I’ve got the title I always wanted, so why don’t I feel creative anymore?

This post is part of THE DEEP STUFF — reflective answers to the questions senior creatives ask when confidence and direction start to shift.

I write these pieces as a coach and a former creative director. I work with experienced creative leaders who are navigating confidence loss, change, and the pressure to stay relevant. No platitudes. No fridge magnet philosophy. Just saying what I hear.


This question came from a Creative Director who is very much still delivering great work (top 10 agency all good on paper) just not feeling it.

So we’re not talking about a lack of ideas, just absence of that familiar feeling; this is why I do what I do.

Early in your career, creativity is visible. The sheer adrenalin rush of ideas and the reward when an idea gets the nod from the team. Late nights. Shared pride. As we advance in our careers we tend to tap into a different type of creative skill. This one lives in judgement rather than output. The skill of holding back on an idea (political sensitivity) or the space you hold for others to make the work.


Taste. Timing. Restraint. None of these look particularly creative from the outside, and they rarely feel creative on the inside.

So when a Creative Director says they don’t feel creative anymore, it’s flagging up a few things. But to my mind a big one is, what I call, Static Mastery. You know that thing do when you jump to a solution. based on experience? When you share what you think will work even before the brief is finished. The problem with this is that whilst you might be thinking, ‘I’ve still got it”, what you are actually doing is stemming your curiousity. It’s often a catch 22, as a senior you are expected to ‘know’ and deliver consistent feedback all day, everyday, which may not leave much space for, ‘what if’. Maybe you know the client just that little bit too well and you take calculated decisions against a risk that might just bite you on the bum later.

There’s a loss here that doesn’t get talked about enough.  The loss of being hands-on.
The loss of beginner energy. The loss of being surprised by your own ideas.

No one tells you that progressing in creative leadership often requires you to sacrifice the very thing that got you there. And because this loss is invisible ( and often wrapped in success ) it’s easy to dismiss it. To tell yourself to be grateful. To keep going.

I remember this feeling all too well. After years of working hard and trying different things, the communications agency that I ran with my creative partner was finally doing really well - we had 40+ staff, just won our first award at Cannes and Campaign named us the fastest growing small agency of the year. I remember sitting on the train on my way to the office and I couldn’t have felt emptier or sadder. I couldn’t have predicted the next line of events, the stress of an economic downturn and an impending sale, but at that time all I wanted to do was turn the clock back to the day I sat and crafted copy in our little office space in Camden - the hours of perfecting 8 lines of prose after 3 pints of cider in the pub. I’m pretty sure (actually very sure as I know my team would verify) that I brought that loss into the office in the form of disengagement, restlessness and just being a bit arsey.

What I’ve learned (the hard way) is the power of acceptance.

So rather than ask, ‘How do I get my creative mojo back?’ Ask…

Where does my creativity live now?
What kind of creative am I becoming?
What have I stopped making space for?

This isn’t about forcing inspiration, taking a course, or finding a side project to “feel like yourself again”.  It’s about recognising that something has shifted and deciding how you want to work with that shift

It’s a signal. And signals, when you’re willing to notice them, tend to lead somewhere honest.

If you like this mini series and have a question you don’t mind being answered publicly (no names obvs) get in touch by email jude@theshapeshifter.co.uk

Discover more thinking from THE DEEP STUFF — the real questions senior creatives ask.

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I don’t see anyone in the creative dept that looks like me.

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I’ve been a Creative Director for 20 years but something has changed. Bored, burnt out, or is it confidence?