If creativity is a ball game, am I playing the wrong one?

10^th May, 2025
The Lungomare, Chiaia, Naples

24 hours before my holiday ends, I am itching to get back to my life of making and doing.

Naples is loud, exciting, busy, delicious, rammed full of people, effervescent with traffic. It’s intense, colourful, gritty, a blast. I’ve had a great time experiencing it.

It’s just…I love my life, my home, my quiet garden. My colourful attic studio where I make music and videos. My friendly neighbourhood on the edge of the city. I love my dream job and how I get to spend my days.

Two years ago today I was miserable in Bristol, raw nerves assaulted by a daily soundtrack of a dual carriageway and noisy neighbours, fading away in a dark house that sapped my spirit. Unable to think, unable to be creative, unable to write the album I knew I wanted – and needed – to write.

Everything in my life has changed for the better since then.

This is a strange moment, though. I know I want to get back, but I don’t have a clear picture of what I’ll do when I get there. My new album came out three weeks ago. The fanfare immediately died down.

What do I do now?

I sit at the long, dark dining table, sun filtering through the soft curtains, coffee close at hand. I am perplexed.

What more do I have to give?

It’s not enough to spend years writing, producing and releasing an album: I have to find ways to continually introduce the music to new people while creating fun experiences for my existing audience.

It’s not enough to create a long form video for YouTube: I have to cut clips out and remove the left and right hand side of the frame to entertain people on different platforms.

It’s not enough to write a blog post: I have to cut out the highlights to share in Notes / tweets / threads to give my piece the best chance of being read by people who already follow me.

I’ve written before about “have to” versus “get to”. Replace “have to” with “get to” for an immediate bump of enthusiasm for the thing you’re privileged to “get to” do, while also knowing that, to have any chance to paying for recording and manufacturing costs, you really do “have to”…

If I don’t do these things, I have to accept that my success will always be limited by my efforts, or lack of efforts. To flip the name of this blog: if I do nothing, nothing will happen.

It’s frustrating to expend so much energy on something and then so quickly feel like the tennis ball I’ve thrust so hopefully out into the universe has not fallen onto tarmac, but morphed into a small beanbag and got stuck in a sandpit.

It didn’t even bounce once.

I used to get excited right before an album release, thinking about all the fun ways it could change my life. This time next year I could be booked for festivals! Maybe a brilliant independent label will want to release the next album! I could have money in the bank! Other artists might want me to sing/play/produce their songs! A sync agent could track me down and give me incredible opportunities!

I don’t entertain those thoughts any more, and maybe that’s a bit sad, but it’s not because I’m jaded or bitter. I just know, seven albums in, that gradual, sustainable growth is better for my career and for my nervous system. The more times I do this bonkers thing the more I see it’s about keeping going, not about having a big win that supposedly changes everything.

I don’t want to change everything. I love my life, my relationship, my home, the ways I get to spend my days. It took a long time to get here. I built this myself, over many years.

However, I truly believe “House Of Stories” is my best, most heartfelt and accomplished album yet. I feel so much responsibility to try and get that bloody ball to bounce that it can only be my fault when it doesn’t.

It’s overwhelming, and the second-guessing stops me in my tracks. I can’t be the only one who wants to try, who wants to plan their way out of this feeling, but ends up doing nothing instead. I am paralysed by indecision, and I hate it.

I ponder the whole ridiculous enterprise. Is everything online just there to advertise something else? Are we all just making more and more things, then cutting smaller things out of the big things so we can point fingers at our other things, at ourselves? Am I just a big pointing finger pointing indirectly at my album? Am I supposed to be wearing a sandwich board at all times?

No thanks.

This is not about algorithms or supposed shadow bans. I’m fully sold on the potentially infinite rewards of the internet, not just because I have made my full time living from it for the past six years but because I got my first email address in 1997, started blogging in 2004, joined Twitter and YouTube in 2007 and have never stopped seeing The Internet as an exciting new frontier. A Superhighway, if you will.

And so I do blame myself when nothing much happens after a full year of posting 1-2 videos per week on YouTube. I must have done it wrong.

I can see the huge potential of TikTok for music discovery, but can’t figure out what captions to put at the start of my clips, so I post them anyway and nothing happens. I must have done that wrong too.

How can I get it right? How can I get this fucking ball to bounce?

At lunch with some experienced music industry folk in Naples, the topic turns to TikTok. I am asked whether I feel pressure to make videos for TikTok, whether I feel like I can’t keep up. I talk about how excited I am to have access to these tools and all the others. I’ve always felt that way. That doesn’t mean I have the time to do all the things I want, but I believe in what I make and I believe there are ways to get those things to people in a way that works for both parties. I don’t known what they are, but I know I want to keep trying.

I just don’t know what to do next. Since “House Of Stories” came out I have become the beanbag stuck in the sandpit.

10th June
Penfriend Ink, Nottingham, UK

Back home, I make lists of the same old things and find myself unable to do anything about ticking those boxes. I create a new ideal weekly schedule: time out aside each day for sharing my existing work and making new things.

I ignore that too.

Life happens. My Gran dies in her sleep aged 95, six days after my last visit.

I become obsessed with tasks that have a clear visual start and end. I clear up my overgrown garden. I attach the willow screening I bought an entire year ago to the broken fence. I disassemble piles of things in every room, order nine Kallax units of various configurations to finally give me the storage I need across two workspaces and the spare (merch) room. I finally find a space for my teen cassette collection.

Is this burnout, bereavement or both?

Finally, I feel ready to think about music again. Renewing my workspace has brought new energy. It finally feels like the right time to delve into the nerdy world of synthesis, to make the very most of the strange, beautiful instruments I started collecting during the pandemic. I’m ready to experiment again. I’m ready to start looking ahead.

Maybe I’ve just been trying to play the wrong ball game. Maybe, instead of bouncing a tennis ball away from me, hoping it will gather momentum, I just need to keep the ball in the air.

Andy J Pizza’s excellent podcast “Creative Pep Talk” has been a constant guide and friendly companion since I discovered it in 2019, and in a recent episode Andy addressed exactly this issue:

“It’s easy to play the game of being creative like it’s something to win, but in my experience that will only get you so far. Creativity is less like a game to win, and much more like a game of “Keepy Uppy”.

This game can be played alone or with friends, and the point is to keep a balloon from touching the ground, by gently hitting it up into the air.

Unlike most games, the point of Keepy Uppy isn’t to win, the point of the game is to keep playing. The point is to play in such a way, that you keep the game going for as long as possible.”

Thank you, Andy. So wise, always.

This week’s attempt to keep the ball in the air looks like this:

What ball/s are you trying to keep in the air? See you in the comments.

Love,
Laura xxx

Thank you for visiting!

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See you soon xo

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Just search for Penfriend, She Makes War and Obey Robots.

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What Do I Do Now? (I thought I had it sorted)

by Laura Kidd Creativity Letterbox Mindfulness Process

On Friday 25^th April 2025 my seventh solo album “House Of Stories” reached #2 in the Official UK Independent Albums Chart.

I recorded and released the album from my attic home studio The Launchpad in Nottingham through emails, social media posts and Facebook ads. No manager/label/press/radio.

This sort of thing shouldn’t really be possible. Music fans are absolutely amazing.

The next day I walked out of an art workshop in floods of tears and stood by a lake watching a Eurasian Coot dive for treasure to make a nest with. The plucky little bird dove and dove, bringing up all sorts of interesting bits and bobs clasped in its beak. A slice of slippery algae, bright green; a thin branch three times its width; a clot of unidentified mush dripping with water. Sure in its choices, the bird added each new piece of treasure to a floating mass, then swam away in a big circle, returning to dive – collect – add, dive – collect – add.

I was fully aware of the metaphor at the time, but it didn’t get me back inside the building.

I wasn’t ready to dive back into my memories to create a map for an art workshop, however engaging and fun the facilitator was (and she was), and however supportive the environment was (and it was). The well was empty of stories; I had only tears to give.

I didn’t want to make a scene, so I left quietly to cry it out, calm down and return to class. But I couldn’t calm down, and I couldn’t return.

Younger Me would have been horribly embarrassed; Current Day Me knows when she’s in the wrong place and gets out as fast as possible, as politely as possible. Current Day Me does not hide the tears. Current Day Me cannot hide the tears.

The Sleeper song “What Do I Do Now?” popped into my head when I started thinking about writing this, even though only the title is relevant. It’s a brilliant song, much loved to this day by me, but I’m lucky that being stuck in a bad or confusing relationship is not my current experience.

Gratitude is a helpful emotion to centre at times like these.

My current experience is a mix of emotions. I’m not trying too hard to figure it out; it feels smarter to just let the feelings wash over and through me while trying to get back into good healthy habits and making semi-sensible plans for future creativity.

I don’t know if there are any songs about this particular feeling of post-big-project comedown, because whenever I’m in one I’m not really up for writing a song about it and, later on, in reflective songwriting mood, I can already project that I will find the topic far too mundane / indulgent / entitled to reference.

After the Big Chart News I had some dinner at home and went to bed. I had been sleeping terribly in the weeks leading up to the album release, which is very unusual for me, and that may have influenced what happened with the art workshop and the incessant crying.

I felt much better when the requirement to suddenly create something new was removed. Tim took me home and we sat on the sofa together. The following week we went on holiday to Naples, and had our minds blown by the busy, colourful, gritty city.

Now I’m back, somewhat rested, and I have to keep going. Because that’s the goal.

I make music and share it so I can keep making music. I make videos and I write to share my experiences as part of my creative practice, which is what drives me to continue making music.

It’s weird how you can focus so intensely on something for so long – in this case a full year, pretty much – and then it feels so suddenly over and done with. The album only came out four weeks ago, and it did really, amazingly well, but now it feels like there’s zero interest in the new songs, everyone’s moved on to something else, and I have to quickly summon up new things to share.

Of course I don’t have to do anything¹ – but as an artist I get to do whatever I feel like doing. And that’s a gift, and I am grateful.

I last wrote a new song last July – “Space, Man”. I don’t want to let it be a full year til I write another one. So, I won’t!

It’s time to don the lab coat again for musical experiments. And this is where you will hear them first.

And if you haven’t heard “House Of Stories” yet, I made this nerdy microsite to introduce it to you.

Thank you for reading.

Love,
Laura xxx

I mean, I do – this dream job is my only job, and I have to continually figure out how to keep making ends meet, and that’s not always a given – but in this context I mean no-one is forcing me to make songs or market them and it’s a great privilege to get to do so x ↩︎

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Warning: my legs and feet are visible in this video!

by Laura Kidd Creativity House Of Stories Letterbox Music News Process

Thoughts about stepping back – literally…

During the pandemic I remember reading an article about how one of the ways living in close proximity was changing peoples’ relationships was the lack of literal perspective. Standing close to loved ones all the time, rarely getting a chance to step back and see them as a whole person. It has an effect.

I’ve been pondering this while making and sharing music videos for my new album this year. I make my own videos: setting up lights, tripod and everything else I need to shoot, doing my best to make my weird and wonderful ideas come to life on screen, then editing them afterwards.

That’s what I do when I make music, too. “House Of Stories” is thoughtful, personal and completely me (and I can’t wait for you to hear it!) https://shop.penfriend.rocks/collections/penfriend-house-of-stories

It’s well-discussed that working with constraints makes you more creative. 3 minutes to tell a story in sound and song. Small budgets, basic equipment, small spaces. Using only what you already have.

But it can be hard to get the feet and legs in. It can be hard to show the full person.

“Emotional Tourist” was shot in my front room, in front of a variety of backdrops. I set the camera up behind my armchair to get a decent shot, but didn’t want to show the mess on both sides, plus my backdrop didn’t go down to the ground. No feet shots possible. Dagnabbit.

I tried to change this for “Space, Man”, hiring a studio in town so I could put the camera a bit further back. But the backdrop wasn’t wide enough again, so you didn’t get to see the white socks I wore to match my inflatable space rocket. I tried.

While filming for “The Life Of The Party”, there was a weird issue with the stage lighting. I couldn’t figure out why it was giving me a totally blue, blown-out face if the camera was set back too far.

If I was calmly filming someone else I might have been able to work it out; dressed in a party frock grasping a ukulele, I did what I always do…my best.

For “In The Light Sometimes” I decided to show the whole picture.

Last summer I spent 54 days in my attic home studio, The Launchpad, recording my new album “House Of Stories”. I decided to show the whole space; the constraints I turned into creativity.

It was only after I hung my new action camera off the attic latch for the top-down shot that I realised my feet would be on video for once. And, though my slipper game is STRONG, I decided to be dead posh for once and change into some nice shoes for the occasion.

This song makes me cry. I hope you enjoy the video.

“House Of Stories” is now shipping worldwide!

You can get your copy on vinyl, CD or KiT box set direct from me, with hardback story and lyric books, hoodies and tees also available.

Digital downloads are available from the “Downloads” tab in my shop too.

This album is not on streaming, and is not available from any record shops or online retailers.

This is 100% independently made and released music, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart for supporting what I do.

Love,
Laura xxx

PS watch the non-feety-leggy music videos here: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLjSzokSHVfQ2rSPH0Lq47f9UQXfudtWBp

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Sometimes it’s better to wait

by Laura Kidd Creativity Essays House Of Stories Letterbox Music News

Ten days ago I wrote 1,208 rather self-pitying words about my situation as an independent musician. I was tired, perhaps a little burned out, and feeling overwhelmed by the big structures making everything so much more difficult every time I do this (the existence of streaming, rising costs of producing physical goods etc etc blah blah blah).

To be fair to me, I was waking up every day at 6.30am with a clench in my stomach, thoughts racing. I’d lie there and decide right away the day ahead was absolutely impossible. I could only fail, so what was the point in trying to get through my To Do list?

I’d close my eyes and hope for sleep to return, waking late and annoyed with myself for missing the gym – again.

Luckily for me – and for you – this meant I didn’t have the time or energy to return to those words, shape them into something more coherent and share them with you. A week later I scanned through them and realised they were working-out-words, not words to be read by others, and I blushed a little at the self-indulgence of considering publishing them in the first place.

This year I’ve tried to get into a regular practice of writing more not necessarily to share more writing, but to do more thinking.

Writing is how I figure stuff out, which means there are no wasted words, but when I see those words piling up in my Scrivener sidebar a part of me (the part that also panics about money all the time) wants to make the most of them, because writing is also how I intrigue, tempt and persuade people to listen to the music I make.

Creating albums is my main thing, but if I hadn’t worked writing into the heart of it all I wouldn’t be making such a go of it, I’m sure.

As someone who appreciates honesty on the internet, I don’t want to hide my tough times under a fake sheen. I’ve always made a point of sharing my process as a self-taught music / video / audio producer, because I want others to see an example of the possibilities available if they put the time and effort into the thing they really want to do.

I don’t believe in only sharing happy days and successes, because it paints a warped picture of things, but I decided long ago that it’s important to me to bring optimism to the online spaces I spend time in. And when I’m writing to supportive music fans, busy with their own trials and tribulations, health issues, financial struggles and all the rest, why on earth would I want to complain directly to them about how hard it is for me sometimes?

At the start of this year I decided to try out this “word of the year” thing I’ve seen people talking about. The first word that came to mind is “gratitude”, and the moment it flashed up in my brain hole I experienced the resistance my 20’s and probably 30’s self would have felt if someone had suggested it.

“Urgh gross what?”

I took that as a sign to face up to my discomfort, and to use this word to try and reframe my world. It’s been very helpful so far.

My feelings do matter – as do yours – but whatever I’m going through I am healthy, I am well and I am living my absolute dream of creating whatever the hell music I want and figuring out ways to send it out into the world to find the people who will love it the most.

Feeling the feelings and writing the writing are essential tasks on my busy To Do list, of course, but sometimes it’s better wait and make sure I’m showing up with something interesting / useful / not too whiny.

I am free, I am grateful, and I can write overly long sentences whenever I like.

Thank you for reading – I’m grateful for you, too.

Love,
Laura xxx

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I made this to make you smile

by Laura Kidd Creativity Essays House Of Stories Letterbox Music News Productivity Space, Man

I made this to make you smile.

I made this to provide 4 minutes of escape from stress and worry about life, the universe and everything.

I made this to remind myself not to take everything so seriously all the time.

My new song “Space, Man” isn’t a silly song. Nor was my last song “Emotional Tourist”. And nor was my Obey Robots song “Porcupine”.

I don’t write silly songs, but I do choose to have fun when I present things to you. I want to give you something different, memorable and meaningful.

I really did make this to make you smile.

I had a wobble on Monday, halfway through editing this new video. If only I looked cool, or could dance, or had a team of professionals sorting out interesting outfits and dramatic lighting, or [insert any number of random, out-of-reach expensive items here]…if only I could just do more to send my songs out into the world.

What do I mean by more, exactly?

Every time I make something new there’s the possibility of infinite reward when I share it online. Hundreds of views could turn into thousands, or tens of thousands. If I pick the right thumbnail, or learn exactly how the algorithms work on every platform, or say exactly the right thing at the right moment, the music I care so much about sharing could leap forth from my laptop and become a beloved fixture in the lives of music fans around the world.

The possibilities are tremendously exciting, potentially life-changing. Less grind, less hustle. Money in the bank. A slightly easier life?

I try to stay positive, without setting myself up for too much of a fall. If/when I don’t get 100K views in 5 minutes (!), I have to be okay with that. I have to be able to keep going.

I’ve done this for long enough to know that simply getting to keep doing it is the real goal.

And it’s certainly not just about finding new people to listen. My “big” mailing list has around 9000 subscribers, and my Substack list has around 200, and sometimes it feels just as difficult to successfully invite these people to click “play”.

That’s ok. It’s humbling. You have your own, way more important, stuff going on.

Just know that, even when I doubt myself, I will keep trying. Even when I receive nasty comments and unpleasant emails (and oh, I do), I will keep sharing music, sharing videos and sharing my words.

Every time I make a collection of songs I put everything on the line to create the best experiences I can for music fans.

You are never obliged, but you are always invited.

My new video cost around £200 to make: studio hire, two costumes, props and lunch. I did my own hair and makeup, set up my own shots and didn’t try to look cool or try to dance. The only other human involved was my lovely husband Tim, who helped with the moving shots and tightened the legs of my inflatable costume to stop everything from going floppy.

Talk about infinite reward: I got to spend a Tuesday being silly with my favourite person making something to make you smile.

I hope you enjoy “Space, Man”.

Love,
Laura xxx

PS get “Space, Man” + two more songs immediately when you order my new album “House Of Stories”, out 25th April 2025. Only available direct from me, DIY 4EVA x

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How childhood letter-writing led to a life in music

by Laura Kidd Creativity Essays Letterbox Process

When I was a little girl, one of my favourite possessions was a shoebox that I filled up with bits of paper, envelopes and leaflets gathered from wherever I could find them. I called it my Post Office, and every now and then I’d take the box from under the bed and pour my treasure out on the floor.

I’m hazy on the details, but I remember loving to “play Post Office”, which I imagine meant sorting the assorted paper into different piles and then putting them back in the box. Oh, how the interests of our youth can creep up on us as adults, writes the woman who spent a happy evening last week reorganising her boxes of scrap paper, stickers and magazine pages by category.

Nerd alert.

Later, somehow, I ended up writing letters to children I’d never met, who lived far away – Svetlana in Belarus and Alastair in Derbyshire. It was utterly magical to send my closely-written pages to people I would never talk to in person, carefully copying the unfamiliar Russian words onto Svet’s envelopes well enough for her to receive my missives. I only ever know my letters had arrived when she replied.

It was to Alastair I first proudly declared my aim to be a songwriter when I grew up – having never written a single song, and knowing nothing whatsoever about how to do so. Letter-writing predated those heady days when I started to discover my favourite bands by some years, but both activities were a youthful statement of independent thought at an age where actions were largely dictated by adults.

As I grew older I gathered more people to write to. My family moved every three years, so there were always friends left behind, and in my early teens I wrote to kids I met on school trips, boys at other schools, even friends at the same school as me. We challenged each other to fill up more and more pages and somehow still had enough left to say to talk on the phone for hours in the evening. The freedom I found to express myself in letters is one of my fondest memories of childhood.

On my journey into adulthood, switching to email and blogging and Twitter (2007-style) felt intuitive, but my love for words written by hand on paper never left me.

As I released music on CD, vinyl and cassette from 2009 onwards, I got to “play Post Office” more and more regularly, and my role as the maker and sender of things became clear.

Writing songs and dispatching them into the world, in whatever format, is a natural progression from the innate desire I had to connect with others from a young age.

And that, dear reader, is why I’m called Penfriend.

Now and then, then and now

I was moved by Lucy Pepper‘s latest beautiful piece about her experiences of early blogging (not just because apparently it was inspired by one of my Notes but because her writing is awesome and I love it). I feel nostalgic for my early days of writing on the internet not because my output was so fantastic (I’ve checked), but because it all felt so free then.

“The internet” was a destination. I raced home from work to “go on it”, and happily replaced my previous TV-watching with clicking around, finding out about the world and other people, mainly through reading personal blogs. It was quite unusual to be someone regularly “surfing the internet superhighway”, online ordering was wildly exciting because you had to trust it was real (and high street shopping sucked), and finding places to stay in European cities was, weirdly, easier because there wasn’t infinite choice.

When short-form text-based social media came along in the form of Twitter, I let it steal my writing energy. I still wrote regular, friendly emails to my growing mailing list (which is why I have a job doing this today, honestly), but any public writing was sporadic at best. And this from a person who breathlessly read Writing magazine when she was 13 years old, dreaming of her certain future as a novelist.

I shake my fist at the social media oligarchs in the sky, but mostly at myself. Silly.

I’m not interested in wanging on about the platform I’m sharing stuff on – that’s too meta¹ for me, but suffice it to say I’m delighted to be stretching my writing-in-public muscles again, and excited to be here amongst friends.

Some of them I’ve been in touch with since 2012 and before (hi again Lucy Pepper, Katie Lee, Alex Milway) or way earlier (Sizemore, Documentally), but mostly in short-form ways.

I’m a long-form person. I make albums, not single songs. I am having a wonderful time delving into the long-form thoughts of brilliant minds, and I only wish there hadn’t been that break in the middle where I felt like I was surfing that superhighway alone.

Writing is the best, I love it, and I’m going to keep doing it. Reading is a close second.

From one solo home-working nerd to many others, I thank you for reading.

Love,
Laura xxx

Photo by Carol Jeng.

I refer you to Lucy’s footnote on this matter.
↩︎

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On single release day, these two words have to go

by Laura Kidd Creativity House Of Stories Letterbox Music News Process

Day 8 of my daily index card collage challenge. "Gobblin' Time" - get it? Original monster by Zozoville.

Next Wednesday 15^th January I’m releasing my first new song in two years.^⁠⁠¹

“Emotional Tourist” is the first single I’m sharing publicly² from my seventh solo album “House Of Stories”.

I’m probably supposed to be “excited to announce…” or “delighted to introduce…” but, 15 years after the first time I was excited to announce a single³,^⁠ I’m hoping to stretch my vocabulary.

It’s not that I’m not excited, or indeed delighted. I’m both, and more. I’ve been doing this long enough to know that the words I write on the matter are essential to encouraging, persuading and intriguing you towards tapping “play” and giving my song a chance.

I also know that writing “I’m excited to announce that my new song is out now” is a waste of everyone’s time.

I’m…Who is this person?
Excited…I’ve read that word a thousand times already today – next!
Announce…Where are we, a train station?
My…Sorry, why are you in my feed again? I don’t know you.
New song…Every song I haven’t heard yet is new, what difference does the release date make to me?
Out now…Ohhh, is this an advert? Ugh, I hate being advertised to, no thanks.

A large chunk of my time as a full-time solo artist and self-facilitating media node^⁠⁴ is spent creating excitement around things I made a while ago.

I embrace this.

Andy J. Pizza, of the wonderful, changed-my-life podcast Creative Pep Talk, recently shared a series of episodes around the second Hero’s Journey. He called it the “Journey Of The True Fan”⁵,^⁠ and it’s very helpful.

If the first Hero’s Journey sees the hero – yes, you – bravely leaving your metaphorical home to adventure out into the world, battling through adversity to find the elixir, the second is where you bring the elixir home to share with your people, the ones who need it just as much as you do.

What’s the elixir? It’s what you make – what you want to make. What you’re called to make. What you haven’t made yet…but you’re going to make. When you make that thing, wouldn’t you like to share it with people? And wouldn’t that feel more comfortable and less intimidating/gross/cringey if you believed that what you made would help them in some way?

It’s true, you know. Art heals. Songs create spaces for people to feel their feelings. Music is a collaboration between the people making the sounds, and the people listening.

If my song comes out next Wednesday and no-one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?

Not really.

My song isn’t worthless if no-one listens to it. It can be enough that I pulled it out from deep within my psyche and put the time, energy and focus in to make it into something that could be played to another human. That’s fine.

But it’s ok to want people to listen / watch / read too. And I do. And I’ve been doing this for a long time. And it’s (currently) my full-time job (thanks to generous music fans who choose to pay for something they could listen to for free).

I crave connection with other humans. Many of us do.

So, there would be very little point to me going to all the fuss of writing and recording my songs, having them professionally mixed and mastered and commissioning an artist to illustrate the album cover if I wasn’t prepared to spend time and energy on communicating my excitement and delight at my single being OUT NOW.

If you make art that you want people to experience, respond to and potentially heal from, this second Hero’s Journey is essential, and in my experience it’s not best spent:

Complaining on the internet about how we’re being forced to become “content creators”. Snore. No-one is forcing you to do anything. No-one is expecting you to make music / paint / write / make videos / anything. They don’t know you exist.

Why not spend that energy sharing your work in an interesting way? Every single time I see this post from an artist I wish they’d just shared a little story about their art instead.
Publicly railing against the powers that be while doing nothing in real life to create lasting change and/or finding interesting ways to share your art despite the raw deal we genuinely do get.
Announcing that you’re “excited” and “delighted” that your new song/book/video is OUT NOW!!!

Damn. So…what should I do instead? My single is out in less than a week! Fuuuuuuuuuuck!!!!!

Ok. Calm down. It’s just songs.⁶

While I’m truly aiming to avoid the words “excited” and “delighted” this time round, it is important to be keyed up, galvanised or otherwise invigorated about our work. If we don’t feel it, the people we’re hoping to invite to appreciate it certainly won’t.

I know “House Of Stories” is my best album yet⁷,^⁠ but instead of excitement / delightment I’m going for a quiet confidence, an open-hearted generosity of spirit and a desire to use my words to go deeper into what my 11 new songs are about, how I felt when I wrote them and how I feel about them now.

The time for musing and pondering is upon me. More soon.

Here’s what I do know: I make sad songs to make you feel better. I share music humbly to create honest, positive and potentially healing experiences for you. And I’m incredibly grateful for the opportunities that exist to share our work through myriad digital spaces, reaching out across the ether to make connections with other humans (that’s you – hi!)

I just think we can find deeper and more resonant ways to share our stories – preferably without quite so much shouting.

Another thing I’ve picked up from my 20 years of writing on the internet is to leave the reader with one simple Call To Action.

Unfortunately, in this essay I decided to do a Stewart Lee^⁠⁸ / Katie Lee^⁠⁹ and include many humorous footnotes, thereby fucking up any real chance I may have earned of you taking the required next action to listen to my new song.

Dagnabbit.

Thankfully, because I am indeed a self-facilitating media node, I’ve arranged for you to be able to pre-order my new album today on limited edition vinyl colours, signed CD and hybrid analogue/digital format KiT.

You’ll receive next week’s single “Emotional Tourist” + the title track “House Of Stories” in your inbox immediately, with a new song every month up to the release date in April 2025.

Hooray!

Thanks for reading. I’m excited and delighted you’re here.

Love,
Laura xxx

Aside from “Our Last Christmas”, which came out in early December. That one had a short shelf life, for obvious reasons…but I’m really glad I made this video for it in a Berlin Christmas market. It wasn’t at all weird wandering around filming myself and whispering the lyrics at double speed. I just have a weird job – and I love it!
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Members of my Correspondent’s Club received it on New Year’s Eve, and people who have already pre-ordered my album received it shortly afterwards. Only the best for the best.
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My first single “Let This Be” was released under the name She Makes War in April 2010. This self-directed music videostars Regé-Jean Page of Bridgerton and now Hollywood fame. Yes, 15 years ago my then-boyfriend’s little brother was keen for any experience on set, and he was always lovely to hang out with. Thanks, Regé! I’m SO proud of you.
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If you know, you know.
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Behold Andy’s “Journey Of The True Fan” series – parts 1, 2, 3 and 4. He’s here on Substack being awesome, too.
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Rebecca Lucy Taylor aka pop goddess Self Esteem said “it’s just songs” in this episode of my podcast “Attention Engineer” in February 2021 – just before she casually became (aka worked her arse off to become) a bona fide pop star. Well done, RLT! I’d love to do an “after they were famous” followup episode…
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And I still really like the other seven, so that’s saying something…
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This book changed my life. No exaggeration. If you perform in any way – read it asap.
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Her Substack newsletter is BRILLIANT and she just published a crime novel – go Katie!
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Indecision: an elaborate and time-consuming way of achieving absolutely nothing

by Laura Kidd Creativity House Of Stories Letterbox Mindfulness

15 months after setting up my Substack and deciding to get back to my writing roots, I’m still twisting myself into knots about what to write about what and where to put it.

What an elaborate and time-consuming way of achieving absolutely nothing.

The latest obstacle I’m putting in my own way is this idea of having to have three things finished before publishing anything. I watched a video about this recently, and it made total sense at the time.

It’s a great idea – if you’re a few pieces ahead you can detach from the immediate impact on “the world” of what you just published. Numbers schmumbers. You can concentrate on the next thing you’re working on, and focus on building a library of writing, or videos, or whatever you’re sharing.

I love this. I agree wholeheartedly that the work is the thing to concentrate on. Lead indicators (what you put in) over lag indicators (results) every time (spot the “12 Week year” fan!).

But at the moment – recently recovered from a nasty bout of burnout coupled with a Christmas-consuming cold, depleted from recording my latest album of sad songs and, to be honest, a little daunted about releasing it in April – finishing one new thing and publishing it feels like an insurmountable task, let alone waiting til I’ve finished three.

I’ve been writing on the internet for a full 20 years now, but starting from scratch on Substack – and on my deliciously secret new YouTube channel – is incredibly freeing. I feel like I’m lifting the lid off a box I made for myself that grew tighter as the years went on.

I’ve been through this before, deciding to end a music project I’d been working on for 15+ years to start fresh in 2020. This time it’s not an ending, but an expansion. A sideways, onwards and upwards move.

A simple shift in thinking about how and where I share what I make has got me excited about making things again.

And it turns out I don’t want to wait til I have three finished things before I start sharing.

Here I am.

This is the start of something. My attempt to do my best as an imperfect human to create a sustainable practice of writing essays and making videos, while continuing to make music I’m proud of.

I’m absolutely sick of waiting for the right moment to do things. I’m tired of annoying myself with my lack of ability to complete things, throw them out there and move on.

The release of any creative work is a release of tension which creates forward motion. As long as the time is set aside to continue to build the practise of making the next thing, I’ll gradually get three pieces ahead and enjoy this glorious detachment. Or I won’t, and it’ll be a scramble, and that’s also fine.

A joyful, messy creative scramble is a fine life to live, and I’m grateful to live it. Staying quiet, writing thousands of words and keeping them locked inside my laptop is no fun at all.

I’ve been releasing music for 15 years without any set schedule of consistency, and everything has worked out just fine. My eighth album is due out in April, and as I figure out the words to describe it, I’ll share those here as well.

I’m all for creating systems, putting the work in and showing up on a regular basis, but I’d rather do it haphazardly than not at all.

Having said that, I’ll (try to) see you here next Thursday for more.

Have a wonderful week.

Laura x

PS the image up top is a photo of an index card I decorated yesterday – another way I’m unblocking my creativity in 2025. More on this experiment soon.

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Four years of Penfriend!!!

by Laura Kidd Creativity Letterbox Music News

Four years ago TODAY I launched my Penfriend solo project after 10 years of releasing music under another name.

People told me it would ruin my career, that starting a new music project at the age of 39 was a doomed endeavour, that no-one would be able to find me online any more. But I knew I had to make a change – and with that change, my creativity blossomed again.

I have no regrets.

Sometimes I wonder whether fans of my previous project She Makes War think I fell off the edge of the planet, but then I remember they probably know how to use a search engine.

Things would have been very different if I hadn’t cultivated a mailing list, so here’s your semi-regular invitation to receive a FREE 12-track album and 31-page zine when you sign up.

You’re ace. Thank you!

Love,
Laura xxx

PS tonight I’m celebrating sea-themed songs from six solo albums in a FREE online gig called “She Sings Sea Songs”. Sailor hats optional, lispy tonguetwisters definite.

Music starts at 8pm, hang out in the chatbox from 7.45pm.

PPS the song that ended up being the transition between She Makes War and Penfriend is “Seashaken”. Grab the SMW demo recording here and watch the brand new Penfriend music video here, shot on the North Friesan island of Sylt in early March.

PPPS I wrote about my reasons for changing artist name here.

PPPPS – just kidding. Maybe sea you tonight? Xxx

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Too late? How to find an audience in your 50s (and 40s, and 30s…)

by Laura Kidd Creativity Letterbox Process

At my December livestream, I was asked the following question by @hitchhiker7508 : “is 55 too old to hope to build a fanbase for original music?” – here’s my answer…

This video is sponsored by The Correspondent’s Club – browse membership perks here and join the journey!

Subscribe to this channel for more adventures in sound and songwriting

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Category: Creativity

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Indecision: an elaborate and time-consuming way of achieving absolutely nothing

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Four years of Penfriend!!!

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Too late? How to find an audience in your 50s (and 40s, and 30s…)

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