Do it for her.
The Creative Diaries, Vol. 1
Dear Creative,
Welcome to the very first edition of The Creative Diaries.
There’s a tiny easter egg tucked inside this letter — a nod to the girl who once stayed up late writing online fictions for a certain Thursday-night TV show. Stories that somehow travelled to a million readers across 85+ countries. One day I’ll tell you the whole tale, but for now, just know: she’s still here, whispering encouragement every time I sit down to write.I can’t believe we’re finally here.
Back in August 2024, we took down all our courses from a third-party platform to rebuild everything from the ground up. At that point, I’d hit the worst burnout of my life. For months the goalposts kept shifting as I tried to re-centre, to breathe again, to figure out what parts of my photography still felt true. I permanently closed bookings for weddings, family sessions and events — which created the necessary room for my editorial, brand, interiors and travel work to evolve in the right way.
Then, eventually, something really clicked.
In May this year, I travelled to Los Angeles as a campaign photographer for one of my favourite brands. Somewhere between the work, the whirlwind, and the wonder of it all, I felt an innocent spark return — one I hadn’t felt in the decade since losing my Dad. (The kind of girlhood aspiration you feel when watching Legally Blonde or Princess Diaries … that you can do anything, be whoever you dream of becoming.)
One evening, as we sat at Chateau Marmont, surrounded by celebrities and that unmistakable Beverly Hills shimmer, the brand Director said to me, ‘Travel is an expander’. And she wasn’t wrong.
That trip cracked something open in me — a remembrance, a knowing.
A quiet recognition that my creativity had carried me across oceans, into rooms and opportunities I once only dreamed of.
A career that wasn’t considered to be a ‘real job’ (because how could you be a ‘successful’ photographer and not capture weddings anymore?) – yet, it had taken me further than I ever could have imagined.
My unique creativity, and every tool I’d acquired along the way to support it, was the key all along.
In that moment, I remembered who I was building all of this for … and why.
My inbox was full of messages from other photographers and aspiring creatives throughout that trip, all looking up to the career opportunity with such wonderment, and it made me realise:
I could be part of igniting the same hope, empowerment and alignment in other creatives. I already had.
What if they didn’t have to go through the burnout, or soul-destroying nightmare clients, or spinning their wheels trying to figure it all out, trying to make it work – because there was something that empowered and validated creative careers, and said: ‘yes, you can make a successful career out of this – let us help you, teach you, cheer you on!’
(We could get a bit dramatic, and say I felt a responsibility to help liberate creatives from the matrix so to speak … )
Why is it that ‘creative’ avenues are always the most frowned-upon career choices – and yet one of the things we, as a society, historically end up celebrating and idolising the most? ‘Because there’s not room for everyone to succeed,’ they’d caution you.
But I’m here to call bullsh*t on that. If I’d been too spooked, even by the other big-name photographers in my region when I started, I would never have been sitting in that room in Hollywood, surrounded by people I’d seen in films and heard on the radio my whole life.
In this day and age, there is actually room for everyone.
So I came back with renewed determination.
The plan was to re-launch on 11/11 this month (and my spiritual friends will understand the symbolism).
But on the Sunday before launch, I collapsed against the trolley in supermarket carpark. A brutal ear infection from prolonged cold, wind and rain exposure. I was stressed and completely run down, but more worried than anything; mostly that people would think I was full of sh*t if I missed another launch date again. Between antibiotics and a heat-pack pressed to my head, we pushed through.
And then, this week, we quietly pressed publish.
No fireworks. No countdown. Just a gentle exhale as the website went live. Albeit, six days later than I’d hoped, but exactly when it needed to. I didn’t even clock the exact minute it happened. All I remember is the feedback flooding in, the kindness, the excitement, the grounding sense of yes … this is right. And, of course, those notifications pinging in my emails, of students signing up for our new course The Hobbyist Photographer. (Hello, new students! I’m SO excited you’re here!)
It felt like the right moment to open the doors again — gently, intentionally, and with a steadier sense of who I am as a creative and what I want this space to hold for all of us.That’s why I created The Creative Diaries: a quiet corner each week to share the behind-the-scenes, the lessons, the resources, the prompts, and the real stories of building a creative life. A place for us to grow together, at a human pace. (There’s a few goodies for you below this letter –– and others like freebie downloads to come, starting next week!)
Thank you for being here for the first issue, it means the world.
Wherever you are reading this, I hope you take a moment today to breathe, soften your shoulders, and honour the creative inside who brought you this far.
Until next week,
Georgie x
This Week’s Creative Prompt
Do it for her.
This was the mantra I carried all year. When things felt heavy, when my confidence wobbled, when I questioned everything.
Do it for the girl in school who dreamed big.
Do it for the young woman piecing her identity together.
Do it for the early-days business owner who had talent but no roadmap.
This week, I invite you to honour your younger self.
The one who made all of the first big choices, hard choices, so you could be where you are today.
What’s one thing in your creative practice that would make her proud?
What would make her feel seen, supported, and understood?
Let her sit beside you as you create.
Resource of the Week
I just finished ‘How Are You, Really?’ by Jenna Kutcher — a book I’ve been meaning to read for ages.
It reached the parts of me that were still tender. This line in particular:
“…[my grandmother] was reminding me to hear my own voice. She was attempting to return me to myself, to big dreams … and my unwavering individuality. That’s what the best voices do: they don’t always show you the way forward—sometimes they show you the way home.” — Jenna Kutcher
A reminder that coming home to yourself can often be one of the greatest acts of courage.
This article was originally sent out to subscribers on 20 November 2025.
