The Business Behind the Beauty

When I finally realized I was destined to be a creative, I felt liberated.

I get to be like all those glamorous women on the screen. Think Emily in Paris, The Devil Wears Prada, and Sex and the City. I get to move through life effortlessly, letting fine meals and destinations and even finer people and experiences inspire me. I get to use that inspiration to make something deeply needed and wildly valued. Viewers will see it, praise me, and I’ll create more. And it’ll be one beautiful, cyclical career for me.

At least, that’s what I thought.

But that’s not how it goes. At all.

The Emotional Cost of Creation

Creating something for someone else is deeply personal. And maybe that’s why I avoided it for so long, because I struggle with vulnerability. (But that’s a conversation for another post.)

When you design for a person, team, or brand, you're not just plugging things into Canva. You're drawing on your taste, your style, your skill set, and your intellect. You're filtering the request through your lived experience and your creative lens. That’s intimate. That’s real. That’s vulnerable.

So when you present that work, you’re not just offering a draft. You’re offering a piece of how you see the world. And feedback can feel like someone snatched your lens, stomped on it, and told you to go get another pair. Or in kinder cases, it can feel like they’re asking for a different tint. And in the best case, they love it; they want your lens; they’re downright begging to know where you got it.

A Recent Example

Just last week, I designed a piece of content for my husband’s football team: the season schedule.

Now, if you’ve never worked in athletic communications, let me explain. This is the post of the season. The one that gets shared, saved, reposted, and referenced. The one that sets the tone for everything to come. I take it seriously every single year.

This time, I did what I always tell my clients to do: start with clarity. I asked my husband exactly what he wanted. He said: the new logo, all brand colors, and a group shot (as opposed to individual photos like last year). I said: got it.

I designed a draft. It included the new logo and a group photo, but I hadn’t used all the brand colors yet. We both agreed it felt a little dark and that a lighter group photo might work better. I found one, adjusted the design, and gave him two options. He picked one.

Then I spent 2–3 hours building the final piece. It had a new layout, balanced colors, polished effects, and all the pieces placed just right. I showed it to him with a little flutter in my chest.

He squinted. Paused. And said, “Hm.”

Just... hm.

After what felt like an eternity, I asked, “Just hm?”
He replied, “I’m thinking.”
Then came the truth: he didn’t like the group shot. And he thought the overall design was too bright. He wanted something simpler.

I closed my laptop and went to bed.

I did not go to sleep.

And when he got in bed, I let him have it. Poor guy.

What It Triggered

Later, when we were talking calmly (read: after I had released some steam), I told him it triggered two kinds of doubt in me: business doubt and creative doubt.

Business doubt made me feel like I’d failed at the basics. I hadn’t fully grasped what my client wanted. I wasted hours on a design that wouldn’t even be used. And I spiraled. Am I even good at this? Maybe I’m only good at making stuff I like. Maybe this is just a hobby, not a profession.

Creative doubt cut even deeper. It made me question my taste, my design sense, and my aesthetic. Was I just off? Had I missed the mark completely? Maybe I’m not cut out for athletic branding. Maybe I need fancier tools or formal training. Maybe I’m not that girl.

This wasn’t just a disagreement about a photo. It was a moment that echoed every quiet fear I’ve had about being a creative entrepreneur.

Reframing Rejection

But once I stopped spiraling and gave myself some rest, I realized something: Approval is not the same as worth.

Just because someone doesn’t like a draft doesn’t mean I’m not good at what I do. Their preferences don’t cancel out my skill.

Because just as personal as my design work is to me, it’s personal to them, too. Especially when you’re working in a field like athletics, where legacy, image, and pride are all tangled up in the branding. Eddie wasn’t rejecting me. He was reacting to how his team was represented.

That perspective helped me shift from seeing it as rejection to seeing it as collaboration. And collaboration, by nature, means there’s room to go back and forth. To offer adjustments. To explain choices. To find the best solution together.

I don’t have to shrink or surrender every time someone pushes back. I can say, “Here’s why I chose this,” and ask, “What’s the feeling you’re trying to capture?” That’s design and strategy. That’s the real work.

What Keeps Me Going

That realization—paired with my spiritual work, my therapy, and the occasional solo cry at my laptop—keeps me going.

Also, I really do love it.

I love taking nothing and turning it into something. I love honoring a story or identity through color and font, and layout. I love hearing, “That’s exactly what I was trying to say.”

And yes, it stings when people don’t get it the first time. But more often than not, they do get it. My work hits. It resonates. It connects.

That’s what I hold onto.

Because I believe God gave me this gift for a reason. Not for perfect praise or fast payments. But to create beauty that serves a purpose. And when I remember that, I can press on.

To Every Creative Who’s Been Rejected

To the designers, writers, photographers, and brand builders pouring your soul into your work:

Keep going.
Not because everyone loves it, but because you were called to do it.
Not because it’s always easy, but because you can do hard things.
Not because you’re perfect, but because your gift is powerful, even when it’s questioned.

And when rejection comes (because it will), take a beat. Then take a breath. Then get back to creating.

Because your lens is still worth seeing through.

If this post resonated with you, you’re my kind of creative. Let’s connect, commiserate, and build something beautiful anyway. You can find me on Instagram @imlaurenmarie. I share behind-the-scenes reflections, branding advice, and lots of love for the ones doing the unseen work.