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That everyone looks the same, talks the same, posts the same morning routine, drinks the same matcha, wears the same clothes and somehow has the exact same opinion on everything.

And I agree.

But I don’t think creators just woke up one day and lost their personalities. I think the internet has bullied it out of them.

Having an unpopular opinion is risky. Talking about your relationship is risky. Saying something before you’ve perfectly thought it through is risky. Being too successful is risky. Being too vulnerable is risky. Even apologising wrong is risky.

Everyone is so scared to be cancelled.

We’ve basically bullied the edges off people and then wonder why everyone feels the same.

We tell influencers to show more personality, but if that personality includes an opinion we don’t agree with, suddenly they shouldn’t have a platform.

We say we’re tired of everyone being fake, but being genuinely yourself means occasionally being unlikeable.

We complain that creators never share anything personal anymore, then dissect every detail of their relationships when they do.

We want them to share their struggles, but accuse them of complaining when their life looks privileged.

We complain that everyone posts the same content, while repeatedly giving the same trends and content the most attention.

People are messy and complicated. They contradict themselves. They change their minds. Sometimes they say something badly. Sometimes they believe something for years and then realise they were wrong.

But online, there isn’t much room to be messy and nuanced.

If one type of morning routine gets millions of views, suddenly everyone has that morning routine. If one hook works, you hear it 100 times that week. If a certain aesthetic is performing, everyone’s house slowly starts looking like the same Pinterest board.

We complain that creators are carbon copies of each other while constantly rewarding the carbon copies.

And I think money sits underneath a lot of the resentment too. The belief that they didn’t really earn it. That being an influencer isn’t difficult enough to justify that amount of money. That someone filming their life shouldn’t be earning more than a doctor, teacher or lawyer.

Do I think influencers should be paid more than doctors or nurses? Of course not. But income has never been distributed according to how hard or socially valuable a job is. Some of the hardest-working people in the world are the least paid.

Influencing exposes that uncomfortable reality because the numbers can become so extreme, so quickly, and so publicly.

Attention has become an asset, and people who know how to build and monetise it can make enormous amounts of money.

But I think the more interesting part is what happens once they do.

We love watching someone become successful. We seem to have a much more complicated relationship with watching them actually be successful.

And once people already dislike someone for their success, almost anything can become evidence for why they deserve to be taken down.

So they become more careful. More calculated. They start sharing less of their human side and more likely to just post what has already been proven to work.

Then we look around and wonder why every influencer feels exactly the same.

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You have probably seen the videos online. Creators making five (or even six) figures a MONTH from brand deals. And you are probably wondering how much of it is real.

Most of it is. I know because I lived it.

I have been negotiating lucrative brand deals for myself and my students for years now and I feel like I have genuinely seen it all. In the past two months I’ve been paid out over $40k in brand deals and it’s not even my main source of income.

But I’ve also seen creators with hundreds of thousands and even millions of followers who can barely land a paid deal. And creators with under 20k followers who are making a decent living from it.

A lot has changed in the brand deal space this year and follower counts are becoming one of the lesser important metrics. What actually matters is how you have positioned your account, your content, and your audience.

Here’s what we’ll be covering in today’s post:

• The different types of brand deals available

• How to position your account to attract brands

• Whether niching down is important

• How to get on a brand’s radar before pitching

• How much creators are charging, with real examples

• Whether talent management is worth the commission

• What to look for before signing a brand contract

• Long term partnerships

Let’s goooo!

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And the good news is, June is a really strong content month.

It has Pride Month, World Environment Day, Men’s Health Month, Father’s Day in the US and UK, International Yoga Day, the start of the FIFA World Cup, summer energy in the northern hemisphere, winter reset energy in Australia, and the end of financial year for Australian creators and business owners.

And of course, the start of European summer taking over our feeds!

Basically, there is a lot to work with.

This post is your full June content calendar for creators broken down by niche. I will be sharing fresh ideas here every month.

These are not generic prompts. They are actual ideas you can take, make your own, and post this week.

If your niche is not listed or you want ideas more specific to what you create, drop it in the comments and I will add it in.

Let’s get into it!

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The overly aggressive DMs the second you follow someone, the captions that read like a used car salesman wrote them at 11pm, the creators who only show up when they have something to sell. You know exactly what it looks like because you have unfollowed people for it.

And then there is another version. Where someone just keeps showing up, sharing what they know, talking about their life and their work, and somehow every few weeks you find yourself clicking the link, reading the sales page, and buying something without ever feeling like you were sold to.

That second version is what this post is about.

The good news is that selling through content is a skill, and once you understand how it actually works, it stops feeling gross and starts feeling like a natural extension of everything you are already doing.

The reason selling feels salesy in the first place

Most people feel uncomfortable selling because they are treating their content and their sales pitch as two separate things. The content is where they are helpful and relatable and human, and then the selling is this awkward gear change where suddenly they are listing features and adding exclamation marks and saying things like “spots are filling fast.”

The audience feels that gear change. It is jarring. It signals that the creator has stopped talking TO them and started talking AT them (another reason people unfollow btw).

The fix is not to get better at pitching.

It is to stop pitching altogether and start selling through the content itself, so that by the time someone sees your offer, they have already talked themselves into it.

Also, if your offer genuinely helps people, you should never feel uncomfortable selling it. It is your duty. Because if you do not, someone else will sell to them instead, and that person might not be able to deliver the results you can. Now they have wasted time, wasted money, and they are further from where they want to be than when they started.

Ready? Let’s get into it…

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Part of it is research, part of it is genuine curiosity, and part of it is just being a girl on the internet. Either way, I'm always noticing little patterns in what's performing, what's shifting, and what's quietly dying off.

So I'm starting a new series on this substack where I share all of it with you each month, the formats working right now, the trends fading out, and the updates worth paying attention to.

Let’s talk about what’s performing right now…

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This post is your full May content calendar for creators broken down by niche. I’ll be sharing my ideas here every month.

I have covered lifestyle, fashion and beauty, travel, food, wellness, fitness, business, career, finance, realtors, and motherhood — with specific content ideas for each one that you can take and make your own. These are not generic prompts. They are actual ideas you can film, write, or design this week with examples.

If your niche is not listed or you want ideas more specific to what you create, drop it in the comments and I will add it in.

Let’s get into it.

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Same niche, same follower count, posting roughly the same amount. One is constantly chasing brand deals, refreshing their analytics, and quietly panicking every time their engagement dips. The other has a waitlist for their digital product, an email list they own, and a business is making $30k a month while they were travelling.

Most people online who call themselves creators are not actually building a brand. They are building a content habit. And those are two very different things with two very different futures attached to them.

To understand the difference, you need to understand the three types of creators that exist right now.

The Three Types of Creators

The Influencer monetises their public image through brand deals, sponsorships, and paid partnerships. Their currency is relevance, and the problem with relevance is that it has a shelf life. You have to earn it again and again, every single day, for as long as you want the income to keep flowing. Think about the influencers who were everywhere five years ago. The ones whose relevance did not translate into something they actually owned are largely gone. It is a model that works until it does not, and the switch is rarely on your terms.

The Content Creator monetises their actual content production. UGC, photography, videography, creative work for brands. This is how a lot of travel creators actually get paid, not through their following but through the content itself. It is a real skill and a legitimate income stream, but it is fundamentally a service business. You are trading time for money, the ceiling is low, and with AI getting better every month, the demand for human-produced content is only going to get more competitive and more volatile.

The Creator CEO (also called a creatorpreneur, or someone building a creator brand) is doing something different entirely. They are building a brand that exists beyond the content, beyond the algorithm, and eventually beyond them personally. They use content as the engine, but the destination is a business with real products, real revenue, and real longevity.

That third category is what this post is about.

What a Creator Brand Actually Looks Like

A creator brand is not just a creator who sells something. It is a full ecosystem where your content, your audience, your products, and your positioning all work together toward something bigger than any individual post.

The goal is to build something you do not have to be attached to every single day. Something you can hire into, outsource, and scale. Something that could, if you wanted it to, exist without you being the one running it. Something you could even sell one day.

Most creator brands go the digital product route because the margins make sense. No inventory, no fulfilment, no physical logistics, and you can scale without adding more hours to your week.

But the model works for physical products too, and you can layer in brand deals, affiliate income, and other revenue streams on top of it. The point is that you are building something you own. The point is that you are building something you own, not renting attention from a platform and hoping the brand deals keep coming.

Here is how you actually build it.

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The cohesive feed, the colour palette, the polished bio (hot take: we are putting way too much focus on bios). And while those things matter, they are the last layer, not the foundation.

When I started creating, I focused on all of it. How everything looked, how consistent my feed was, whether my content felt “on brand.” What actually built my audience to 700k and turned my brand into a seven-figure business had almost nothing to do with any of that. It had everything to do with how people felt when they found me.

The creators with brands people love have figured out something most people miss. It’s not about how you look, but rather how you make people feel.

There is a reason some creators build audiences that actually buy, refer, and stick around for years while others with similar content and similar follower counts stay stuck. It is not talent. It is not timing. It is not even the algorithm.

It comes down to a handful of principles that most people have never been taught, and once you understand them, everything about the way you approach your content and your brand starts to look different.

Here is the psychology behind it.

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There. I said it. And I want you to notice what just happened when you read that. A little cringe, maybe? A slight recoil? Yeah. Me too. Even typing it, I felt the immediate urge to follow it up with something softer. I mean, not like, obscenely rich. Just comfortable. Just secure. Just... enough.

That instinct to walk it back is exactly what this article is about.

I grew up in a household where money was the central topic of every single conversation. Not because we had it. Because we didn't. We couldn't go on the trip. We couldn't get the thing everyone else had. We couldn't do this, couldn't afford that. Money was everywhere in our house, all the time, taking up all the air in the room, because the absence of it dictated everything.

You’d think that would make wanting it feel natural. That someone who grew up without financial security would have no problem saying she’s building toward it. But that’s not how money trauma works. What it actually did was wrap money in a thick layer of shame and anxiety, so that wanting it felt dangerous. Like admitting something you weren’t supposed to need. Like need itself was the problem.

And then I grew up, and the culture just piled on.

Growing up as a girl in Australia, the message was pretty clear. You could be ambitious, sure. Smart, driven, successful in a quiet "good things happen to hard workers" kind of way. But openly wanting money? Wanting to be wealthy? That was loud. That was tacky. That wasn't what nice girls did.

The version of financial security we were handed as women was always softer, always indirect. And if it ever came up in conversation, the answer looked something like: find a man who has it. Attach yourself to someone else’s ambition. Want it quietly, by proximity.

I absorbed that completely. More than I realised.

Then I built a career as a creator, something I had a passion for. I started creating because I had things to say and an itch to connect.

But there was an unwritten rule in the influencer space that I absorbed without realising it. You can be passionate. You can be purposeful. You can talk about community and impact and changing lives. What you cannot do, at least not without a certain kind of judgment following you, is admit that you also want to be paid well for it. That you have financial goals. That building a business that makes real money is part of the point.

The moment money enters the conversation openly, something shifts in how people see you. Suddenly the passion feels performative. The purpose feels like a sales pitch. As if wanting both — to love what you do and to be well compensated for it — is somehow suspicious.

I internalised that completely. I was already someone who had spent years making herself palatable, shrinking herself to be liked, being careful not to want too loudly. The influencer world gave that tendency a whole new place to live.

And then there’s the Australian thing. The tall poppy syndrome. The cultural reflex to cut down anyone who gets too big, too bold, too openly proud of what they’re building. You feel it before you can name it. That pull to minimise, to throw in the self-deprecating joke, to make sure nobody thinks you believe you’re better than them. It becomes so habitual you stop noticing you’re doing it.

But then I turned 30 and something shifted.

It wasn’t a single moment. It was more like the slow accumulation of a lot of small ones. Watching myself shrink in conversations about money while privately wanting more. Watching myself couch every ambition in careful disclaimers. Watching myself build something big, something I had poured years into, and still downplaying it so no one felt uncomfortable.

And at some point I just thought: I am the only one who suffers from this.

The women I was staying small for were not benefitting from my smallness. My audience didn’t need me to pretend I wasn’t financially motivated so they could feel better about themselves. The people who would recoil at “I want to be rich” were not the people I was building this for.

Rebuilding my personal brand on my own terms gave me the space to figure out who I actually am without all that coating. And who I actually am is someone who grew up without money, who has worked incredibly hard, who believes in what she’s building, and who wants financial freedom. Fully.

Here's what I want you to take from this, because I know this isn't just my story.

Wanting money is not the same as being greedy. It is not selfish to want financial security. It is not “too much” to want a business that pays you well, a life that affords you choices, a future where you are not entirely at the mercy of whatever comes next.

Money in good hands does good. Your hands are good. You wanting more does not take a single thing from anyone else.

The version of ambition we were handed as women was always the palatable kind. The kind that looked nice and didn’t make anyone squirm. But the women I find most compelling are not quietly ambitious. They are clear about what they want. They talk about money openly. They build things on purpose, not by accident, and they do not apologise for it.

You are allowed to want more. You are allowed to say it out loud. And if the people around you flinch when you do, that is their work, not yours.

I still feel the pull sometimes. The urge to soften it, walk it back, make sure everyone knows I also care about things beyond the money. (I do. Deeply.)

But I am done letting that urge run the show.

I want to be rich. I want financial freedom. I want my business to grow in ways that give me real choices. And I want to show other women that wanting these things is not something to carry shame around.

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I’ve never seen this level of evolution in how people engage, consume, trust, and buy, and you can feel it everywhere. I’ve noticed it in my own content and in the conversations I have with creators every day.

There’s this new energy online that’s hard to ignore. Algorithms feel unpredictable in a way that keeps you on your toes, attention feels sharper and harder to earn, and people want more from the creators they follow. More depth, more intention, more substance.

This whole year has felt like one big reminder that nothing in this industry stays still, no matter how long you’ve been here. And if you’re building an online business or growing your platform, the next chapter is going to ask you to think a little differently and move a little smarter.

I’ve been feeling it in my gut for months.

So here are my predictions for 2026 and, more importantly, what you should be focusing on right now to set yourself up for what’s coming next.

Get ready, this one is juicy.

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I don’t mean a cute little burnout moment. I mean full emotional wipeout. I hit the point where I couldn’t tell if I was tired or just deeply uninspired — and either way, I knew something had to change.

Everyone asks why I left Melbourne, and honestly, it wasn’t one big thing. It was a slow build-up of little ones that I tried to ignore until I couldn’t anymore.

The isolation. The cold. The way life just… ends at 5pm. The tall poppy energy. The lack of creative community. The endless cycle of working to afford a life I didn’t even have time to enjoy. The subtle feeling that dreaming big makes people uncomfortable.

You know that quiet kind of exhaustion that creeps in when you’re living a version of your life that doesn’t fit anymore? That’s where I was.

Australia will always be home, but it stopped feeling like the place I could expand in. I felt like I was constantly pushing against an invisible ceiling.

I craved warmth, creativity, and connection. I wanted to wake up somewhere that made me feel alive again. Somewhere that didn’t make me feel weird for wanting more.

So I came here. To Bali.

This isn’t another “I moved to Bali” highlight reel. It’s the honest version – what it’s really like to rebuild your creativity, run a business, and live in a place that makes you question everything you thought you wanted.

In this post, I’m going to share:

• Whether I see myself staying long-term (and what’s next)

• The truth about whether Bali is worth it for creators and entrepreneurs

• My fave spots to work, eat, relax and live

• The exact steps I’d take to build a creator business that lets you live anywhere in the world

• What it actually costs to live here (my expenses broken down)

• How living abroad changed my mindset around rest, success, and self-worth

• What a typical day in the life looks like here

• And whether paradise actually feels like paradise when you live in it

But this post isn’t going to sugarcoat it. This is the unfiltered version.

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I’m burnt out.

Like, really burnt out. The kind where you’re working 13-hour days and somehow making less money than when you worked half as much. The kind where you’ve consumed so much content “for research” that you can’t even hear your own thoughts anymore. The kind where you haven’t posted on your own social media in weeks because you’re too busy perfecting everyone else’s strategy.

It hit me a few months ago, though honestly, I think I’ve been ignoring the signs for way longer than that.

Somewhere along the way, I started putting so much pressure on myself that the goalposts kept moving further and further away. Every achievement felt ordinary because “anyone can do this if they follow the same path” – it’s literally what I teach. I never let myself celebrate anything because in my mind, it wasn’t that special.

And when someone invests in me? When a real person chooses to put their trust and money into what I’m offering? I take that so seriously that I go above and beyond what any ordinary person would do. I work myself into the ground to make sure they know they made the right choice.

The crazy part is that all this extra work isn’t even helping my business.

I’ve been working on all the wrong things – tweaking the website for the hundredth time, perfecting funnels that were already working, brainstorming content ideas until my brain felt like mush. Busy work that made me feel productive but didn’t actually move the needle on sales.

Work I should have delegated months ago, but I’m a control freak (that’s a whole other story).

In school, I never did homework and barely cared about putting in effort at my 9-5. But with my own business? I’m so passionate about helping people and building something meaningful. I wouldn’t mind waking up at 6am or working late if it meant making a real difference. I genuinely LOVE what I do.

That’s when it becomes dangerous.

When you love something so much, you want to pour everything into it. You lose sight of boundaries. You start living exactly the opposite of what you preach.

This isn’t the lifestyle I want to live, and it isn’t the lifestyle I want YOU to live either.

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I get asked this question almost daily: “If you had to start over from zero tomorrow, what would you do?”

First of all, let’s just knock on every piece of wood in sight because I am not trying to test the universe. But for the sake of this article, let’s imagine this horror scenario.

I wake up. Grab my phone. Open Instagram. Error message. My accounts? Gone. Years of content, gone. My email list? Deleted. Bank account? Let’s not even go there.

Would I go crawling back to corporate? Absolutely not. Would I panic-apply to every "marketing coordinator" role on LinkedIn? Please. I'd rather eat gas station sushi.

After the initial meltdown, though, I’d pull it together.

Because I know exactly how to rebuild a 7-figure creator business from scratch — only this time, I’d do it faster, smarter, and without half the mistakes I made the first time around.

I built my business from the ground up with zero experience, no business degree, an irrational fear of being on camera, and more insecurity than I care to admit (sometimes I genuinely don’t know how I pulled it off).

What I did have? Strategy, a lot of trial and error, and the guts to keep showing up even when I felt like a total imposter.

So if everything disappeared tomorrow, I’d rebuild using the same foundations that got me here – because they work.

I’d still be creating brand-building content that attracts the right people. I’d still be landing collaborations. I’d still be leveraging my social currency. And I’d definitely still be launching digital courses, because nothing beats waking up to Stripe notifications.

Like this was today 👇 …never gets old.

The difference now is that I know the shortcuts.

There's actually a formula to this whole thing that helped me grow 800k followers organically across two Instagram accounts: a personal brand and a business, both of which I still run myself (sometimes I feel insane).

Andddd make millions through brand deals and digital courses.

So here’s what we’re doing. I’m giving you the exact roadmap I’d follow if I had to start again from absolute zero — the same steps I’d use to go from nothing to 7 figures, only way faster this time.

We’re talking how to build your personal brand, what to post without overthinking it, how to grow a community that actually cares, and how to move into brand deals and digital products sooner than you ever thought possible.

Step by step, simple, and doable.

Ready? K, let’s dive in.

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It was the panic that hit the second my finger hovered over the “POST” button.

I’d picture people I went to school with watching. My cousin’s friend laughing. Old coworkers rolling their eyes. My name lighting up in some random group chat with the word cringe attached.

And suddenly it wasn’t just about content anymore. It was about me. If they judged my posts, they were judging me.

That’s why posting feels like jumping off a cliff. It’s not the act of sharing – it’s the exposure. The fear of being fully visible.

What we're really afraid of isn't the post, it's being seen for who we truly are.

But that exact thing you’re avoiding is the thing that unlocks everything for you. The connections. The brand deals. The freedom. The opportunities you don’t even know exist yet.

Visibility is the doorway. And the only way through is to post anyway.

Where the Fear Really Comes From

The fear of posting rarely comes from “I don’t know what to say.” It comes from:

• worrying about people you know in real life

• being scared of saying the wrong thing

• thinking you’ll look like you’re trying too hard

• believing everyone is watching, waiting for you to mess up

The truth is that most people are too busy with their own lives to care. And the ones who do notice? They usually project their own insecurities onto you. Your courage to post will remind them of what they’re not doing.

People who judge others for pursuing their passions often can't understand that level of courage because they're not there yet.

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I’d see other creators posting about working with Sephora or flying business class for a hotel collab, and I’d think… yep, that’s the dream.

Except when I finally landed those deals, I realized something.

Brand deals can be incredibly lucrative, but they're also inconsistent. One month you're flying business class and getting paid $10K for a campaign, the next you're refreshing your inbox wondering if you should lower your rates just to get something.

The lifestyle looks amazing from the outside - and don't get me wrong, some months it really is. But building a business on unpredictable income, no matter how high the peaks, it gets exhausting.

That was the first time I asked myself: what would it look like if instead of relying on brands, I became the brand?

Well, yeah… it changed everything.

The moment I launched my first digital course, Art of Influence, I stopped waiting on brands to validate me. I wasn’t chasing invoices or hoping a brand would pick me. I had my own product, my own income stream, and my own audience buying directly from me.

I’ve built a 7 figure business and unlocked a level of freedom I never imagined.

And let me tell you, there is nothing quite like living your life, traveling, creating, even sleeping, while payments roll in around the clock.

Brand deals are great and should absolutely be part of your income mix. But they work best as one stream, not your only stream. When your course is handling your baseline income, brand deals become the fun bonus money instead of the payment you desperately need to cover rent.

Digital Courses Are the Smartest Move for Creators

Likes do not pay the bills. Reach does not cover your flights. And even if you land a killer campaign, the brand still controls the timeline, the deliverables, and the budget.

Sure, a comped stay at a 5-star hotel feels glamorous. A free flight feels like a flex.

But the real flex is being able to pay for all of it yourself because your content is generating actual income.

I don’t just want a brand to shout me business class. I want to be able to afford to fly business class whenever I want.

That’s what a digital course gives you.

It flips the power. Suddenly, you have an offer that belongs to you, that sells whether a brand says yes or not.

Here’s why courses are the ultimate creator business model:

Passive + scalable income
You record it once and it pays you over and over. While you’re on a flight. While you’re asleep. While you’re at brunch with your girlfriends ordering the extra mimosa just because. You’re always getting paid from something you already made.

Multiple income streams
Brand deals are fun, but they’re not stable. One quarter the budgets are flowing, the next quarter… ghost town. A course means you’re not sitting around waiting for someone else’s marketing budget to decide if you get paid.

Massive impact
Instead of answering the same “how do you edit your Reels?” question 500 times in your DMs, you can package your knowledge into a system that helps people at scale. More lives changed, less creator burnout.

Your course doesn’t need to be some huge, overwhelming, 6-month thing. Some of the most profitable courses I’ve seen are ridiculously simple.

• Edit using CapCut

• Organise your life using Notion

• Setup Meta ads

• Use AI for your business

• Taking better iPhone photos

• Lower your cortisol

“But what do I create a course on?”

The fastest way to find your idea is to look at what your audience is already asking you.

If they’re in your DMs asking “how do you ___?” — that’s a course topic.

If people tell you “I wish I could do ___ the way you do” — that’s a course topic.

If you’ve mastered a skill or gone through a transformation that someone else wants — that’s a course topic.

You really don’t need a massive audience or a PhD. You just need to be two steps ahead of someone else and willing to package it up.

In fact, some of my students are making 6-figures with less than 15k followers.

If you’re not sure what to create yet, here’s an AI prompt to uncover ideas you might not even realize you’re sitting on:

“I want to create a digital course, but I’m not sure what topic to choose. Ask me reflective questions to help uncover my skills, experiences, and interests. Then generate 20 potential course topics I could teach based on my answers. Make them specific, practical, and designed for beginners who want a clear result.”

“How do I make sure it sells?”

Most creators build their course backwards. They spend three months perfecting every video, every worksheet, every bonus material, then launch to crickets.

Here's what actually works: validate first, build second.

Test with free content first. Create a mini-version of your course idea as free content. A carousel post, a reel series, a story highlight. See how people respond. If they're commenting "I need the full version of this" or "please make this into something longer," you've got your answer.

Talk about your course before it exists. Post stories asking what your audience struggles with most. Share your outline and ask for feedback. Open a waitlist when you're still in the planning phase.

Validate with AI. Here’s a strong AI prompt you can use to validate whether a course idea is profitable and marketable:

“I am considering creating a digital course on [insert your topic]. Act as a market research expert. Analyze whether this idea is profitable and why. Identify the target audience, the specific problem it solves, and the transformation it promises. Suggest how to position the course to make it more compelling, and provide 3 alternative course titles that would resonate with beginners looking for a clear result.”

I love this prompt because it makes AI do more than just say “yes, that’s good” and actually breaks down the audience, problem, transformation, and positioning, which are the exact pieces you need to know before building.

Remember that great courses don't need to be sold. They get bought.

When someone has a problem that's costing them sleep, money, or sanity, and you have the exact solution they need, selling becomes easy. You're not convincing anyone of anything. You're just showing up with what they're already looking for.

The creators struggling to sell courses are usually trying to create demand instead of meeting it.

The Game Has Changed

The creator economy isn't what it was five years ago. Audiences got smarter. They can smell a cash grab from miles away.

The creators making real money now aren't just posting pretty pictures with captions. They're solving actual problems.

Look at who's winning: the productivity creator selling notion templates, the fitness creator teaching meal prep systems, the business creator offering strategy sessions.

They figured out that influence without income streams is just expensive hobby.

You already know something worth teaching. Maybe it's how you batch a month of content in four hours. Maybe it's your system for booking upgraded flights. Maybe it's the morning routine that changed your entire life.

Stop waiting to become the world's leading expert. You just need to be two steps ahead of someone else and willing to share the ladder.

“How much can I really make with an online course?”

Let's do the math.

You sell a $297 course and enroll 10 students per month. That's $2,970 monthly. $35,640 per year.

From one course.

Bump it to 20 students per month? $5,940 monthly. $71,280 per year.

50 students per month? $14,850 monthly. $178,200 per year.

Now let's say you create a $497 course.

Just 20 students per month at $497? That's $9,940 monthly. $119,280 per year.

Hit 50 students monthly? $24,850 per month. $298,200 per year.

Picture this: It's Tuesday morning. You wake up in your house. Check your phone and see 3 course sales came in overnight. $1,491 while you were sleeping.

By noon, you've got 2 more. By evening, another 4.

$4,467 on a random Tuesday. From courses you recorded months ago.

(Based on my real events btw.)

But here's where the real magic happens.

You're not just making money. You're making impact at scale. Instead of answering the same question 100 times in your DMs, you've helped 2,000 people transform their lives with your system.

Those 2,000 people become walking testimonials. They tag you in their success stories. They recommend you to friends. They buy your next course the minute you announce it.

Your $497 course isn't just generating revenue. It's generating a community of people whose lives you've changed.

The math compounds.

Month 1: 20 students
Month 6: 35 students (word of mouth kicks in)
Month 12: 50 students (social proof is everywhere)
Month 18: 75 students (you're a go-to person for this topic)

That's $37,275 per month. $447,300 per year. From one $497 course.

While other creators are still pitching brands for $2K campaigns, you're building generational wealth from your laptop.

The math works. The question is: are you ready to make it work for you?

What Happens Next

If you’re sitting there thinking okay, this might be worth a shot… here’s exactly what I’d do:

This week → Post a story and straight up ask your audience what their biggest struggle is in your niche. Or run a poll with a few potential topics you could teach. Screenshot everything. (This is your free market research lab.)

Next week → Take the most common struggle and make a free solution. A checklist. A template. A quick Canva guide. This is something you should be able to make in a day. For example, if they’re overwhelmed with stress and anxiety, whip up a “5 minute nervous system regulation guide”. Create content around this to get the word out.

Week three → Watch what happens. If people are downloading your free stuff, that’s proof. Because if they’ll grab the free version, they’ll definitely pay for the premium version.

The difference between creators who stay stuck and creators who scale isn't talent or followers or luck. It's willingness to diversify beyond just being the product.

Every time someone buys your course, you're not just making money. You're buying back your time, your freedom, and your ability to create on your terms.

Suddenly brand deals aren't about survival - they're about adding extra vacation money to an already solid foundation.

Just you, your knowledge, and people ready to invest in themselves. That's the real creator economy. And it's waiting for you to join it.

P.S. If you're ready to dive deeper into building your own course business, I walk through my exact system in Art of Influence. It's everything I wish I knew when I was starting.

My mum raised me on her own, and for most of my childhood we lived with my grandparents. When I was 16, we finally managed to move out – just for a year – before losing the house and having to move back. That feeling of instability shaped so much of how I saw the world.

I never invited friends over because I was embarrassed. I carried guilt watching my mum pour every dollar she had into giving me the best childhood possible. I noticed it all… the sacrifices, the stress, the burnout, the exhaustion.

Money was never just numbers for me. It was tension. It was anxiety. It was the unspoken reason behind so many choices we made. I grew up hating the topic altogether because it always carried weight, shame, and stress.

For a long time, I thought my story with money was unique. But the more I grew up, the more I realised so many of us were raised on the same lessons; lessons that weren’t just unhelpful, but deeply limiting.

We inherited beliefs that were passed down like family heirlooms. Beliefs that kept us small, anxious, and stuck. Beliefs that made money feel like something to fear instead of something to master.

It wasn’t until I started making my own money that I started questioning those beliefs.

So today, I want to break down the 7 biggest money myths I had to unlearn, and maybe you’ll recognise a few of them in your own life too.

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I was posting consistently, following trends, and spending hours editing my Reels, but my growth had flatlined. It felt like I was shouting into the void.

If you’ve ever felt that way too, you’re not alone.

The truth is, growth in 2025 doesn’t look the same as it did a few years ago. A lot of creators will tell you it’s harder than ever, but I actually believe the opposite.

Over the years, I’ve grown two accounts from scratch to hundreds of thousands of followers, and I’ve seen first-hand what actually works. I’ve also coached thousands of women in the past year to successfully grow their Instagram accounts.

So I’ve you’ve been screaming in the void (or at your phone) wondering why nothings working, let’s shed some light on 10 things you should be doing to grow on Instagram in 2025.

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