#NeurodivergentCreators

[laurafaritos]

HDMS023. How to Stand Out in a Crowded Market—Without Changing Who You Are

I swear, Harvard is out to break me. At this point, I’m pretty sure this course is designed to separate the weak from the strong, and I’m clinging to survival mode. I just wrapped Module 2, and while most of my classmates have already moved on to Module 4, I’m here—still processing, still behind, still figuring out how to apply all this marketing knowledge to a career that isn’t selling footwear, skincare, or tech, but selling me.

But that’s the thing: selling yourself as a creative is HARD!!!!!

The second you put yourself out there, the world has opinions. You should be more relatable. You should cater to a general audience. You should play it safe. You should look a certain way, act a certain way, become more like what’s already working—because that’s how you "succeed."

But as this module has taught me: playing it safe is the fastest way to disappear!!!!!!!

This post is about standing out in a crowded market, whether that market is comedy, content creation, or literally any other creative field. It’s about understanding the power of differentiation and why the best brands (and comedians) don’t just chase trends—they create their own lane.

This module focused on competition and what it really means to position yourself against other brands. But for me, this topic hit differently—because if you swap "brands" with "comedians," it becomes a conversation about finding your voice, owning what makes you different, and rejecting the pressure to fit in.

And I learned this lesson the hard way.

I. The Harvard Module Recap: How Brands Differentiate Themselves

This module was all about competition—but not in the way we usually think about it. When most people hear "competition," they think of winning vs. losing or being better than everyone else. But this lesson flipped that idea on its head. It’s not about being better than everyone—it’s about being different in a way that makes you the only real option for your audience.

To make this clear, Harvard introduced The 3 Cs Model of Brand Positioning—which breaks down three major things a brand needs to analyze in order to stand out and stay competitive:

Consumers – Who are they? What do they need? Does your product (or brand) actually solve a problem for them in a way that resonates?

Competition – Who else is out there? How do people view them? What makes them successful? And more importantly, how can you be different in a way that matters?

Company – What do you bring to the table that no one else does? Is your advantage distinctive, defensible, and durable?

Understanding the Power of Differentiation

At the heart of this module was a key idea: If you try to be everything for everyone, you end up being nothing for anyone.

A great example of this was e.l.f. Cosmetics. Before e.l.f. came onto the scene, the beauty industry had a clear divide: luxury brands (high quality, expensive) vs. drugstore brands (affordable, but low quality). There wasn’t a strong middle ground—until e.l.f. disrupted the market by offering prestige-quality makeup at drugstore prices. They didn’t just compete with existing brands; they created their own lane.

OOFOS, the shoe company Harvard has been using as a case study, is facing a similar challenge. They started as a "recovery footwear" brand, making shoes that help with foot pain and post-workout recovery. But most people don’t even know what recovery footwear is. Instead, consumers lump OOFOS in with Crocs, Birkenstocks, and other “comfy shoe” brands.

So, OOFOS has to decide:

Do they compete in the comfort market, even though it's crowded?

Or do they push the idea of "recovery shoes" and try to create a whole new category?

If they go with comfort, they’ll be up against huge brands like Nike, Adidas, and Crocs, and they'll struggle to stand out. But if they double down on recovery, they’ll have to spend time and money educating people about why they need recovery shoes in the first place.

It's a classic branding dilemma: compete where people already are, or create a space where you're the only real option.

The 3 D’s of Differentiation: How to Stand Out in a Crowded Market

Once a brand figures out its positioning, it needs to make sure that its value proposition is:

Distinctive – Does it make you unique? If another brand can copy you easily, you’re not distinctive enough.

Defensible – Can you prove you’re different? Do you have a unique process, technology, or approach that competitors can’t steal?

Durable – Will this advantage still matter 5-10 years from now? Or is it just a temporary trend?

For OOFOS, their distinctive advantage is their foam technology that absorbs impact better than other shoes. Their defensible advantage is the scientific research that proves their shoes actually help with recovery. And their durable advantage is the fact that people will always need pain relief and foot support, especially as they get older.

This framework can be applied to any industry, including comedy. Which brings me to...

II. The Saga of Finding My Voice: What Comedy Taught Me About Branding

If this Harvard module has taught me anything, it’s that I have spent so much of my career letting other people define what I should be. What I should talk about. How I should structure my jokes. What my comedy is allowed to be. And what’s wild is—I didn’t even realize I was doing it. I didn’t realize that instead of following my gut, I was blindly following rules I was never supposed to follow in the first place.

I’ve been doing comedy since 2016. And if I had to break down my journey so far, I’d say:

I sucked for the first three years.

I was okay for the next three.

And for the last two years, I’ve been finding my way back to myself.

This year? This is the first time I can say with my whole chest: I know who I am as a comedian. I know my strengths. I know what makes me different. And I know, with complete certainty, that every “rule” I let shape me in the past wasn’t a rule at all. Just someone else’s opinion—one that I should have rejected instead of letting it rewire my entire brain.

But I didn’t reject it. Because I didn’t know I could.

Autism, Rules, and Taking Things Too Literally

For years, I thought I was just a person who was “really good at listening to advice.” I thought I was being smart by taking notes, following what my professors and fellow comedians told me, and trusting that they knew better than I did. But what I know now—what I didn’t know then—is that I’m autistic. And the thing about being autistic as hell is that my brain doesn’t just take advice. It takes instruction. It takes absolutes.

So when someone in comedy told me, “You can’t do X,” my brain didn’t process it as their opinion.

It processed it as:

🚨 X IS BANNED. NEVER DO X. IF YOU DO X, YOU WILL GO TO COMEDY JAIL. 🚨

Which, in hindsight, is so dumb. But it’s exactly what happened.

When I started comedy, I already had a strong voice. I had killer stories—the kind of stories that actually made me funny. Like:

The man with the milk bag story.

The time I fought a raccoon for a bag of Doritos.

The stupidest questions Canadians have asked me about Brazil.

These were real, lived experiences that I told in a way that only I could. My natural humor was rooted in longform storytelling.

But then I went to comedy school.

And the professors told me: "That’s not stand-up. That’s storytelling. You need to start from scratch."

And I believed them. I thought, oh. Okay. Well, I guess I have to throw everything away and learn how to do “real” comedy from the ground up.

And that? That was the beginning of a three-year identity crisis.

Losing My Voice in an Attempt to “Fit” the Mold

For three years, I tried to force myself into a comedy mold that did not fit.

I was told that “real” stand-up comics tell one-liners or tight, 2-3 minute jokes. I don’t naturally think in one-liners. My jokes unfold as stories. But instead of fighting for what made me different, I thought, Welp, I guess I have to figure out how to be a one-liner comic now.

I was told that my set should be entirely about the fact that I’m Brazilian but don’t “look” or “sound” Brazilian. Because that’s what the general audience (read: racist Canadians from Alberta) would notice first.

And for three years, I tried to force myself into that perspective. I got on stage night after night with jokes that boiled down to:

"Ahaha! I’m Brazilian, but I’m white! Who would’ve thought!"

And it never worked.

Not because the jokes were “bad,” but because they weren’t me. They weren’t rooted in my real personality, my real perspective, or what actually makes me funny. And the audience? They could feel that. They could feel the disconnection.

Then, two years ago, something shifted.

I got on stage and told one single story. The man with the milk bag. No forced one-liners. No pandering. No “general audience” nonsense. Just me, telling a story the way my brain naturally tells stories.

And I killed.

People still remember that set. It was the moment I realized, Wait. Maybe they were wrong. Maybe I didn’t need to force myself into a structure that wasn’t mine. Maybe my professors and fellow comedians weren’t handing down comedy law—they were just projecting their own experiences onto me.

And speaking of projection.

The Lie That Comedians Can’t Be Pretty

Another thing I was told? That if I wanted to be taken seriously, I couldn’t be pretty.

If I looked too good on stage, it would be distracting. People wouldn’t focus on my jokes. They wouldn’t think I was funny.

So for five years, I:

Never recorded my sets.

Never posted clips online.

Never dressed up for shows.

Because I thought I had to dull myself down to be taken seriously.

At first, I resented comedians for making me feel this way. But then I learned about autism and thought—wait. What if… JUST MAYBE… these comedians were just projecting?

And then Matt Rife blew up.

And suddenly, it all clicked.

Of course comedians believe you have to pick between “funny” or “pretty.” For most of them, being funny is the only choice they’ve ever had.

It’s not a rule. It’s just all they’ve ever known.

I realized this wasn’t about gatekeeping. It wasn’t some big industry secret. It was just… their lived experience. The reason Matt Rife blew up was because a hot comedian is a phenomenon. We get hot actors every other day. But hot stand-ups? That’s still rare.

So when other comedians told me, “You have to pick one,” what they really meant was “I’ve never seen a comedian successfully do both.”

Which is not my problem.

So if I had to pick between being pretty or funny?

I’d pick pretty.

Because pretty pays.

Coming Full Circle: Trusting My Instincts Over “Rules”

For years, I let other people’s opinions dictate my entire career. I let other comedians tell me who I should be, what I should joke about, and how I should present myself.

But now? I finally know better.

Every time someone tries to enforce some “rule” onto me, I remind myself:

They cannot enforce that upon me.

I am allowed to reject it.

I will keep doing what I’m doing.

Because I finally know who I am. And I’m not about to change that for anyone.

III. The Second C of Brand Positioning: Competition & Why It Took Me Years to Realize I Had None

If there’s one thing I’ve learned from this Harvard module, it’s that most brands—and most people, for that matter—spend way too much time comparing themselves to others.

Every business class, every case study, every entrepreneur will tell you that you need to analyze your competition. You need to know who else is out there, what they’re doing, what their strengths are, and how to differentiate yourself. It makes sense, right? But what if your biggest strength is the fact that you actually don’t have real competition?

That’s something OOFOS is struggling with in this module. They’re trying to decide if they should fight for space in the already crowded “comfort” shoe market, or if they should double down on their “recovery” niche—even though most people don’t know what “recovery footwear” even means.

And this? This is where I see myself. Because for years, I was stuck trying to fit into the “stand-up comedy” category when I was actually building something completely different.

Who Was I Competing With? Nobody. And That Was the Problem.

For years, I thought my competition was other comedians.

I watched how they structured their jokes.

I studied what was working for them.

I tried to figure out how to compete with their styles.

And I failed. Miserably.

Because what I didn’t realize was that I was never actually competing with them. I was doing something entirely different, but instead of owning that difference, I kept trying to be like everyone else.

My natural style? It was storytelling-based. It was longform. It didn’t fit the traditional stand-up mold, and instead of leaning into that uniqueness, I tried to force myself into the structure of other comics.

That was my biggest mistake.

Learning From OOFOS: When You’re Different, Own It.

The reason OOFOS is struggling in this module is the same reason I struggled for so long.

They don’t fit into a traditional category.

They’re not just another shoe brand. If they try to compete with Nike, Adidas, or Crocs on “comfort,” they’ll lose. But if they own their niche as the only true recovery footwear brand, they have no direct competition.

And that’s a good thing.

That’s exactly where I was as a comedian. I was never meant to be a one-liner comic or a tight five kind of comedian. My style was closer to Mike Birbiglia or Hannah Gadsby—comedians who tell full, immersive stories. The difference was that I didn’t realize I was allowed to do that.

I thought I had to fit into the existing mold or I wasn’t a “real” comedian.

But what I should have done—what I’ve finally learned to do now—is own what makes me different.

Because the best way to stand out isn’t to compete harder.

It’s to play a different game entirely.

V. The Pretty vs. Funny Dilemma: Why I Stopped Listening to Bro Comedians

Let’s talk about another thing I wasted way too much time worrying about:

👀 “If you’re too pretty, people won’t take your comedy seriously.”

For years, I let other comedians convince me that I had to pick one lane:

1️⃣ Be funny. 2️⃣ Be pretty.

But never both.

And like a fool, I believed them.

For the first five years of my career, I never posted clips online because I looked ugly on stage. I avoided recording my sets. I dressed down for shows. I genuinely thought that if I looked too “put together,” the audience wouldn’t find me funny.

At first, I resented the people who told me this.

Then, I learned I was autistic.

And I realized—maybe, JUST MAYBE, the comedians who told me this weren’t actually handing down comedy wisdom.

Maybe they were just… projecting?

The Matt Rife Epiphany: It Was Never About Me.

The moment I knew I’d been scammed was when Matt Rife blew up.

Suddenly, every male comedian I knew was frothing at the mouth about how this “hot guy” was selling out shows. They acted like he was some freak of nature because… he was hot and funny???

And that’s when it hit me.

Of course comedians thought you had to pick between being pretty and funny. Because for most of them, being funny was their only choice.

They weren’t gatekeeping beauty. They weren’t consciously trying to keep me down. They just couldn’t fathom a world where someone could successfully be both.

So when they told me, “People won’t take you seriously if you’re hot,” what they really meant was:

🗣️ “I have never personally witnessed a hot comedian be taken seriously, therefore I assume it is impossible.”

That’s not a fact. That’s just their own lived experience.

Pretty Pays. And I Am Done Pretending It Doesn’t.

So if I had to pick between being funny or pretty?

I’d pick pretty.

Because pretty pays.

And I refuse to keep dulling myself down for the comfort of other comedians when my actual audience couldn’t care less.

My audience? They’re not sitting there taking notes on whether my eyeliner is distracting. They just want to laugh and connect with a performer who is bringing something real to the stage.

And that’s what I plan to do.

IV. Own Your Category & Stop Listening to People Who Can’t See Your Vision

If there’s one thing I’ve learned from both this module and the last decade of my life, it’s this:

👉 If you’re different, own it. 👉 If people don’t get it, they’re not your audience. 👉 If someone tells you what you “can’t” do, question why they think that.

Most of the “rules” I followed were never actually rules.

I didn’t have to fit into traditional stand-up.

I didn’t have to choose between funny or pretty.

I didn’t have to listen to comedians who were just projecting their own limitations onto me.

And neither do you.

OOFOS is in the same boat right now. If they play by the existing rules, they’ll fail. If they try to compete directly with Nike, they’ll lose.

But if they double down on their real, unique edge?

They’ll own their own lane—one that no one else can touch.

That’s exactly what I’m doing now.

And I’ve never felt more confident about it.

V. The AudHD Experience: How Autism & ADHD Shaped My Journey Without Me Realizing It

Looking back, so much of my struggle to find my voice in comedy wasn’t just about bad advice or industry expectations. It was about how my brain is wired.

For the longest time, I couldn’t understand why I took other people’s opinions so seriously. A comedian would casually say, “Oh, you can’t do that in stand-up,” and I’d take it as a literal rule. A professor would tell me, “This isn’t stand-up, it’s storytelling,” and I’d decide my entire comedic identity was wrong. Someone would mention, “People don’t find hot comedians funny,” and I’d spend years actively trying to look worse to be taken seriously.

And I never questioned it. Because my autistic brain heard those statements and assumed they were laws rather than just… opinions.

Autism & The Curse of Taking Everything Literally

One of the biggest struggles I’ve had with autism is that I tend to default to authority. Not because I’m obedient or blindly trusting, but because I assume that if someone says something confidently, it must be true. I don’t have that natural skepticism that some people seem to be born with. When I was younger, I had no concept of subjective opinions. If a teacher told me, “This is how things are done,” I just… believed them. If someone older or more experienced in comedy said, “That won’t work,” I assumed they knew better.

I never stopped to think, “Wait… is this just their personal experience?” Instead, I let every passing comment completely rewire my brain. I erased parts of my identity because I thought I had to.

ADHD & The Curse of Immediate Identity Crises

Then you throw in ADHD, and suddenly I have no internal compass at all. One of the most frustrating parts of being AudHD is how easy it is for me to abandon my own instincts. I get hyper-fixated on doing things “right.” I seek external validation to confirm I’m on the right path. I struggle to hold onto my own sense of self when someone confidently tells me I should be doing things differently.

For years, that meant every time someone critiqued my comedy, I took it as a sign to overhaul everything. I was like a boat without an anchor. Every new wave of advice sent me in a different direction. But the problem with that? You can’t build something real if you keep scrapping everything and starting over. That’s what I spent my first three years in comedy doing. I wasn’t growing—I was erasing. I wasn’t refining my voice—I was losing it. And I had no idea it was because of how my brain naturally processes information.

The Moment I Realized I Didn’t Have to Listen Anymore

Everything changed for me two years ago. I was tired of trying to fit into some perfect mold. I had spent years writing jokes that didn’t feel like me. I was forcing myself to play by rules that were never mine to follow.

One night, I finally said, screw it. I went on stage and told one long story instead of forcing myself to fit a traditional joke structure. It was the Man with the Milk Bag story.

I killed it. People loved it. And the best part? I finally felt like myself.

For the first time in years, I wasn’t performing the version of comedy I thought I was supposed to do. I was just… doing my comedy.

What I’ve Learned About AudHD & Creativity

Now that I understand how my brain works, I approach things completely differently. I don’t take advice as law. I take it as input, but I decide what actually works for me. I trust my instincts. If something feels right, I go with it—even if it doesn’t fit the traditional mold. I remind myself that most rules aren’t real. They’re just things people made up based on their own experiences.

Comedy isn’t a one-size-fits-all industry. There’s no single way to be a comedian. And I wasted so much time trying to be something I wasn’t, just because I didn’t realize I had the power to choose.

VI. The Takeaway: Knowing Yourself is the Ultimate Competitive Advantage

At the end of the day, the biggest lesson I took from this module wasn’t about brand positioning—it was about personal positioning. If you’re constantly comparing yourself to others, trying to fit into their boxes, you’ll never find your own space.

OOFOS is struggling because they’re trying to decide if they should fight for space in the comfort shoe category, or own their uniqueness as the only real recovery footwear brand.

For years, I had the same struggle. I could either try to fit into stand-up’s traditional mold, or own the fact that I’m doing something different.

And once I finally chose the second option? Everything changed.

I stopped listening to people who didn’t see my vision. I started creating in a way that actually felt natural to me. I realized that being different isn’t a weakness—it’s my biggest advantage.

So if you’re out there trying to build something—whether it’s a brand, a career, or an audience—stop looking at what everyone else is doing. Look at what you’re doing. Look at what makes you different.

And lean into it.

VII. TL;DR: The Rules Were Never Real—And Neither is Your Competition

Aaaand that was the post!! You've made it to the end!! Let's recap:

OOFOS is struggling to define itself in a crowded comfort shoe market, but their biggest advantage is that they aren’t just another comfort brand. They’re a recovery brand—something no one else is doing.

For years, I struggled with the same thing. I tried to fit into the mold of what a “real” comedian should be instead of owning what made me unique.

My AudHD brain made me take advice too literally, constantly erasing myself instead of refining my voice.

Once I realized the rules were never real, everything changed.

The biggest takeaway? Knowing yourself is the ultimate competitive advantage. Your uniqueness isn’t a flaw—it’s your brand.

Thanks for reading!! I hope this lesson was as life-changing for you as it was for me!! See you in the next one. Tchau, tchau!!

[stingscustom]

LGBTQ+ neurodivergent creators are weaving a rich tapestry of art, advocacy, and authenticity that'll inspire you. Their vital voices fight for inclusivity and deserve to be celebrated. Let’s uplift these powerful narratives together! Who are your favorite creators in this space? Share below and spread the love!

[inourya]

adhd journal method that works by hayley honeyman

source: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EutWHh7-gJg&list=WL&index=4

why adhd people do something:

interesting urgency novelty accountability

some points

keep one journal for everything

use color coordinate

add a bucket list (what you wanna describe about)

gamify journal

write when you're compelled - follow the dopamine

[authorfrancisgrey]

"THE BIRTHPLACE OF STORIES... 🌿✨

I often get asked where my story ideas come from. The truth? Many begin on paths just like this one.

There's a special kind of magic in woodland paths—the way sunlight dapples through leaves, the mysterious quality of what might wait around the bend, the sense that you're walking between worlds.

When I walk down paths like this, characters start talking to me. Einstein from "Paws of Prophecy" first wagged his tail at me on a similar path. The mysterious Nathan Greyson from "The Wolf of Grimm Park" appeared between shadow and light just like this. And the magical paintings from "The Artist's Shadow" began to shimmer and move in my mind during quiet forest walks.

As a neurodivergent creator, these in-between spaces—not quite wilderness, not quite tamed—speak to something essential in how I experience the world. The patterns of light, the symphony of greens, the gentle chaos of nature that somehow makes perfect sense... these are the birthplaces of magic.

Where do you find your inspiration? What paths lead you to your most creative spaces?

#AuthorLife #CreativeProcess #StoryOrigins #MagicalPaths #WritingInspiration #NeurodivergentCreator #FrancisGrey #FindingStories #MagicalWorlds #CreativeJourney #DreamthornStudio #AuthorThoughts"

[laurafaritos]

HDMS016. From Stage to Strategy – The Secret to Selling Comedy Shows That Most Comedians Ignore

Last summer, I hit a crossroads. My mom and I had a fallout, and I walked away from the immigration office where I had worked for years—the office she had been grooming me to take over one day. In her eyes, it was supposed to be my career, my legacy. But when I left, I was suddenly hit with a harsh reality: I had spent years working in immigration, but I went to school for media production.

If I applied for jobs at immigration offices, they’d say, "That’s nice that your mom let you work there, but you didn’t go to school for this." And if I applied for media production jobs, they’d say, "That’s nice that you studied media, but you never worked in the field."

So there I was. Overqualified for one thing, underqualified for another. No clear career path, no stable income, and no idea what to do next.

That’s when I realized: If no one was going to give me a job, I’d have to build my own.

I had spent years performing comedy, creating content, and learning the ins and outs of media production—so why wasn’t I treating it like a real career? Why wasn’t I investing in myself the way my mom had invested in her business? If I wanted to sustain myself through comedy, content creation, and podcasting, I had to stop thinking like a comedian and start thinking like a business owner.

And that’s where everything changed.

Most comedians treat their craft like an art form (which it is), but they completely ignore the business side of it. They believe that talent alone is enough to fill seats, get booked, and make a living. I used to think the same way. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned in the past year, it’s that talent means nothing if you don’t know how to market yourself.

This post is about the secret to selling comedy shows that most comedians ignore. If you’re tired of empty rooms, struggling to sell tickets, and wondering why your career isn’t moving forward, I’m about to break it all down. Because once I stopped treating comedy like a passion project and started treating it like a business, everything changed.

I. Why Most Comedians (Myself Included) Struggle to Sell Tickets

For the longest time, I thought selling out a show was simple: put together a lineup, promote it on social media, and my friends and followers would show up. After all, I was funny, my shows were well-curated, and the comedians I booked were great. What more did I need?

A lot, apparently.

The first few shows I produced had a brutal wake-up call: my network alone was not enough to fill a room. Sure, some friends came through, and a handful of comedy fans found the event, but as I started producing shows more regularly, I saw a painful truth—audiences don’t magically appear just because you’re talented.

The Myth of "If You Build It, They Will Come"

Most comedians fall into this trap. They assume that because they’re funny, they deserve an audience. They rely on their immediate circle to buy tickets, thinking that the same people will show up again and again.

The reality? Selling comedy shows is not about being funny—it’s about knowing how to market and sell.

If you don’t know how to: ✔️ Identify and attract your ideal audience ✔️ Create a compelling reason for people to buy tickets ✔️ Use digital marketing to reach beyond your existing circle ✔️ Build long-term relationships with your audience ✔️ Optimize ticket sales strategies

…then your show is always going to struggle.

This was the part I refused to accept for a long time. I wanted to believe that talent was the main driver of success. That if I just kept doing good shows, word would spread, and people would naturally show up. But talent alone doesn’t sell tickets.

The difference between an empty room and a sold-out show is not the quality of the lineup—it’s the quality of the strategy behind it.

That’s when I realized: If I wanted to fill rooms, I had to stop thinking like an artist and start thinking like a business owner.

II. How I’m Finally Treating My Comedy Like a Business

For years, I treated comedy like a passion project. I put together shows, promoted them when I felt like it, and hoped for the best. And when things didn’t work out? I blamed the industry, the audience, or even my own luck—without realizing that I wasn’t running my comedy career like a business.

That changed when I had no choice but to make it work.

After leaving my mom’s immigration office, I was thrown into the deep end. I couldn’t find a job because my experience was split between two completely unrelated fields—immigration and media production. The problem? I hadn’t officially worked in media production outside of my personal projects. And the immigration field? My only real experience was working at my mom’s office. To media companies, I wasn’t experienced enough. To immigration offices, I wasn’t qualified.

That was the moment I realized: If I wanted a career, I’d have to create one for myself.

It wasn’t enough to be a good comedian. It wasn’t enough to be creative. If I wanted to make a living from comedy, I had to build an actual business. And a business requires structure, strategy, and systems.

So I started treating comedy differently. Instead of hoping for ticket sales, I started applying business and marketing principles to everything I did.

Shifting My Mindset: Comedy as a Product, Not Just an Art Form

I used to think of my shows as just shows. But now, I see them as products that need the right audience, the right positioning, and the right promotion.

Here’s what changed: ✔️ Defining My Audience – Instead of promoting shows to everyone, I now focus on specific groups who are most likely to be interested. Horror fans for Haunted Comedians, people with immigrant experiences for Foreigner Diaries, and relationship junkies for Failed by Sex Ed. ✔️ Branding Each Show Clearly – I stopped treating my shows like random one-offs. They’re now part of a bigger brand with their own identities, aesthetics, and messaging. ✔️ Creating a Marketing System – I no longer rely on last-minute posts. I have a structured plan for how I promote, when I promote, and where I promote. ✔️ Building Long-Term Relationships – Instead of chasing one-time ticket buyers, I’m building a community. I want people to come back show after show, not just once.

I realized that comedians who treat their careers like businesses are the ones who succeed. The ones who refuse to adapt? They stay stuck, wondering why their talent isn’t enough.

And if I was going to make this work? I had to stop thinking like a comedian who sometimes produces shows and start thinking like a business owner who happens to be a comedian.

III. Prioritizing What Works—Longform Content, Community, and Longevity

I used to think success in comedy was about getting booked on the right stages, knowing the right people, and hoping my talent would be enough to carry me. But the more I studied marketing and business, the more I realized: the comedians who win are the ones who think long-term.

For me, that meant doubling down on the things that time will work in my favor—not just chasing short-term wins that fizzle out.

Here’s what I’m prioritizing now:

1. Longform Content That Lasts Beyond the Show Night

One of the biggest mistakes I made in the past was treating my comedy shows like one-night events instead of long-term assets.

Now, I approach things differently: ✔️ Filming My Live Shows – I don’t just perform and hope people remember. I record everything, create highlight clips, and repurpose content for social media and my podcast. ✔️ Building a Digital Archive – Every show I produce is part of a bigger ecosystem. By filming and repackaging my content, I create an ever-growing library of work. ✔️ Focusing on Platforms That Work for Me – Instead of trying to be everywhere at once, I’m focusing on what suits my voice and my workflow best: Tumblr for unfiltered thoughts, Substack for structured content, and YouTube for longform videos.

2. Community Over Virality

It’s easy to get caught up in chasing numbers—more views, more likes, more followers. But what actually sells tickets and builds a sustainable career? A loyal audience.

Instead of trying to “go viral,” I’m focusing on: ✔️ Consistent Engagement – Whether it’s through email newsletters, Tumblr posts, or Threads conversations, I prioritize depth over reach. ✔️ Bringing People Into My World – I don’t just promote shows; I take people behind the scenes. They see the process, the struggles, the funny moments, and the wins. ✔️ Creating a Culture Around My Work – My comedy isn’t for everyone. And that’s a good thing. I’m building a space for people who get my humor, my storytelling, and my style.

3. Playing the Long Game

Most comedians burn out because they focus on what’s urgent instead of what’s important. I used to be that person—scrambling to fill seats last minute, relying on one-off gigs, and feeling frustrated when things didn’t magically grow.

Now, I’m committed to: ✔️ Building Systems, Not Just Hype – I don’t want to be in the same place next year. That means setting up repeatable marketing strategies, creating evergreen content, and constantly refining my approach. ✔️ Creating Work That Compounds Over Time – A single viral video might get me attention, but a body of work builds credibility. I want my content—my shows, my podcast, my writing—to stack in value, not disappear in 24 hours. ✔️ Betting on Myself – I stopped waiting for someone to “discover” me. I’m building the career I want, on my terms, with strategies that allow me to scale.

This shift in mindset has been game-changing. I’m no longer just a comedian hoping things work out—I’m a business owner creating sustainable success.

IV. How I’m Making This Work With AuDHD (And Why It’s Actually an Advantage)

When I first realized I had AuDHD, I saw it as something I had to work around. I knew I struggled with executive dysfunction, burnout, and sensory overwhelm, and I assumed that building a sustainable career in comedy would always feel like pushing against my own brain.

But the more I studied digital marketing, the more I realized something: the best marketing strategies align with the way my brain already works. Instead of forcing myself to fit into traditional business models, I could design a system that plays to my strengths.

Here’s how I’m making it work:

1. Leaning Into Hyperfocus for Deep Work

One of the biggest struggles of having AuDHD is inconsistent motivation. Some days, I can’t get through basic admin tasks, and other days, I’ll hyperfocus for 10+ hours straight on a project. Instead of fighting that, I build my workflow around it.

✔ Batching Content in Sprints – I don’t try to force daily consistency. Instead, I dedicate hyperfocus days to producing large amounts of content (writing multiple blog posts, filming multiple podcast episodes, designing a month’s worth of show promotions). ✔ Using Systems That Reduce Daily Effort – Once a project is batched, I schedule everything in advance. That way, even when I’m having low-energy days, my business is still running. ✔ Creating Longform Content That Pays Off Later – Hyperfocus is a gift when I use it for deep work. That’s why I focus on longform writing, video content, and projects that have a lasting impact instead of getting lost in short-term distractions.

2. Automating Repetitive Tasks to Avoid Burnout

One of the hardest things for me is maintaining energy consistency. My brain works in all or nothing mode—I either go full force, or I crash. So I’ve learned to build automation into my business wherever possible.

✔ Pre-Scheduling Social Media & Emails – Instead of posting manually every day (which drains me), I schedule content in advance using Metricool. That way, my audience gets consistent engagement without me having to be constantly online. ✔ Using Templates & Checklists for Repetitive Work – Show promotions, podcast edits, sponsorship emails—I have a system for everything now, so I don’t waste energy starting from scratch every time. ✔ Building a Low-Maintenance Marketing Plan – I’ve stopped overcomplicating things. If a marketing effort requires me to be constantly creating from scratch, it’s not sustainable. Instead, I focus on repurposing my best work across multiple platforms.

3. Embracing My Brain’s Natural Strengths

There’s a reason so many successful comedians, writers, and creators are neurodivergent—we are wired for creativity, pattern recognition, and storytelling. Once I stopped trying to function like a neurotypical entrepreneur and started leveraging what I’m naturally good at, things became much easier.

✔ Pattern Recognition for Marketing Strategy – I don’t just think like a comedian—I think like an audience member. I can see which jokes, topics, and formats resonate with people, and I apply that to my marketing. ✔ Fast Idea Generation for Content & Comedy – My brain moves fast, which means I can generate a ton of material quickly. Instead of forcing myself to follow rigid structures, I’ve created a workflow where I can capture and organize my ideas effectively. ✔ Deep Obsession = Expertise – AuDHD means that when I’m passionate about something, I go all in. Instead of seeing that as a problem, I’ve learned to channel it into becoming an expert in my niche—comedy, marketing, and digital media.

I used to think my AuDHD was something I had to overcome in order to succeed in comedy. Now, I see that it’s actually one of my biggest advantages—as long as I structure my work in a way that supports my brain instead of fighting against it.

By designing my business around what actually works for me, I’m not just surviving—I’m thriving.

4o

You said:

next

ChatGPT said:

V. TL;DR & Final Thoughts

The biggest lesson I’ve learned from treating my comedy like a business? Talent alone is not enough.

For years, I thought that if I just focused on being good enough, opportunities would come my way. I believed that if I made people laugh, the rest would fall into place. But the reality is—talent doesn’t sell tickets. Marketing does.

That doesn’t mean I’ve lost my passion for comedy. In fact, it’s the opposite—I’ve learned how to protect that passion by making sure my business strategy supports my creative goals, not the other way around.

Here’s what changed:

1️⃣ I stopped treating my comedy shows like an afterthought. Instead of assuming people would just show up, I built a strategy for ticket sales, branding, and audience engagement. 2️⃣ I started investing in longform content. Instead of chasing quick wins, I prioritized content that builds credibility and has a long shelf life—like my blog, podcast, and filmed live shows. 3️⃣ I designed my work around my AuDHD brain. Instead of fighting my natural work rhythms, I created systems that allow me to thrive—batching content, automating repetitive tasks, and leaning into my strengths.

For the first time, I feel like I’m in control of my career. I’m not just hoping things work out—I’m making sure they do.

And the best part? This is just the beginning.

I can’t wait to see where this journey takes me next.

Tchau, tchau!!!

[stingscustom]

Neurodivergent LGBTQ+ artists are reshaping creativity and inclusion, pushing boundaries that society often overlooks. Their vibrant expressions challenge norms and foster understanding. Join us in celebrating their brilliance—your support makes a difference! Who’s your favorite neurodivergent creator? Share below and let’s uplift our community!

[laurafaritos]

HDMS058. Impressions Are Fool’s Gold — Here’s What to Measure Instead

You ever go viral and feel… nothing?

You check your notifications, your views hit six figures, your mom even texts you “saw your little skit!” — and yet… your ticket sales don’t move. Your inbox is dry. Your website’s still a ghost town.

That’s because impressions ≠ impact.

This week’s HDMS post is about measuring earned media without losing your damn mind — especially when you’re a comedian, creator, or indie producer trying to do it all without a marketing degree. We’re breaking down why impressions are the fool’s gold of digital marketing, what actually counts, and how to build a measurement system that doesn’t rely on vibes alone.

This module straight-up dragged the fantasy that impressions = results. Turns out? You can’t measure success by vibes and vanity metrics alone.

Earned media sounds sexy — like, "we got featured!" — but unless it moves people, drives action, or builds long-term trust, it’s just noise. Here’s what I learned:

Impressions are fool’s gold unless they connect to something meaningful (like site visits, sign-ups, or sales).

Self-selection and homophily mess with your data: most people who engage with your earned media already liked you or were in your bubble. That doesn’t mean your brand awareness grew — it might just be echoing in your own hallway.

Most brands can’t track exact causation, so they look at correlation: like “we got mentioned in Fast Company, and then clog sales went up 30%.”

Big brands track stuff like:

Organic website visits

Google search trends

UGC (user-generated content)

Loyalty signups

Earned Media Value (aka: how much ad spend would’ve been needed to reach that many people)

But even then, not all buzz is worth bragging about. Darren from OOFOS said it best: a Slide #53 mention in a Yahoo listicle might have "2M impressions" on paper... but it doesn’t move real people.

Instead, OOFOS puts more weight on small, focused articles that talk about their actual value pillars — recovery, tech, and trust. The goal isn’t to go wide — it’s to go deep with the right people.

This module confirmed something I’ve been feeling for a while: I don’t want to chase hype — I want to build trust.

There’s a huge difference between being seen and being understood. I’ve had content “pop off” before, but unless I had a clear system behind it (like a strong CTA, a lead magnet, or a next step), that moment never turned into anything tangible.

Going forward, I’m focusing on:

Tracking what actually moves people — like link clicks, replies, email signups, and time spent on my site.

Creating a “gut-check” system for myself: Did this post create conversation? Did someone reach out after seeing it? Did it lead to a new connection, ticket sale, or subscriber?

Putting more weight on context-rich moments (like podcast features, comedy roundups, or curated press) instead of viral fluff with no follow-through.

Choosing signal over noise — even if that means fewer likes but better conversion.

As someone who’s self-employed and neurodivergent, I need systems that don’t make me spiral. So if a post gets 500 views and leads to 5 DMs from people who want to work with me? That’s a win. I’m no longer counting “likes” — I’m counting leverage.

If this week’s HDMS post taught me anything, it’s this:

Not all buzz is worth chasing. Impressions are cute, but they don’t pay your bills unless you’ve got strategy behind them. Whether you’re a comedian, creator, or producer — focus on what builds real trust, not just what gets seen.

Measure the stuff that actually means something. Clicks, conversations, conversions. Forget going viral — aim to be remembered.

I hope this post was as helpful to you as it was to me.

Tchau tchauuu!!!

[laurafaritos]

HDMS052. Stop Sending Boring Emails — Here’s What to Do Instead

Raise your hand if you’ve ever gotten a marketing email that felt like it was yelling “BUY THIS” and nothing else 🙋‍♀️

Yeah... Same.

For a long time, I thought email marketing was just that: loud, repetitive, and low-key annoying.

But this week’s module flipped that.

Turns out, email works best when it stops acting like a megaphone and starts acting like a story.

In this post, I’m breaking down what I learned about evolving email marketing — from product blasts to personal connections — and how I’m using that to make my own emails feel more like love letters and less like corporate spam.

If you’ve been relying on “new episode now streaming” or “tickets available” as your only email content… we need to talk.

This one’s for the creators who want to build trust, not just a list.

This module zoomed in on how email marketing can evolve past just product launches and become a way to tell stories, build trust, and nurture long-term relationships. Kate from OOFOS basically said what we’ve all been thinking: too many brand emails just say the same thing over and over — “new drop, new color, new sale.” But that’s not what gets people to care.

What’s working for OOFOS now? Sharing real-life stories. They’re featuring athletes and everyday people who actually use their products, weaving in testimonials, and creating content that ties into people’s goals, like New Year’s resolutions. That kind of mid-funnel content (for folks who are aware but not yet ready to buy) builds trust — and trust converts.

Another big theme was balance. You still need those broad emails that go to 500,000 people and bring in fast revenue. But layer in personalization — emails based on abandoned carts, product views, or behaviors on your site. They might have lower send numbers, but the return is way higher. Basically: email blasts bring visibility, but personalized follow-ups bring conversion.

The core idea? Stop sending content at people. Start sending content for them.

Okay, so here’s where I had an “oh no… they’re talking about me” moment. Because my emails? Up until now? Mostly just said: “Hey, I made a thing. Here’s the link. Hope you click, love ya, bye.”

But what I took away from this module is that email isn’t just a notification system — it’s a relationship tool. And if I’m only showing up in people’s inboxes when I want something, that’s not a relationship. That’s a one-sided situationship.

So here’s what I’m changing: I’m planning to build emails that add value, even if there’s nothing to promote. Things like:

Behind-the-scenes of my shows or podcast process

Reflections on building a creative business as a neurodivergent person

Quick lessons from my Harvard modules (like this one)

Stories from the audience or community

Encouraging reminders for creators who feel behind

I’m also starting to map out behavior-based emails. Like:

Someone viewed my podcast page but didn’t subscribe? I can follow up with “Want to know where to start?”

Someone downloaded a freebie but hasn’t bought the product? I can check in, not pressure.

Someone came to a show but hasn’t been back in months? I can send a “Here’s what you missed” recap and invite.

This kind of email strategy feels aligned. Less “I need to hit a sales quota,” more “Hey, I remembered you liked this and thought of you.”

If you're a comedian or creator who never touched a Mailchimp dashboard in your life — don’t worry, you’re not behind. You’re just about to do email better than half the brands out there.

Here’s the deal: Most creatives think of email as a place to announce something. But the real magic happens when you use email to connect between announcements. That’s what builds trust. That’s what makes people show up, share your work, and buy the thing without you hard-selling.

Here are 5 non-cringe emails you can send instead:

“Here’s what I’m working on (and why it’s messy AF right now)” Let people into the chaos. Behind-the-scenes is content.

“What I learned this week (so you don’t have to)” If you bombed, booked a gig, or survived a tech fail — share the takeaway.

“This made me laugh / cry / scream, so I’m sending it to you” Not everything has to be your content. Curation = connection.

“Story time: The weirdest thing that happened at last week’s show…” Real stories build emotional memory with your audience. And trust.

“I thought of you when I wrote this” Segment your list. If they clicked on a romance post before, send them the love-themed stuff. If they went for ghost stories? Hit them with the haunted content.

Treat email like a setlist!!!!

Mix your punchlines (fun stuff), your callbacks (references to older content), and your closer (aka CTA). Don’t do a full hour of “come see me live.” You wouldn’t do that on stage — don’t do it in someone’s inbox.

If your emails are just shouting “NEW SHOW! BUY TICKETS!” — no shade, but you’re missing the real opportunity.

This module made it clear: email isn’t just about selling — it’s about storytelling, trust, and showing up for your audience between launches.

Start small. Keep it human. And remember: your inbox game doesn’t need to be perfect — it just needs to feel real.

The boring blast era is over. Let your emails breathe a little. You might be surprised who clicks “reply.”

I hope this post was as helpful to you as it wad to me!!!

Tchau tchau <33

[laurafaritos]

HDMS050. Trust, Testimonials, and TikToks: What I Learned About Organic Content

This blog post is based on lessons from Module 4.2.2 of Harvard's Digital Marketing Strategy course, where we zoomed in on organic content strategy—specifically, the power of expert validation and testimonials that feel authentic. Harvard taught me that the most trusted voices aren’t necessarily celebrities or influencers... but people who either share your lived experience or have relevant expertise (like a doctor or physical therapist).

OOFOS, a recovery shoe brand we’ve been following throughout the course, shifted from glam campaigns to using medical professionals and everyday people in their content. This wasn’t just for good vibes—it was a strategic move to build credibility, brand loyalty, and long-term engagement without paying for ads.

In this post, I’ll break down what I learned from that strategy, how I’m applying it to my own shows (Haunted Comedians, Failed by Sex Ed, The Foreigner Diaries), and how my AUDHD brain interacts with this kind of slow-burn content creation (spoiler: it’s a mixed bag). Whether you're neurodivergent, just starting out, or tired of chasing algorithmic approval—there’s something here for you.

Let’s dig in!!!

In this part of the course, we learned how the recovery footwear brand OOFOS shifted its content strategy away from high-gloss influencer marketing and toward a more authentic testimonial approach. Why? Because research shows that consumers tend to trust:

Experts (like medical professionals)

People like themselves (everyday users who reflect their lived experience)

Darren Brown, Head of Marketing at OOFOS, emphasized that the brand’s success came from getting real people—like physical therapists or nurses who use the shoes themselves—to talk about their experiences. These voices resonated more than traditional influencer content.

Kate Laliberte, Head of E-commerce, also highlighted how organic social media (unpaid content on platforms like Instagram or TikTok) required a constant evolution. They focused on engagement, reach, website traffic, and revenue, tracking what kind of content people connected with most.

The biggest takeaway? Organic content isn’t about volume, it’s about validity. Real stories from real people can be more effective than ads when done right—and they build long-term brand trust.

Okay, so here’s where it clicked for me: I realized I already have testimonials. Every time someone comes up to me after a show to say, “This helped me feel seen,” or “I didn’t know anyone else went through that,” that’s social proof. I just wasn’t packaging or prioritizing it the way a brand like OOFOS would.

So here’s how I’m applying it now:

For Haunted Comedians, I’ve started clipping post-show reactions from audience members and casually filming short behind-the-scenes convos where comics talk about what the show meant to them. That hits the “people like me” validation for fans and performers.

For Foreigner Diaries, I’m inviting immigrant comedians and audience members to share stories about the culture shocks they’ve experienced. These organic voices are more persuasive than me just saying, “Hey, this show is important.”

For Failed By Sex Ed, I want to bring in sex educators, therapists, and folks with lived experience to explain why the show’s necessary. That adds expert credibility without making it feel clinical.

And let’s talk about AudHD for a sec—because doing all of this is easier said than done when your executive functioning’s on fire. Gathering testimonials, editing clips, tracking engagement metrics… it’s a lot. So I’ve created an “Organic Media” Notion board to log content ideas and map them to the funnel. That way, I don’t have to re-invent the wheel every week—I just scroll through, see what matches the vibe of my week, and post from there.

This strategy isn’t just smarter. It’s sustainable. And for neurodivergent creators like me, sustainable = possible.

You don’t need to be a brand with a content team or a marketing budget to use this strategy—comedians already have what we need: stories, community, and receipts. Here’s how to start using content and testimonials like OOFOS, even if you’re doing it solo:

Identify who your show is for. Not just “people who like comedy,” but specifics. Is it queer millennials who feel disillusioned by sex education? First-gen kids navigating culture shock? Neurodivergent folks who feel misunderstood? The more specific you are, the easier it is to find (and keep) your audience.

Use testimonials as proof, not just praise. Don’t treat post-show compliments like disposable nice moments—use them as marketing assets. A tweet from someone saying “I laughed and cried” can say more than a 500-word promo.

Think of content as conversation, not promotion. A blog post about what inspired your show is content. A TikTok about a joke that didn’t land and why is content. You don’t need to sell. You just need to share.

Start at the bottom of the funnel. If marketing terms make you cringe, just think: post for the people already listening before chasing strangers. Get the fans you have to stay engaged and they’ll do the outreach for you.

Accommodate your brain. If you’re neurodivergent, build systems that work with your energy. Batch your posts on good brain days. Use templates. Repost old stuff that’s still relevant. Your consistency doesn’t have to look like everyone else’s.

The takeaway? You already have the content. You already have the audience. You just need to show the internet what’s already happening in your community.

SEO and content strategy sound like things only brands care about. But if you’re a comedian building a fanbase, running a show, or promoting a project, you’re doing marketing—whether you like it or not. This HDMS module showed how brands like OOFOS use blog posts, testimonials, and keywords to grow sustainably without relying only on ads. And guess what? You can do the same with your comedy work. Here’s how I’m applying it to my shows Haunted Comedians, Foreigner Diaries, and Failed by Sex Ed—with an audhd-friendly twist.

The most powerful thing about content strategy is that you don’t need permission or money to start—just a point of view and a way to share it. Whether it’s a fan quote, a niche keyword, or a vulnerable story, your content can make your comedy easier to find, easier to love, and easier to grow. Especially for neurodivergent comics like me, using your brain’s unique pattern of storytelling can be the superpower that cuts through the noise. Let your content reflect your voice, not just your hustle.

I hope this was as helpful to you as it was to me <33

Tchau tchau <33

[laurafaritos]

HDMS048. Getting Googled On Purpose — An SEO Crash Course for Broke Creatives

If you’re not famous, and you don’t have a marketing budget, how are people supposed to find you online?

Before this course, I thought the answer was: they don’t. You just have to keep promoting your stuff manually, constantly, forever. But then I hit this section of the Harvard Digital Marketing Strategy course—and realized I’d been missing an entire discovery channel hiding in plain sight.

Search.

Like, actual Google search. Not hashtags. Not TikTok trends. Not getting lucky on Threads.

We learned how a tiny clothing company called Duckworth used search engine optimization (SEO) to go from a struggling retail brand to a growing e-commerce business—without spending big on ads. It was the first time I really understood that SEO isn’t just for corporations. It’s for anyone who wants to be found.

So in this post, I’m breaking down what I learned about SEO, how it applies to my own shows like Haunted Comedians, Foreigner Diaries, and Failed by Sex Ed—and how other creatives can use it to stop getting buried online.

This part of the course zoomed in on Search Engine Optimization (SEO)—basically, how to get your stuff to show up on Google without paying for ads.

The case study was Duckworth, a tiny, family-owned clothing brand that makes Merino wool clothes in Montana. They were getting crushed by ad costs, so they pivoted hard to owned media. But instead of just vibing and hoping someone found them, they used SEO to actively show up when people Googled things like:

“best base layer for snowboarding”

“warm wool layers for hiking”

“merino wool vs cotton”

These are called long-tail keywords: search terms that are super specific. They don’t have huge search volume, but the people searching them are often ready to buy. That’s perfect for small brands (and creators!) who can’t compete for giant keywords like “outdoor gear.”

Duckworth used those keywords to make blog posts, videos, and landing pages. They made sure the site loaded fast. They added reviews and useful info. And because they were so specific and helpful, Google started bumping them up in organic search.

They also taught us the three pillars of SEO:

Technical optimization – Make sure your site works, loads fast, and can be crawled by Google

Content optimization – Use the words your audience is actually searching for, and answer their questions

Link optimization – Get other reputable websites to link to you (this builds authority)

One framework they introduced was called CIRCLE, which breaks down SEO into Crawl, Index, Rank, Click-Through Rate, Landing Page, and Experience. It’s technical, but the core idea is: if people can find you, click on you, and have a good experience once they do? Google will reward that.

And that’s when I realized… I don’t need to be famous to show up in search. I just need to be useful and findable.

Before this, I always assumed SEO was something reserved for brands with tech teams and budgets. Like, who’s out here searching “comedian with haunted shows in Toronto”?

But then I realized—maybe someone is.

And even if they’re not searching me by name (yet), they might still be searching for the kind of stuff I do.

Haunted Comedians isn’t just a funny show—it’s a searchable concept. People might Google “haunted comedy Toronto,” “Halloween comedy events,” or “ghost tours with comedians.” If I build content that reflects those searches, people might actually find the show without me constantly promoting it.

Foreigner Diaries hits with long-tail searches like “Brazilian immigrant comedy” or “funny stories about culture shock in Canada.” Instead of just saying “I’m doing a show,” I could be writing blog posts titled ‘What Canadian audiences don’t get about Brazilian humour (but Brazilians do)’.

Failed by Sex Ed? GOLD MINE. SEO-wise, that show is basically a searchable cry for help. “Sex education podcast for adults,” “funny sex ed stories,” “neurodivergent sex ed,” “what I wish I’d learned about sex.” I have so much already in my files that matches that exact intent.

It hit me that SEO is a way to stop screaming into the void. It rewards specificity, patience, and storytelling—which is literally how my brain already works. I just didn’t know how to plug it into the system.

As someone with AUDHD, the idea of my work being discoverable on its own is huge. It means I can make stuff that lasts and that works with my brain, not against it. I don’t have to be viral—I just have to be searchable.

Let me say this first: you don’t need to know how to code to start using SEO.

What you do need is to know what your audience might be Googling—and make sure your content answers that search.

Here’s how creatives like us can start:

🔍 Step 1: Find your long-tail keywords These are the oddly specific phrases that someone might type into Google when they’re looking for work like yours. Think:

“funny immigrant stories from Brazil”

“comedy podcast about sex education”

“ghost-themed comedy Toronto”

You’re not trying to win over everyone. You’re trying to be the exact right thing for someone with a specific need.

📝 Step 2: Make content that speaks to that search Instead of just posting “New episode’s up!”, try:

A blog post titled “The Sex Ed Lesson I Needed at 13 (But Finally Got at 30)”

A YouTube description that says “Filmed inside a haunted church, this standup set dives into dating, demons, and dry shampoo.”

A podcast title like “Why Brazilian Jokes Don’t Land in Canada (and Why That’s Okay)”

You’re not faking anything—you’re just translating your art into searchable language.

🌐 Step 3: Optimize your platforms

Put those keywords on your website, in your episode titles, and in your social bios

Add internal links between your pages (e.g. your About page links to your shows)

Make sure your site is mobile-friendly and doesn’t take 100 years to load

🔗 Step 4: Build backlinks You don’t need press—just connections.

Swap guest spots on each other’s podcasts and link to each other’s sites

Write guest blogs or newsletters

Share your work on Reddit threads, forums, or in directories where it fits

Don’t underestimate the SEO value of being cited somewhere even once

You don’t need to be everywhere. You just need to be findable.

If you’ve ever felt like nobody was looking for your work—it might just be that they didn’t know how to find it.

This module made me realize that SEO is less about hacking the algorithm and more about meeting people where they already are. Your art deserves to be found. But for that to happen, you have to make it searchable.

You don’t need a huge budget. You don’t need to be trending. You just need a clear message, a helpful presence, and a few good keywords.

And if you’re someone who feels constantly behind on trends, or exhausted by algorithm chasing? SEO is your quiet revenge. It’s the long game. It’s “getting Googled on purpose.”

Now excuse me while I go rename every podcast episode I’ve ever made hahahahaha

I hope this post was as helpful to you as it was to me.

Tchau tchau <333

[laurafaritos]

HDMS047. You Wrote It Once and It’s Still Working — That’s Owned Media Magic

Most of what we post online disappears in 24 hours—or worse, gets buried by an algorithm in 24 seconds.

Owned media doesn’t play by those rules.

That’s what this week’s lesson from Harvard’s Digital Marketing Strategy course made clear: when you own the content, it doesn’t just work once. It can work again. And again. And again.

One well-written blog post, one strong podcast episode, one solid email sequence—these things can live on, pulling in new audience members or converting fans months (or even years) after you hit publish.

This module focused on why owned media is such a powerful channel, not just for brands like OOFOS, but for creators like me. This post breaks down what I learned, how I’m thinking differently now, and why this kind of slow-burn strategy might be the most sustainable move for comedians and creatives.

This submodule was all about the specific advantages of owned media, and honestly, it kind of felt like a love letter to sustainable content.

We checked back in with OOFOS, the recovery footwear brand, to see how their owned media strategy was doing. The results were kind of amazing:

Owned media (like email, blogs, organic social) brought in only 25% of total traffic, but that 25% generated 30% of their revenue.

That means fewer people, making more purchases—aka, a much more efficient channel.

Kate Laliberte, Head of Ecommerce at OOFOS, explained that owned media gives them total control: they can decide what to say, when to say it, and who to say it to. That level of flexibility isn’t possible with paid ads or unpredictable social platforms.

Sunil Gupta broke it down even further:

Owned media works at every stage of the funnel:

Top: blog posts + SEO for discovery

Middle: emails + long-form content for education

Bottom: persuasive copy + CTAs for conversion

It’s perfect for creative storytelling, like REI’s long-form YouTube documentaries (real people, real vibes, not a hard sell)

Here’s a quick rundown of the benefits:

Full control over messaging and timing

Consistent brand tone and voice

Stronger long-term relationships with customers

Value across the entire funnel

No ongoing cost once the content is created

No algorithm interference

More trust from audiences who choose to subscribe or follow

For a content-obsessed person like me, this was a wake-up call: one good post can do more than ten rushed ones.

This module didn’t just teach me about owned media—it gave me permission to slow down.

As someone who’s both autistic and ADHD, the constant pressure to be “on” and always posting can feel impossible. Social media moves fast. Algorithms reward consistency, but punish unpredictability—like taking a break, or needing more time to think, or not being in the mood to scream into the void every day.

Owned media? It doesn’t expect that from me.

This idea that I can make something once—a thoughtful blog post, a well-structured podcast episode, a solid “about me” page—and it can keep working for me without me chasing it down again and again? That’s revolutionary.

It means I can spend time making something I actually like, without the pressure to remix it five different ways in the same week just to get attention.

It means I can set up systems and content that meet people where they are, when they’re ready—not when the feed says it’s time.

It means I don’t have to chase my audience. I can invite them into a space I’ve built to last.

Here’s the thing about owned media: it’s not just for brands with marketing teams. It’s for anyone who’s tired of fighting for visibility every single day.

If you’re a comedian or creator, here’s how you can start using it to your advantage:

Think evergreen. Instead of always making content for “right now,” start making content that stays useful. A “start here” page, a bio that actually explains what you do, a pinned podcast episode that gives people a clear entry point.

Use social media to send people somewhere that’s yours. Don’t just let Instagram or TikTok be the final destination. Link to your site. Promote your email list. Archive your best work in a place that’s searchable and permanent.

Make your content reusable. One strong story or bit can become a blog, a newsletter, a show opener, a TikTok, a press blurb. You don’t need to reinvent the wheel—you just need to own the wheelhouse.

Don’t wait for someone to “discover” you. Create the discovery engine yourself. Whether it’s SEO, email, or long-form YouTube content—start leaving digital breadcrumbs that lead back to your work.

Owned media is how you stop chasing and start curating. It’s how you shift from hoping people find you to actually building the infrastructure for them to land and stay.

I used to think the only way to stay relevant was to keep shouting louder and more often. But now I get it:

Good content isn’t always loud—it’s lasting.

Owned media gives you a way to show up without burning out. To build something once and let it keep serving you. To stop chasing temporary attention and start creating durable connection.

So next time you’re tempted to rush out another story or throw together another promo post, ask yourself—can I build something that works harder and longer than I do?

That’s the magic of owned media.

And I’m finally learning how to use it.

I hope this post was as helpful to you as it was to me <33

Tchau tchau <33

[laurafaritos]

HDMS046. Owned Media Is Just Having Your Own Stage (And I’m Never Getting Kicked Off Again)

Before this course, I didn’t really know what “owned media” meant. I thought it was a corporate buzzword, or something you needed a whole marketing team to manage. Me? I had social media and vibes.

But this module flipped the switch.

Owned media is basically this: what do you control? What platforms, tools, or channels do you own—so no one can shadowban you, algorithmically erase you, or charge you more just to talk to your own audience?

It’s your website. Your newsletter. Your podcast. Your blog. Your space.

Paid media? That’s renting attention. Earned media? That’s hoping someone talks about you. Owned media? That’s your stage.

And as someone who’s had shows disappear from the feed and content buried by platforms, I’m now realizing: I want a stage no one can kick me off of.

This post breaks down what I learned from Module 4.1.1 of Harvard’s Digital Marketing Strategy course, and why I think every comedian (especially neurodivergent ones like me) should start thinking about what they own online.

This submodule of the Harvard Digital Marketing Strategy course introduced a concept I hadn’t fully grasped before: owned media.

Owned media includes anything a company (or person) controls directly—websites, blogs, email lists, apps, even podcasts and newsletters. It’s the opposite of relying on platforms like Instagram or TikTok, where visibility depends on algorithms, trends, or how much you’re willing to pay.

In the OOFOS case, the brand needed to grow fast, but couldn’t afford to keep pouring money into ads. That’s when owned media became a game-changer. Instead of just renting people’s attention through paid ads, they could speak directly to their audience through their own channels, whenever they wanted.

Sunil Gupta framed it like this: paid media is expensive and competitive, especially for small brands. But owned media? That’s where companies can engage, educate, and retain customers without spending more every time they want to reach someone.

For me, this was a big “wait, why haven’t I been doing this?” moment.

I’d always assumed social media was the only way to stay visible. But this module made me realize: if I’m serious about building a sustainable creative career, I need to start building things I own.

This was the first time I truly saw the value of owned media laid out clearly—and it clicked.

Until now, I’ve mostly relied on platforms I don’t control. Instagram, Threads, TikTok… they’ve been my main ways to promote shows, share content, and stay connected. But they’re unpredictable. Some posts get traction. Others disappear into the void. And if an algorithm decides I’m not trending, too bad.

What this module helped me realize is that I’ve been renting all my audience connections—and I’m ready to own something.

I don’t have a perfect system yet, but I’ve started making moves:

Thinking about what I want my website to actually do (not just exist).

Considering an email list, even if it’s just for sharing upcoming shows or podcast updates.

Looking at my podcast not just as content, but as a space I control—no one’s limiting how I speak, what I say, or how I connect.

This isn’t just a marketing tactic. For someone who’s neurodivergent, this kind of control is comforting. It gives me a home base. A place where I don’t have to adapt my pace, tone, or content to whatever’s trending that day.

I’m not building it all at once. But now I want to build it—because I finally understand what it’s for.

If you’re a comedian or creator relying entirely on Instagram to sell tickets or keep your audience warm—I get it. That’s been me, too. But here’s the truth this module made painfully clear:

The algorithm is not your friend. And your followers aren’t actually yours.

Owned media changes that.

When you build something you control—a website, an email list, a podcast feed—you’re creating direct lines to your audience. No middleman. No boosted post fees. No “why did this only get 12 likes?” meltdown.

Here’s what I’d recommend if you’re just starting:

Start an email list. Even if it’s just 10 people. It’s a direct link to the people who care.

Think of your website as your venue. It’s not just a portfolio—it’s your digital comedy club, and you decide the lineup.

Use your social to feed your owned media. Don’t just chase virality. Send people somewhere that’s actually yours.

This is especially useful for neurodivergent artists. Owned media lets you:

Work at your own pace

Reuse content without starting from scratch every time

Avoid burnout from chasing “what works” this week on social

It’s not about building an empire overnight. It’s about slowly moving your work onto ground that won’t collapse underneath you.

This module was a shift. For the first time, I stopped thinking about promo as just “posting more” and started thinking about building something lasting.

Owned media isn’t flashy. It doesn’t go viral. But it stays. And when the algorithm ghosts you (again), or your followers miss your show (again), it’s your owned channels that still show up for you.

So I’m done renting.

I’m building my stage.

And this time, I’ve got the keys.

I hope this post was as helpful to you as it was to me!!!

Tchau tchau <33

[laurafaritos]

HDMS045: What I Actually Learned About Ads (So You Don’t Have To Take A Harvard Course To Learn It)

I took Harvard’s Digital Marketing Strategy course so you wouldn’t have to—unless you want to, in which case, I hope you also love spreadsheets.

Module 3 was all about paid media: the ads you pay for, the platforms you run them on, the ways you track whether they did anything, and the absolute brain fog that kicks in the first time someone says “branded vs. generic keywords” like that’s normal human language.

But by the end of it? I actually got it. Not just the how of ads, but the when, why, and what-for—and more importantly, how it applies to comedians and creatives who are promoting themselves on a shoestring budget.

This final lesson in the module pulled it all together: search vs. display, performance vs. brand, when to spend money, when to chill, and how to avoid lighting your budget on fire just to feel productive.

Let me show you what I took from it.

I. What Module 3 of Harvard’s Digital Marketing Strategy Course Actually Taught Me

Module 3 was the deep-dive into paid media, and it covered a lot. Here’s what stuck with me most:

Search ads = high-intent, ready-to-buy energy. These are the people already Googling something you offer. You’re just showing up at the right time. For me, that’s like someone typing “Toronto stand-up show” and seeing my show in the results. Low-funnel, high-conversion.

Display ads = brand visibility. These are your posters, reels, sponsored podcast reads—things people see while doing something else. They’re not there to buy right away, but they might remember you later.

There’s no one right answer. The best campaigns combine short-term performance ads (like search) with long-term brand-building (like video or TV). That’s how you keep sales flowing now and plant seeds for later.

Every channel has a job. The mistake is judging brand-building ads like they’re supposed to convert. That’s like blaming your opener for not selling merch.

Budgets need balance. Spend more where it’s working, but don’t cut off top-of-funnel stuff just because it’s not immediately profitable. You need both to survive.

The module wrapped with a question: How can OOFOS keep growing without just throwing more money at ads? The answer? Use owned and earned media—things like social content, newsletters, PR, and word-of-mouth.

That clicked for me. Because that’s how we do it too!!!!!!!!!!!!

II. How I’m Using This in Real Life (Not Just in Theory)

This module made me feel like I finally have a framework for promo—not just vibes and guesswork.

Here’s how I’m applying it:

Search mindset = podcast SEO, event listings, YouTube keywords. When people are already looking for stuff I offer (like sex ed content or comedy shows), I need to make sure I’m easy to find. That means tagging smart, using searchable episode titles, and submitting my show to event platforms.

Display mindset = my “brand voice” online. This includes the chaotic posts I make on Threads, the jokes I share on Instagram, the stories I tell in newsletters. These aren’t direct “BUY TICKETS” ads—but they’re making sure I live in people’s heads. That way, when it is time to promote, they’re already listening.

Budgeting = time + money. I might not have a $25K ad spend like OOFOS, but I do have to manage my creative energy and limited cash. This course helped me realize: if I treat both like currency, I’ll stop wasting them on tactics that don’t align with my goals.

Testing = survival. I’ve already been doing this with my sex ed project—over years, I’ve tried it as a play, a podcast, a doc, a newsletter. This module validated that process. Nothing’s wasted. Everything teaches you something.

Basically: now I know which tools to reach for depending on whether I want people to remember me, engage with me, or buy from me.

III. What Comedians and Creatives Should Know About Paid Media

If you’re a comic, artist, or content creator, here’s the real talk: You’re already doing marketing. You just might not know which part of the funnel you’re in.

This module helped me see the difference between throwing stuff at the internet and being intentional about it. So here’s how to think like a marketer—without becoming one.

Your ticket link posts? That’s performance marketing. It’s bottom-of-funnel. You’re asking for a conversion. That’s okay! But know that it only works if you’ve warmed up your audience beforehand.

Your reels, jokes, random stories about being Brazilian in Canada? That’s brand-building. Top-of-funnel. It gets people to care, so that later, when you do drop a ticket link, they’re more likely to click.

Your time = your budget. If you don’t want to (or can’t) spend money on ads, focus on your owned media: your website, email list, socials. Make sure they actually say who you are and what you do.

Your audience = your asset. Word-of-mouth, shares, DMs, screenshots, fan art—this is your earned media. You don’t pay for it, but it grows your reach faster than most ads.

The big lesson? You don’t need to do everything. You just need to know what each thing is doing.

And honestly, that’s more strategic than half the brands out there.

TL;DR A Comedian's Guide to Paid Media

Before this course, ads felt like a mysterious corporate language I wasn’t invited to understand. Now? I get it.

Paid media isn’t about doing the most—it’s about doing the right thing, at the right time, for the right audience. And whether you’ve got $10 or $10,000, you can use those same principles to promote your art without burning out or selling out.

So yeah, I took the course. I learned the lingo. And now I’m spending smarter, showing up better, and building a brand that actually feels like me.

Tchauuuuu <33

[laurafaritos]

HDMS044: Where Should the Money Go? A Comedian’s Guide to Spending Smart

Every creative hits this moment eventually: you’ve got a tiny budget, a big goal, and no idea where to throw the money. Should you boost an Instagram post? Run Facebook ads? Make a promo video? Print flyers? Bribe your ex into sharing your reel?

This module helped me realize: even million-dollar brands like OOFOS are asking the same questions. Their version has more zeros, but the core issue is the same—how do you spend your money in a way that actually works?

OOFOS is trying to grow sales and brand awareness in a super competitive space. Their paid media strategy is full of trade-offs: short-term vs. long-term, measurable vs. hard-to-track, expensive vs. efficient. And the data? It’s complicated. Some channels (like search ads) are crushing it, while others (like social and TV) are getting more expensive with less return.

This post breaks down how I interpreted OOFOS’s budget dilemmas, what I would’ve done with their media plan, and how this all applies to comedians like us who are trying to stretch every promo dollar without wasting time or energy.

Let’s talk spending smart.

I. What I Learned in Module 3.5.4 of Harvard’s Digital Marketing Strategy Course

This module—3.5.4: Evaluating a Paid Media Budget—was all about making smart decisions with real marketing money. We were given actual past data from OOFOS (the recovery footwear brand we’ve been following the entire course), and asked to analyze how they’ve been spending across different channels—social, search, display, TV, audio, etc.—and decide how we’d allocate their next budget.

Here’s what the data showed:

Search ads were the clear MVP. In early 2022, they had the highest ROAS (Return on Ad Spend)—almost 6 to 1.

Social ads, on the other hand, got more expensive and less effective over time. Their ROAS dropped from 4.74 in 2020 to just 1.39 in the 2022 plan.

TV and digital video were big spend categories with low measurable return—probably useful for brand awareness, but not conversion.

Audio and native ads delivered surprisingly strong results on small budgets, suggesting underused potential.

In our assignments, we were asked to reallocate the 2022 paid media budget based on all this. I chose to:

Decrease spend on social (performance was slipping)

Increase investment in search (best results for short-term revenue)

Keep TV and display stable (good for top-of-funnel visibility)

Cut back digital video (too costly, not converting)

Boost audio and native ads (promising results for low cost)

My reasoning? OOFOS needs to fund what’s working now without starving what will matter later. It’s not about chasing only high ROAS—it’s about balance: sustained visibility plus strategic selling.

II. How This Budgeting Mindset Shows Up in My Career

When I looked at OOFOS’s paid media breakdown, it felt weirdly familiar. Not because I’ve managed million-dollar ad budgets (lol), but because I’ve had to do the exact same mental gymnastics with my own creative promo.

Like: Should I spend $50 boosting a reel? Should I make a poster, even if it only gets 5 likes? Is this podcast guest spot going to help me sell tickets or just help people “know my name”?

This module reminded me that those are the same questions OOFOS is asking—just scaled differently. They’re not just deciding where to spend, they’re asking:

What gives us results we can measure now (search)?

What helps people remember us later (TV, display)?

What surprisingly worked that we should try again (audio, native)?

It’s the exact logic I use when I plan show promos:

I boost posts that are already getting traction (performance marketing)

I do podcasts, write essays, or post jokes knowing they won’t convert tickets right away—but they build a vibe (brand building)

And I always track what worked last time, even if it wasn’t the thing I expected

This isn’t about chasing viral moments. It’s about understanding that every promo move you make either sells something now or builds trust for later. You need both.

III. What Comedians Can Take from This

If you’ve ever stressed over whether to make a show trailer, print flyers, or just post “one more time” on Instagram—congrats, you’ve been doing media budget allocation without realizing it.

This module from the Harvard Digital Marketing Strategy course made it clear that even massive brands like OOFOS have to test, track, and rebalance constantly. And comedians? We’re small but scrappy media machines doing the same thing.

Here’s how you can apply what OOFOS learned:

Treat your time and energy like money. Just because you’re not spending $6.92 million on TV ads doesn’t mean your resources aren’t valuable. If you’re burning out trying to promote, something’s off in the balance.

Track what actually gets people in the room. Not what gets likes. Not what your comic friends hype. What works. That could be one clip. A single tweet. A weird flyer you handed out at a bus stop.

Don’t expect every tactic to convert. Some posts are for ticket links. Some are just to remind people you’re alive and hilarious. The same way OOFOS keeps TV for awareness and search for sales, you need a mix too.

Experiment with “small but mighty” tools. Audio and native ads surprised OOFOS with their impact. What’s your version of that? Is it podcast guest spots? A newsletter? A random post on Threads?

Being strategic doesn’t kill the art—it helps it reach people.

TL;DR On Budgeting Mindsets

The biggest thing I took from this module? Spending smarter doesn’t always mean spending more.

OOFOS didn’t just throw money at every channel—they adjusted based on what actually worked. And when something unexpectedly worked (like audio ads), they paid attention.

As creatives, we have to do the same. Not every flyer, video, or social post is worth your energy. But the right ones? In the right combo? Game-changing.

So next time you’re staring at your promo calendar, ask yourself:

What’s building my brand?

What’s selling the thing?

And what’s just draining me with no return?

That’s media strategy. That’s budgeting with intention. That’s how you keep making art without burning out.

Tchau tchau <333

[laurafaritos]

HDMS043: Do I Build the Brand or Sell the Shoes???? A Comedian’s Take on Marketing Trade-Offs

There’s a moment every creative hits where you’re staring at your laptop thinking, “Should I promote this show again or just focus on reminding people I exist?”

Welcome to the eternal tension between performance marketing and brand building—aka the short game vs. the long game. Sell the shoes, or build the story behind the shoes.

This week’s module zeroed in on how brands like OOFOS try to balance both. On one side, they’ve got their mOOvers campaign, packed with emotional storytelling and brand love from people like Dawn Staley and Alex Smith. That’s their long game—expensive, powerful, and kind of hard to measure.

On the other side, they’ve got search ads, optimized for immediate conversion. Short-term ROI, very measurable, not super sexy.

And guess what? They need both.

This post breaks down how that balance plays out, why metrics alone can’t drive all your decisions, and how comedians (especially neurodivergent ones) can apply this thinking to their own career strategies.

Let’s get into it.

I. What This Module Taught Me (and What I Said)

This module zoomed out a bit to ask a bigger question: How do you measure success when your goals are both short-term and long-term?

OOFOS, the case study brand we’ve been following, is trying to:

Grow revenue now (short-term)

Build brand awareness for future growth (long-term)

And here’s the catch: you can’t measure both goals with the same tools.

For short-term sales, they track things like ROAS (Return on Ad Spend), conversion rates, and cost per click.

For long-term brand-building, they’re using things like brand lift surveys, audience reach, and testimonial engagement.

In my response to the final question, I didn’t choose just brand building or just performance marketing. I picked “something else,” because I really believe OOFOS needs both. If they only go big with expensive emotional campaigns, that’s risky. But if they only push for sales today, they’re not building for tomorrow.

Here’s what I suggested:

Keep mOOvers going, but complement it with lower-cost awareness plays like influencer partnerships, fun social content, and smart video ads.

Track both new customers and brand engagement to see where the growth is really coming from.

Basically: Don’t put all your eggs in the “heartwarming brand story” basket or the “click now” basket. Mix it up.

II. How This Applies to My Career

This entire brand vs. performance conversation hit so hard, because I’ve lived both sides.

When I promote a show, I can either go all-in on the direct ask—“Buy tickets now, here’s the link”—or I can focus on reminding people why they should care in the first place: through jokes, behind-the-scenes posts, vibes, and visibility.

Both are useful. Neither works alone.

If I only post “BUY TICKETS” content, I burn people out. It feels transactional. But if I only post fun, vibey stuff, people forget there's actually a show to come to.

That Threads promo I did for Haunted Comedians back in January? It didn’t feel like it did anything. Low likes, no shares. But two people showed up to the show because of it. That’s brand building working in the background. Quietly. But powerfully.

This module reminded me that just because something doesn’t look successful in the moment doesn’t mean it isn’t working.

And honestly? That’s a huge mindset shift for someone with an AuDHD brain that craves instant feedback and visible results. I’ve learned to ask:

Is this post about sales, or story?

Am I expecting a click, or just trying to show I’m alive and funny?

Knowing the role of each piece of content helps me stop judging everything by the same metric.

III. How Other Comedians Can Apply This

If you’re a comedian (or creative of any kind), you’re already doing some form of brand vs. performance marketing—you just might not be labeling it that way.

Here’s how to start thinking about it in practice:

Performance marketing = direct promo. Show flyers, ticket links, “come see me tonight” posts, tour announcements. These are clear, immediate, and trackable. You’ll know right away if it’s working.

Brand building = content that deepens your connection. Clips, personal stories, jokes, BTS chaos, stuff that makes people say, “I love their vibe.” This might not sell tickets today, but it builds loyalty that pays off later.

And just like OOFOS, you need both.

You don’t have to split your calendar evenly, but you do need to know what your content is doing. Otherwise, you’ll either feel like:

“I’m yelling BUY TICKETS all the time and no one listens,” or

“People love my stuff but no one shows up to anything”

Here’s a simple system:

Before you post anything, ask: Is this brand or performance?

Brand = consistency. Keep showing up, building trust.

Performance = timing. Make the ask when it counts.

If you’re neurodivergent, this also gives you permission to not expect everything to do everything. That kind of clarity is a gift.

TL;DR On Marketing Trade-Offs

You don’t have to choose between being the thoughtful artist and the savvy self-promoter.

Marketing, like comedy, is all about timing and tone. Sometimes you sell the show. Sometimes you sell yourself—your voice, your values, your vibe.

OOFOS reminded me that the most sustainable strategy isn’t about going all-in on one tactic. It’s about knowing which tools support which goals. It’s about trusting that not every ad—or post or joke—needs to hit now to mean something later.

So whether you’re trying to build a brand or sell the damn shoes… just make sure you know which one you’re doing when you hit “post.”

That's it for today!!! Hope you liked it. Tchau tchau <33