I’ve recently marked 15 years of doing this, of running my business, working on great projects with excellent clients. And here, to celebrate that, are 15 lessons I’ve learned in that time.
1: Solving visual problems means understanding the commercial ones.
In my early days, I used to think design was mostly about making things look pretty. And sure, aesthetics matter. But if the design isn’t helping someone understand, feel, or do something, it’s not doing the job.
The longer I’ve done this, the more I’ve realised that being a good designer means getting stuck into the businessy bits too. You need to understand what the organisation is trying to achieve. You need to know what the audience needs to hear.
What success will look like and how it fits into the overall business plan.
Design isn’t self-expression. It’s problem-solving with a purpose. It’s communication. It’s business. And the better you are at engaging with those bits, the better designer you become.
2: You can never ask too many questions.
Early in my career, I’d get the client brief and jump straight into the fun bit, layouts, colours, illustrations, only to realise a few days in… there was a gaping hole in the plan, or we were solving the wrong problem, or that I hadn’t understood what we were trying to achieve. All that work was headed in the wrong direction.
Now I don’t start anything without asking a big pile of questions first: What are we trying to achieve? Who’s it for? Why now? Why this?
That’s how you discover that a client asking for a ‘simple flyer’, actually needs better messaging. Or brand refresh is a stand-in for a deeper identity crisis.
Good design starts with good questions. And the better your questions, the better the answers. And the stronger the work.
3: Look after yourself.
You are your most valuable asset. If you feel like shit, the work will feel like shit.
I used to think I could keep going, head down, powered by coffee and deadlines. But creativity doesn’t work like that. It comes from people, from brains, energy, and curiosity, and these things don’t run on fumes or willpower.
If I want to do great work, I need to look after myself, mentally, physically, and emotionally. That means getting enough sleep, eating proper food, drinking water (yes, that glass you’ve ignored for three hours), moving my body, and doing things that get me out of work mode and engaging with the real world.
And after struggling with a long period of “I am just bloody over this” induced burnout recently, I respect this lesson even more.
If you feel awful, the work will too, not just for you while you’re making it, but for people on the receiving end. It’ll come out flat and uninspired. And that’s not what anyone’s hiring you for.
4: Systems are your friend
There’s a myth that creatives thrive on chaos, that mess is part of the magic. It’s obviously nonsense. Without systems, I’d be a puddle on the floor, not knowing what to do next, who owed me money, or what the next 3 months in my business might look like. Crazy.
I have systems and processes for everything in my business, from finances and project management to digital files and folders. Plus, of course, there are business reviews and planning, client onboarding, contracts and workshops. All have a system at their core.
Just don’t hand me a piece of paper, that will mysteriously vanish into the ether, never to be seen again.
Organisation builds trust. It makes clients feel safe. It keeps energy focused on the work, rather than searching for the correct file or wondering what you should be doing and when, or if it’s working.
I love being the person who quietly sorts the mess so we can get on with making something brilliant.
5: You’re capable of more than you give yourself credit for.
I’ve had projects that made me want to run for the hills. Requests that felt too big, too complex, too far out of my depth. That’s when imposter syndrome usually swaggers in, zaps my confidence, and disappears with all my self-belief. What a wanker.
But almost every time I’ve gritted my teeth, given imposter syndrome the finger, and said yes anyway, I’ve come out stronger. Not just because I learned a new skill (though that often happens), but because I proved to myself I could. Each time I do it, I rewire a tiny part of my brain and make it easier to say yes next time.
Even when it’s terrifying. Especially when it’s terrifying.
(Though I might still need a lie down in a dark room afterwards.)
6: Solo doesn’t mean alone
I’ve always liked working quietly, head down, music on, no interruptions. I can happily go days without talking to anyone. But over time, I’ve realised that in business (and life) going it alone makes everything harder than it needs to be.
Freelancing is brilliant, but it’s also a pretty solo lifestyle. That doesn’t mean you should spend every day stuck at your desk on your own, though. Please don’t do that. I’ve tried it, and it’s horrible. Go and find some humans to talk to. Join a thing, start a thing, go for a walk and say “hello” to someone. It helps.
Spending time with other freelancers reminds you that you’re not the only one worrying about deadlines or stressing over projects. Connecting with other brilliant professionals – animators, copywriters, developers – means you can take on work that’s bigger and more exciting than anything you could do solo.
And then there are the people who support you: accountants, coaches, marketing folk, or that mate who’ll tell you straight when you’re overthinking. These relationships aren’t extras, they’re part of how you build a business that lasts.
For me, the mix is the sweet spot. A bit of professional overlap, a dollop of collaboration, and some honest support. It all adds up to something steadier and more sustainable than sitting in a room trying to do everything on your own.
7: Everything in your business is your business!
I mean, it’s really freaking annoying, but when you run your own business, nothing is “someone else’s problem.” It’s all yours. And I don’t just mean the fun bits.
I mean the contracts, the invoices, the awkward conversations about money, the tech setups, how the heck social media works, even how you manage your inbox and why the hell your emails aren’t appearing on your phone. Oh, and the WiFi has gone down again…
That doesn’t mean you need to be an expert in all of it. I’ve called on people smarter than me for legal stuff, accounts and dealing with the tax man, marketing help, and website and email problems. But even when you delegate, you’ve still got to keep an eye on it. It’s easy to think you can forget about those bits and focus on the “fun” part. Big mistake. The times I signed a contract without getting advice, didn’t understand what was going on with a tech setup, or ignored my numbers, I ended up stressed, broke, or both.
If you’re a freelancer, you’re a business owner. And your business deserves your full attention. But it’s not all doom and gloom, and more things to add to your to-do list. Once you take ownership of everything, you feel more in control. More confident. More able to ride out the tricky bits because you know you’re on top of the whole picture.
It’s not about doing everything yourself, it’s about being an effective captain of your ship. Ahoy sailor!
8: Stay curious.
The world is full of cool and interesting stuff that will inspire you, make you laugh, make you think, enrage you, and, who knows, maybe even come in handy for a random project that walks through your door three years from now. Plus, it’s helpful to know obscure facts in a pub quiz, so it’s win-win.
The work always gets better when you feed your brain with things outside of design. Science magazines, overheard conversations, history books, daft TV shows, the back of a cereal box. It all goes in. Later, when you’re staring at a tricky brief, your brain starts rummaging and pulls something unexpected out of the pile.
Of course, you need depth, to know your craft, your tools, your process. But you also need breadth. The wider your knowledge, the more dots you’ve got to connect, and the richer your ideas become.
I’ve lost count of the number of client meetings where I’ve been hanging onto understanding by the tips of my fingers, only to suddenly remember some late-night documentary or half-heard podcast. That little nugget can be the thing that makes it all make sense.
Curiosity keeps the well topped up and makes the whole job ten times more fun.
Stay interested in everything. It’s the best creative fuel there is.
9: Know when to say no (and why)
I’ve said yes to projects I knew weren’t right. I’ve ignored red flags because I wanted to be “nice.” Finished jobs I should never have started. And pretty much every single time, it’s drained my energy, wrecked my schedule (and my sanity), and left me wondering why I didn’t just say no.
I’ve done the late-night panics, the weekend scrambles, the “sure, I’ll squeeze it in” or “yeah, I can do that by this afternoon, no problem!” replies that left me wrecked and resentful.
Working out how work works for me was a hefty lesson that took a long time to click. How much can I realistically take on? What kind of projects do I actually want to do? And how can I say no to the ones I don’t, without having to live on baked beans? Finding those answers has helped me keep my sanity (ish) and do work I’m genuinely proud of, instead of sulking my way through another misaligned brief.
Saying no is hard when you run your own business. But it’s the only way to make space for the projects, people, and ideas that are actually worth your time. I try to keep regular hours, be honest about what I can take on, and properly step away from work on evenings and weekends. Though full disclosure: I worked most of last weekend, so it’s still a work in progress. Sometimes the best-laid plans and all that…
Setting limits isn’t about being difficult. It’s how you make sure your time, energy, and brain power go where they’ll have the most impact.
10: Set the Stage for Work.
Being freelance (or working from home) means a lot of the usual “cues” for work mode are missing. No commute, no office to swan into, no real reason to get out of your PJs. Which means getting your head in the game when there’s laundry to be done or sun to be bathed in can be tricky.
That’s why you have to create your own cues. Clothes that make you feel confident. Sitting at an actual desk, not the dining table or, worse, the sofa. Lighting a candle in winter. Playing some loud noughties emo (just me?). Chatting to yourself at the coffee machine (also just me?). Whatever it looks like, they’re all little signals that say: this is work mode, time to get on with it.
Early on, I realised even something as small as wearing shoes made me feel more “proper.” Since then, I’ve collected a bunch of these cues, certain drinks, “work clothes,” and little routines that keep me mostly on track. And after a period of not being able to face going there, I’ve made my office a place I actually want to be. I’ve just added some plants and a ridiculous rope light that syncs with my music – and it’s lifted my mood no end. Sometimes it really is the daftest things that make the difference.
And when those habits start to go sideways, when I find myself working from the sofa, ignoring my desk, showing up in grotty old joggers, that’s a pretty good signal that something is up. Time to sort my space, rethink my habits, or change how I’m working (or what I’m working on) before burnout creeps in. Again.
11: Progress Looks Boring Up Close.
Fifteen years in, I’ve realised that most growth doesn’t feel like growth while it’s happening. It feels like admin. Or routine. Or showing up when you’d rather do anything else. (Why does laundry seem so appealing when you’re avoiding important paperwork?)
Progress doesn’t feel exciting while you’re in it. It’s repetition, setbacks, and showing up even when you don’t want to. It’s the unglamorous, consistent bits. The systems you build, the habits you stick to, the things you commit to over and over that slowly, sometimes frustratingly slowly, move you forward. That’s how you hit the big goals, not through dramatic leaps, but by doing the small, boring things for long enough that they start to add up. Then one day you look back and realise you’re doing things that used to feel impossible.
I’d set myself a goal at the start of the year: a 100kg deadlift. Getting there was just steady work, turning up, making it a priority, doing the sessions even when I didn’t feel like it. Nothing flashy, just showing up over and over until the small gains added up. When I finally hit it this past weekend, there wasn’t a rush or a big moment, just a quiet sense of having reached something I’d worked for. High five and move on.
Business feels the same. You rarely get a big moment of “now I’ve made it.” You just keep turning up, doing the reps, and one day the heavy stuff feels light. Then you start looking for what’s next…
12: It Will Probably Be OK!
Files break. Deadlines slip. Someone panics about a colour. The feedback will make no sense. Whatever you can imagine will probably go wrong at some point (and some things you can’t imagine).
In the early days, I panicked. I thought everything was a disaster. But over time, I learned: this is just how projects go. There is always something. And eventually you learn to trust yourself in those situations, you get to the point where you’ve seen it all before, dealt with something like it and can stare disaster in the face and say “Not today, buddy”.
Most things can be fixed, and the rest usually don’t matter as much as you think. The trick is to stay calm, be methodical, and keep your sense of humour. Clients, and your blood pressure, will thank you for it.
Then go and pour yourself a stiff glass of something as a reward for saving the day. No cape required.
13: Evolution is part of the job.
Nothing about running a business stays still for long. Change is inevitable.
Sometimes that change comes from within, and sometimes it’s driven by the outside world; often it’s a mix of both. Change can be an absolute bastard, but it almost always leads to growth – painful, frightening growth, growth that can feel like failure for a bit, but growth nevertheless.
I’ve had times when I felt I’d lost my direction, my work looked different, I’d stopped enjoying part (or all) of my job, or I was being pulled towards new things. I felt distracted, unfocused, unsure of the ground I stood on. But it wasn’t failure. I was evolving, adjusting, learning, and responding to whatever was happening in my world and the wider one. And ultimately coming out stronger for it all.
New tools, new platforms, new ways of working pop up on an almost daily basis, and pretending you can freeze things the way they were is a shortcut to frustration. Not every twist that some unstable tech-bro billionaire spits out will be right for you (or humanity), but knowing that something is complete bollocks is better than not knowing about it at all.
Experience is great, it’s what gives you confidence and perspective. The trouble is, it can also make you rigid. Leaning too heavily on the old ‘We’ve always done it this way’ or ‘I’ve seen this 1000 times before’ is a sure-fire way to miss something brilliant. The longer you’ve been doing something, the easier it is to stick with what you know works, but that’s not how good ideas happen. I’ve learned to keep a bit of beginner energy alive, to stay curious, to question what I’m doing, and to try things that feel slightly uncomfortable.
The trick is to learn to roll with it. (And don’t let anybody get in your way 🎵.)
14: Work with people who care
There was a long stretch in my career where I said yes to anyone who waved a budget at me. Big bland corporates, vaguely questionable businesses, companies I didn’t believe in. I helped rich businesses get richer, helped put money in the pockets of people who, frankly, didn’t need it or deserve it. All while adding a whole heap of design litter to the world. It paid the bills, but it never sat right. It wore me down if I’m honest.
That all changed when I realised I wasn’t tired of design, I was tired of doing it for the wrong people. People who care about profit, the bottom line or KPIs, rather than people who care about something bigger. So I shifted. I moved towards work that felt good to make. Towards companies and organisations that actually give a shit and want to make things better: charities, not-for-profits, B Corps, ethical businesses, education, arts, music, sport. Clients who see the world as I do, so I can use my powers (such as they are) for good.
The conversations got easier, the work got clearer. I stopped feeling like I was propping up things I didn’t believe in and started feeling like I was making a difference in a good way. Now I choose clients based on more than the brief (and the budget). I look for people and organisations that care about purpose over profit. And man, does that feel much better!
15: Have fun.
For all the stress, the admin, the chasing, the deadlines, and the doubt, being a creative for a living is ridiculously lucky. You get to play with ideas. You get to learn about industries you never knew existed. You get to make things that matter to people. And if you’re really lucky, you might even make a small difference.
Fun is what keeps you going when everything else feels heavy. It’s what keeps the lights on creatively. If you can find the play in the process, the rest gets a whole lot easier, and even the crappy bits don’t feel so crappy.