The first morning back
An understated moment proved to be a big turning point last year. I'd done some live drawing at the DixonBaxi x Paradiso event in London and joined the teams for a drink after we'd wrapped up. Chat was fast and passionate. Despite a good relationship with Simon Dixon, this was the first post-work beer we'd shared, and we got into a lot. Somewhere in the chat, while explaining that I often found it challenging to effectively title myself professionally, he said, "You're not an illustrator, are you?" I looked him in the eye and nodded, knowing he'd hit upon something. Simon has been in the game much longer than I have, and our connection has been around something deeper than a mere skill or role. In all of our previous conversations, we'd explored themes, ideas, and truths that transcended limiting disciplines.
"You're a storyteller."
I just slurped my pint and stared back, before babbling something about this being on the money, but like all revelatory moments, it took time to disrobe itself, confronting me as something hard to look away from.
He wasn't talking about business card copy; this was about living as your inner artist. Every human has one. Some lead careers and lives with them, others sadly never access theirs. It was about essence. Since a very early age, I've adored storytelling in many forms, and now it has become my creativity compass. My passion and purpose, in fact. This is bigger than a profession for me.
2025 was the toughest mental health year I've had. A full-blown midlife crisis. Not sports cars or the likes, but a search for deeper meaning, rampant anxiety bursting pipes in every room of my inner sanctum as I tried to manage a hectic, expensive life as a parent, partner, and professional in a world that felt frenzied and maniacal.
I bent, but thanks to friends, family, and the belief that I could adapt, I didn't break and found the inner strength to do the required work.
I learned about the mind, about the nervous system, the thought habits I'd allowed myself to run me ragged, and recognised the need to slow down. The midlife crisis is incredibly common across a wide range of ages – from around 29 into the early 60s – I heard.
But from all of this, I've emerged with at least a finger on the wheel. I have tools now. And a plan that is sympathetic to my energy and mental capacity, and a plan that is built on storytelling, curiosity, and my desire to contribute to the elevation of creativity's role in our society.
I have Pit Stop coaching sessions lined up this January, which I am giddy about. In this session, I help people to work through their current position, their story to date, their fears and desires, and their opportunities and blocks before assessing all components of their creativity to ensure they get back to the place they need to be, to feel passionate, energised, and in control.
And now, I have a brand new coaching offer. Last year, I worked on two biographical stories for two prominent people in the creative industry. With both people I indulged in a magical 12+ hours of deep conversation, hearing all of their experiences, expertise, and points of view. Creative writing and book coaching came together to tell two brilliant stories.
Every human has one, though most don't believe it about themselves.
I found it unbelievably fulfilling, so I distilled a more accessible version for those who do not wish to write a full-on book, but could benefit from writing their story to serve as a compass for their creativity and purpose.
It's a 4-session story coaching programme that could benefit anyone who has become a passenger in their own life or career, as happens to so many of us in this breakneck-paced life. You can learn about both the book and the coaching offers here. I'd love to help you weave your narrative.
And of course, this will be my 19th year making commercial art. Telling visual stories across branding, advertising, editorial, sport, music, motion, and whatever else remains a core part of my work. I'd love to bring this to your projects.
I felt peace this morning that was lacking too often in 2025. The ominous first day back. It was frosty with a light dusting of snow here in Salisbury as the sun rose on the dog walk. A small ripple of anticipatory stress crept in, but, instead of last year's tendency to panic and attach all kinds of damaging meaning to it, I took a breath and accepted its inevitable presence, something that should pass by mid-morning if I remain organised.
Stress is a part of all our lives, but the role it plays in any one of our stories, and our creativity, is more in our hands than we realise. It's about becoming the author.