Creative Audacity: Why Playing It Safe Is Killing Your Best Work

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I used to think the goal of creative work was to make something everyone would love.

That's what kept me up at night—imagining all the ways my work might fall short, all the people who wouldn't get it, all the criticism that would prove I wasn't good enough. So I'd play it safe. Strip out anything too personal, too bold, too much like me. I'd sand down the edges until what was left was smooth, inoffensive, and completely forgettable.

Then I moved to LA and started going to acting auditions. And I kept hearing the same piece of advice over and over: "Make a bold choice. Make a strong choice. Even if it's the wrong one."

At first, I didn't get it. Wasn't the point to give them what they wanted? To figure out the "right" answer and deliver it perfectly?

But here's what I learned after dozens of auditions: The callbacks came when I took risks. The terrible auditions—and I mean catastrophically bad—happened when I played it safe, trying to anticipate what they wanted instead of making a choice and committing to it.

Casting directors see hundreds of people reading the same lines. They're not looking for perfect. They're looking for memorable. And safe is never memorable.

The same is true for your creative work. When you try to make everyone happy, you make work that sounds like everyone else's. When you make bold choices—even ones that won't land with certain people—you create something that's actually yours.

A friend from high school DM'd me recently and said: "I think we just need to embrace our Audacity." And it hit me: creative audacity isn't about making work everyone loves. It's about making work that matters to you, even when—especially when—people have opinions about it.

Make the Bold Choice (Even When It's Wrong)

Think about the books or art that changed your life. Were they universally loved? Probably not. Were they trying to appeal to everyone? Definitely not. They were bold. Specific. Unapologetically themselves. And that's exactly why they mattered.

Safe doesn't get remembered. And it definitely doesn't get you anywhere.

When you make bold choices, even ones that might be "wrong," you create something distinct. Something that finds its people instead of trying to be for everyone.

A literary friend once read my writing and told me: "Your work is so easy to read." I could hear the judgment—it wasn't intellectual enough, not complex enough to be taken seriously.

And you know what? She was right. My writing IS easy to read. And I'm done apologizing for it.

Because I'd rather create something people actually finish than something that makes them feel inadequate. I'd rather be clear than impressive. I'd rather be myself than try to sound like what I think a "real writer" should sound like.

Sometimes Your Work Isn't the Problem

Elizabeth Gilbert submitted an essay to an editor. Rejected.

Years later, after she'd had success with other work, that same editor encountered that same essay again. Nothing had changed. Not one word. But suddenly the editor couldn't stop gushing about how brilliant it was.

The essay wasn't the problem. The editor's perception was.

This story lives in my head because we torture ourselves trying to "fix" our work when sometimes it's just about timing. Or taste. Or whether the gatekeeper is having a good day. Or a thousand other factors completely outside our control.

You can't control when other people are ready for what you're creating. You can't control whether your style matches what's currently trendy. You can't control whether someone "gets" your work.

But you can control whether you keep creating anyway.

Marie Forleo asks this question in her book Everything Is Figureoutable: "If you believe to your core that everything really is figureoutable, what would you create?"

What would you create if you stopped waiting for everyone to love it first?

Stop Hiding Your Personality

Another literary friend told me about writing my novel: "Make it funny, Amanda—you're funny."

I'd been trying to write something deep and serious, stripping out my personality to seem more "legitimate." Trying to be someone I thought would be more acceptable in literary circles.

But the work that matters comes from people willing to show up fully. Humor and all. Quirks and all. Voice and all.

Yes, learn your craft. Take useful feedback seriously. But at some point, you have to stop asking "what do they want?" and start declaring "here's what I'm bringing."

Not everyone will get it. Some people will think it's too easy to read. Too funny. Too serious. Too weird. Too normal. Too much of whatever they're not looking for.

And you have to create it anyway.

Because your personality isn't a liability—it's your competitive advantage. There are thousands of books on any topic. What makes yours different isn't the information. It's that you wrote it.

We Are Who We Believe We Are

CS Lewis said: "We are who we believe we are."

Who do you believe you are, deep down? Is that person showing up in your work? Or have they been hiding, dimming their light to avoid criticism?

Creative audacity doesn't guarantee everyone will love what you make. It doesn't even guarantee success. It just means you believed in yourself enough to make it anyway.

And that's infinitely more valuable than creating safe work you don't even care about just to avoid someone's opinion.

The story changes every single day. Every time you create something new, you're adding a chapter. What feels like an ending—a rejection, harsh feedback, someone not getting it—is just one scene in a much longer narrative.

People need what only you can create. Not the watered-down version you think will make everyone happy. The real thing. Your specific voice, your perspective, your willingness to be fully yourself even when some people won't love it.

What would you create if you had the audacity to make it anyway?

🎧 Listen to the full episode: The Audacity Episode