The first, last, and only time I talked to Carrie Brownstein on the phone was in 2011, and I was having an existential crisis.

She didn’t know because I was a Seattle Times journalist interviewing her and, frankly, it would have been pretty weird if I had just started in on how I had built a whole career talking about other people’s art and shoving mine under the floorboards but how now my own need to create, be seen, and be heard as an artist in my own right was tearing the house apart from the inside out.

I recently put out an ask to connect with writers who sit in the sweet spot between gaming, AR/VR, and immersive. I was floored by the number of responses I got— literally hundreds. The job industry for creatives, particularly those who have been working in gaming/film/TV is scary right now. And there are a TON of super talented people looking for opportunities, particularly in the Wild West that is “immersive” because it is still growing. (Though we are also still figuring out what this industry is and how to make money in it).

I’ve had quite a few people ask me recently what I look for in a portfolio or in someone’s background when I’m hiring for an immersive project, so I want to give y’all some ideas.

I led narrative/story design for Meow Wolf’s Las Vegas exhibition Omega Mart. Have you been? The story is deep, complicated, and, arguably, a key reason the exhibition has been so successful!

A story doesn’t have to mean characters and a beginning, middle, and end. Story is the why for the audience: why am I here and why should I care? When I work as a creative director for a brand activation or interactive experience, I always start with story.

Are you asking the right story questions in order to make your experience stand out AND stick?

Here are some of the most important things I learned about story from designing Omega Mart.

I often sit down at my computer to write, and I just don’t want to. I have my list of projects, some of them paid, some of them artistic projects that could be paid in the future if I just finish them, and all I want to do is check my email and look at Instagram.

So, what now? I know it will feel good to write, or at least to have written. I know some of my livelihood depends on my ability to get into flow.

But also… it kind of can’t be forced. All this rhetoric about discipline and pushing yourself to just do it… It’s counterproductive. You might bully yourself into squeezing out a few ounces of creativity, but it’s not going to make you want to sit down tomorrow.

See, a creative practice relies on dopamine rewards. And not external ones like getting a “like” or a comment, but intrinsic ones. Yourself rewarding yourself for doing good work. You have to feel good about the work you’ve done in order to want to keep doing it.

So, when I’m stuck in “I don’t want to,” here are 6 things I’ll do to actually get myself excited.

One of the best things I did for my creative practice was become an energy worker. Here's what I've learned about how to quickly drop into inspiration for your next writing project.

From my experience and many, many conversations with artists and creative workers, here are seven categories of support that are essential to maximize creativity at work.

I recently I wrote and published an article in response to Meow Wolf announcing it would lay off 165 people. It was a heartbroken attempt to put language around the ways I’ve seen Meow Wolf—and many other large-scale companies with creativity as part of their mission statement—fall victim to a model that continually chooses profit over people.

I did not expect that so many of you would resonate so deeply – at this moment, the article has 327,597 impressions, 517 comments, and 185 reshares. I’ve gotten messages from hundreds of you saying a version of the same thing: me too.

I want to try to wrap my arms around some of the themes that are emerging in these conversations as a way to start a larger, far-reaching dialogue among us all about what can be done to strike a better balance between the necessities of art and those of capitalism. Because the biggest takeaway for me is that, yes, we’re in a system that’s broken and disproportionately benefiting a few at the top, BUT we– humans who want to use our creativity to change the world– are mighty.

Meow Wolf just announced it will lay off 165 people tomorrow. I haven't been very vocal about my choice to leave Meow Wolf in December after nearly 6 years (I was the Director of Exhibition Narrative and then the Senior Story Creative Director for the Santa Fe-based immersive art/entertainment company). I really love and respect so many people who have helped shape Meow Wolf: from its inception, into its corporate shape, and today as the company tries to figure out how much money it can make and at what cost. I haven't wanted to be publicly critical and risk diminishing a lot of amazing work and dedication.

Speaking about my experience is to acknowledge the ways Meow Wolf has failed its lifeblood: its artists, creatives, and on-the-ground creative operators. In light of these layoffs - coming after I watched the company bloat at its senior leadership levels, offering astronomical salaries to entice former Disney, Nickelodeon, and other corporate bigwigs - I feel the need to say a few things that have been on my mind in the hopes that Meow Wolf, and other companies whose success rests on the work of creatives, do the hard work of applying creativity to not just their product but also the internal workings of the company.