my square-triangle-octagon-möbius-strip self into society’s round holes. Instead, I’m going to do something absolutely unhinged: I’m going to create EVERYTHING. All of it.
I’m not actually a background character who wandered into the wrong show, anymore.
I’M THE WHOLE F*CKING MULTIVERSE ITSELF, BABY!!
And every abandoned project, every random interest, every 3 AM deep dive into trying to see if you can bake a cake out of concrete, which is a good question by the way, until you try to explain it to someone else and realize you’re using interpretive dance to describe a website concept.
So, yeah… That’s what I’m doing now. I’m building what I call “micro brands” — little pockets of concentrated chaos where each of my random interests can live. Think of it like having multiple bad TV shows all set in the same bad universe. Sure, each one has its own thing going on, but they’re all connected by this one chaotic showrunner (me) who occasionally forgets what season we’re in. (and who’s there… and who died… and who came back…)
Is it traditional? Nope. Is it “proper business strategy”? Probably not. (I actually got a digital marketing certificate to figure that out, and let me tell you, that’s a whole other story of spite-driven education.)
But here’s the weird part: it’s actually working. Not in a “I’m crushing it, living my best life, hashtag blessed” kind of way. More in a “Oh, wait, this actually makes sense for my weird brain” kind of way.
And maybe — just maybe — that’s the point. (it’s not.) Maybe sometimes you have to give up on doing things the “right” way to figure out your way. (you shouldn’t) Maybe the solution isn’t forcing yourself to fit into those boxes, but building your own weirdly shaped container that somehow fits everything. (it isn’t)
So yeah, I gave up on creating... and then ended up creating everything instead. Because apparently my brain doesn’t know how to not make things, it just needed permission to make ALL the things.
Is this sustainable? Who knows! Am I still figuring it out? Absolutely. But at least now when my brain goes “BUT WHAT ABOUT...” I can just say “Yeah, sure, add it to the universe” instead of feeling like I’m failing at focus.
And honestly? It’s fun. And awful.
(Oh, and if you’re wondering what happened to that medieval brewing situation— A.I. thinks it’s somehow connected to a project about modern marketing techniques. I don’t know how. I probably broke A.I. My brain works in mysterious ways, and I’ve learned to just go with it.)