Social Media – Craig Jamieson

Whining Doesn’t Build Anything

Over the weekend, Arnold Schwarzenegger said something that stuck with me. “Whining does not change anything. Whining does not build anything.” He was talking about climate action, but the message applies to our careers just as much. Complaints without action don’t change the system. They don’t change your situation either.

I used to have a rule. If I caught myself complaining too often about the place I worked, it was probably time to move on. That mindset helped me avoid resentment. It helped me take action before I burned out. But we’re living through one of the most difficult markets I’ve seen in years. I don’t wish unemployment on anyone, and walking away isn’t always possible.

Even so, too many people are sitting in frustration and doing nothing to change their situation. Not taking steps to improve things at work. Not doing the hard work of showing up publicly and building a presence. Not doing much of anything, except complaining.

Make the effort to fix something
Some work problems can be solved. It takes difficult conversations, clarity, and courage. If the team’s broken, if the leadership is off, if the role has shifted, you have to speak up. Suggest changes. Redefine your value. Set boundaries. None of this is easy, but it’s possible.

If the situation won’t improve, you still have options. Start putting energy into how you show up outside of work. Start building the kind of presence that gives you leverage when the next opportunity comes.

That means updating your website. Refreshing your LinkedIn. Putting your work out there. Rewriting your bio so it reflects where you are now, not where you were five years ago. You don’t need to turn into a content machine. You just need to be visible and consistent.

Most people want change, but few take action
People ask me all the time how to build a personal brand. I tell them what to do. But when I check in, very few have done anything with the advice. I hear excuses about time, discomfort, or not knowing what to say. But in the end, it comes down to effort.

If you want to change your situation, you cannot wait until you are forced to act. That’s when people panic. That’s when they rush to update a resume or write a post after six months of silence. It’s never effective.

What I recommend is simple. Post when you can. Comment every day. Connect with people in your industry. Show up thoughtfully and consistently. Over time, it works.

Commenting is the most underrated move
If you do nothing else, start commenting. It is the easiest way to get visible and build your network. Not one-word replies or clapping hands. Real comments that show you’ve read the post and have something to add. That’s how people start to notice you.

Most of the results come from showing up regularly. Not for a few days or a week. For months. I’ve been doing it for a while now, after being ignored for months and sending out applications that led nowhere. The difference is, now I’m having real conversations with great people in the industry. It feels like something meaningful could land soon.

Even when it does, even when I land a great opportunity, I’ll keep going. I’ve seen what happens when people disappear and have to start over. I’d rather keep the momentum going than rebuild from scratch later.

Build a routine before you need it
Once a month, I block out a weekend to update my site, check my resume, and clean up my socials. This isn’t about reinvention. It’s just maintenance. A small habit to make sure I’m not stuck, bitter, or caught off guard.

Small effort. Repeated consistently. That’s what changes your situation.

Whining doesn’t build anything. Action does.

Clowns to the Left of Me, Jokers to the Right

Scroll for more than a few swipes and you land in the middle of a mess. One side tells you if you are not AI ready, you are out. The other side claims they can spot a ChatGPT-written post a mile off. If you use AI, your work is shit. Everyone is shouting. Few are making sense. It’s as baseless as UX vs the world.

Job descriptions now expect you to be an AI expert in your field. As if that means anything. AI has not been around long enough for anyone to truly become one. At best, there are early adopters, power users, and curious creatives. While the rest of us are dipping in and out, most of the noise is either panic or performance. Some posts are crying out to protect the craft. Others are blindly embracing whatever feels new. In the middle, there are a lot of people just trying to keep the lights on.

Let’s be clear. You are not an expert. Neither am I. Maybe you are ahead of the curve. Maybe you use AI tools more than others. That is fine. But calling yourself an expert just because you have been playing around with prompts for a few months is not helping anyone. Expertise takes time. It takes failures. It takes patience and perspective.

I still laugh when I see AI Creative Director on a job post. Not because I feel threatened. Because it is nonsense. I think Rodd Chant ®️©️ came up with the rather funny Creaitive Director, or at least owns the domain. A lot of Creative Directors earned that title the slow way over decades. Through work. Leading teams. Solving problems and lessons learned.

Then comes the sting. The uncomfortable feeling when people who could never write suddenly sound better than you. When people who never designed are getting decent UI out of thin air. Developers are seeing AI spit out code. Video editors are watching automation creep into their timeline. The tools are getting smarter. And it is rattling the people who built their careers without them.

This is how it goes. The shift always feels like a threat. Until it becomes the norm.

You do not need to panic. You do not need to start calling yourself something you are not. Or have AI in your title just to be relevant. You do not have to be an expert. You can just be a user. Exploring the tools. Trying things. Stay grounded. Be curious. That is enough.

Storytelling is not better because it was co-written with AI. A perfect sentence means nothing if the message is empty. Nobody cares if you used a semicolon correctly, unless the emphasis really matters. AI has not made me a better writer. But it has helped me stop pretending to be a perfect one. Being myself is what sets me apart. Always has been.

I use the tools. I test new things. I rely on the foundations I spent years building. And I try to stay kind through it all. No judgment. Just forward motion.

I am still figuring it out. Still navigating the noise. But I refuse to be dragged to the extremes. I do not want to be the loudest voice in the room. I just want to keep showing up, doing what I can, and staying open to where it all leads.

Maybe that’s what we all need to focus on right now, not picking sides in the AI wars, but finding our own path through the chaos.

Where do you sit in all of this?

Fly Your Own Flag

There’s something I’ve noticed lately, and I say this with nothing but respect for the people doing the work, agency creatives are peacocking hard. It’s constant with the award wins, the jury invites, the case studies, and the same campaign reposted across your circles timelines. I get it, you’re proud, as you should be. But it’s almost always done in service of the agency rather than yourself, and that’s where I think we’re getting it wrong.

I understand the loyalty and I admire it to an extent, but I think it’s a wasted opportunity. Agencies are shrinking, holding companies are consolidating, teams are being cut, clients are pulling spend, and the game is shifting faster than anyone wants to admit. Amid all of this, creatives continue to fly the agency flag like it means something permanent. The truth is, it doesn’t, not to them anyway. They will let you go when it suits them, they’ll restructure, reorganise, and reassign. The only person who doesn’t really benefit from your public allegiance is you.

This isn’t an attack, it’s frustration mixed with a bit of sadness. I love advertising, I always have, but I’ve always struggled with the way the industry treats its people. That’s one of the reasons I chose a different path. I had to put distance between myself and an industry that often burns the very talent it relies on. Even now, I find myself drawn to it, not for the industry, but for the work and its people, for you, for the brilliant, hilarious, sharp, emotionally intelligent humans that make this business better.

But here’s the problem, the industry has gotten smaller, not just in size but in spirit. It doesn’t feel like the creative playground it used to be, the energy has shifted, and the opportunities feel narrower. So in the kindest way possible, I want to offer a bit of advice, not because you’re doing it wrong, but because you deserve more than what you’ve been given.

Start thinking about yourself, not your department, the agency, or the holding company. Think about you, your voice, your point of view, and your experience. For too long you’ve been an advert for the company you work for, it’s time to become the poster for yourself.

You don’t need to be promoting your own work every week, you don’t need to become an influencer or sell a course. Just start showing us what you care about, share the work that moved you, the ads that fuel your passion, the campaigns you wish you’d made. Talk about your process, share your taste, teach someone how to craft a line, how to build a deck, or how to navigate feedback from a client who doesn’t get it.

You’re a better storyteller than you think. Whether you’re a writer or an art director, you already know how to engage people, you understand tone, rhythm, aesthetic, and timing. Use that, make us laugh, make us think, tell us the stories from the pitch room, from the late nights, from the edits that almost didn’t land. And yes, give us the saucy ones from the agency Christmas parties while you’re at it, that’s part of the lore.

Creatives are full of commentary, and the world needs more of it. Your feed doesn’t have to be polished or strategic, it just has to be yours. There’s a lot of talk about personal brands, but that’s just another way of saying own voice. You have a perspective, let us see it.

Think of your LinkedIn like a tactical campaign. The cleverest, boldest, most relevant post that will stop our doom scroll. That’s all this is, a place to connect, to remind us who you are, not just who you work for.

I know this platform isn’t your favourite. Most people only come here to repost their agency’s latest flex or to flick the switch to open to work when another merger leaves them behind. But this place matters, it’s worth investing in before you need it, and it’s worth showing up on as yourself, not just your agency’s echo.

So if no one’s told you this lately, let me. You are not a job title, you are not a line item in the awards submission deck. You are the reason the work exists, start acting like it. We need more of you, not less.

You’ve been flying someone else’s flag long enough, time to fly your own.

Is Serving Algorithms the New 9–5?

My feed is flooded with really good advice on how to write for LinkedIn.

How long your post should be.
When to post it.
Where to place the line breaks.
What headline style performs best.
Which formats drive the most impressions.
What the algorithm wants today, and what it might want tomorrow.

Most of this advice is genuinely useful. It’s strategic, considered, often generous. But I can’t help wondering if we’ve just replaced one kind of rigidity with another. Have we made ourselves slaves to a new system, one where the algorithm, not the clock, dictates how and when we show up?

There’s a perfect time to post, apparently. But that’s not why I’m writing this. I’m writing because the thought is alive right now, not because the algorithm says it’s time.

The reason I’ve always struggled with the idea of a 9–5 is because creativity isn’t predictable. Ideas don’t respect time slots, and neither do I.

Over the years, I’ve built a career that allows me to work outside of traditional constraints. I can choose when and how I create. That’s a privilege, yes, but also a conscious decision to avoid a structure that has never suited the way my mind works.

That freedom doesn’t mean I’m in flow all the time. It just means that when I am, I can run with it. And when I’m not, I don’t have to fake it. But more and more, I see creative people trying to squeeze their process into the logic of performance. Write at this time. Post on this day. Use this many characters. Craft for engagement, not for expression.

The people I admire most create because they feel compelled to. Not because the clock says it’s time. And yet here we are, staring at analytics dashboards and adjusting our output to suit invisible forces. It feels less like creative freedom, and more like a digital shift job in disguise.

When inspiration strikes, I want to follow it. I don’t want to schedule it or sit on it. I don’t want to overwork it. I want to publish it, share it, let it go, and make space for the next idea. That rhythm of capture and release is part of how I stay creatively alive. Holding things back just so they can land at a better hour feels counter to the whole point of creating in the first place.

And yes, the data says we should post three to five times a week. Gary Vee would probably tell us to post thirty. And honestly, I could. Some days I’ve got three ideas before lunch. But the moment it becomes a rule, or worse, a routine, I’m out. That’s where the hustle-culture hangover kicks in. I don’t want to be consistent. I want to be compelled. If that means nothing for a week, or three posts in a day, so be it.

If you’ve ever listened to Elon Musk on the Joe Rogan podcast, you may have seen how visibly he struggles with the infinite loop of ideas in his head. I relate to that. Ideas don’t arrive in neat, linear form. One idea leads to another, which leads to five more. It doesn’t stop. And the more I follow those threads, the more I want to create. Not later. Now.

I write because something wants to be written. I post because something feels ready to be shared. Not because the algorithm says it’s the optimal time, or because the format is trending. Those things can help, but they cannot lead. Because if they do, we’re not really creators anymore. We’re just workers in a new kind of system, staring into a different kind of clock.

So perhaps the real question is not how to beat the algorithm, but how to resist becoming dependent on it. How to use it without being used by it. How to show up without waiting for permission. Because if the point is to connect, to share, to express, then we can’t afford to wait for the perfect conditions. We have to go when the fire is lit.

And if this post lands poorly because of when I hit publish, that’s fine. I’ve already moved on to the next idea.

P.S. The perfect time to post is 5:12 PM local time.

Why I Write on LinkedIn

Over the past few weeks, I’ve been writing more than usual. If you’ve noticed and wondered why, there’s no single reason. It’s a mix of intent, curiosity, and practicality.

I’ve been creating content online for years across different formats and platforms. Some worked, some didn’t. But lately, LinkedIn has become the place I keep coming back to. And writing articles here, specifically, feels like the best fit for what I want to say and how I want to say it.

Sharing More Than My Portfolio
There’s so much depth to the work I’ve done over the years that doesn’t show up in a case study or portfolio. The kind of thinking that happens in real time, inside conversations, decisions, leadership moments, and the messy parts of building creative work. That’s what I want to share more of.

But it’s not just about the work itself. It’s also about the context around the work, the way I lead, how I think through challenges, the values I bring into creative environments, and how I navigate being part of this industry. The relationships, the influences, the impact of the world around us. That rarely gets captured, yet it shapes everything.

LinkedIn feels like the right place for that. It’s where the industry talks. It’s where recruiters are. It’s where creative leaders, designers, strategists, product heads, and founders are sharing their views, and where it actually feels normal to join in with your own.

I’ve Tried Other Channels
My blog

It makes sense to start here, since writing has always been a core part of how I share ideas, and it’s the one platform I actually own. I’ve written a lot over the years, and while personal blogs don’t get much organic reach these days, I still value it as a space. But it’s not where people are, and it’s not where conversations happen. That’s why my energy has shifted elsewhere.

Instagram

It’s always been more of a personal space for sharing life moments with friends and family. Given that I have other channels for specific interests, adding another stream of content just for work felt like more effort than it was worth. This format makes more sense for client work or personal projects that might gain a better audience.

TikTok

I experimented with some short-form video content, but I think people enjoy watching women dance more than they want to hear me blabbing on about creativity and design. Building out the visuals, performing, and being on camera doesn’t interest me, and it never really felt like a natural fit.

YouTube

I’ve tried it more than once. Long-form videos, shorts, design rants, personal projects. The effort it takes to create even a simple video – setup, delivery, editing, uploading, thumbnails, metadata – is more than most people realise. And while I don’t mind being on camera for work-related calls or meetings, performing on camera to create content just isn’t something I want to spend time or energy on.

My Attempts on LinkedIn
I’ve played around with different post formats, short updates, opinionated takes, image-based posts, even a few carousels. But they’ve never really gained much traction or felt quite right for how I think and work.

Carousels are the hot format right now, but I’ll be honest, I just don’t have the energy to design and format my ideas in that way. I’m not saying they don’t work. I’m saying it doesn’t work for me. I don’t want to turn every thought into a carefully crafted visual sequence. I want to write things down, explore ideas, and move on.

I also tried video content here. It felt unnatural. Writing feels like I can breathe. Video feels like I have to perform.

Why Articles Make Sense
Articles let me go a bit deeper. They don’t require a design layout or a polished hook or a five-second attention grab. They don’t need music, subtitles, or motion graphics. I can just write.

And because someone has to click in to read an article, I know they’re at least a little curious. That changes the kind of conversation I’m having with the reader. It’s not competing for attention in a feed. It’s sitting down and saying: here’s where I’m at, here’s what I’m thinking, and maybe there’s something in here that’s useful to you too.

That’s what I want from this. Not perfection. Not virality. Just the chance to share thoughts that might help someone else figure something out, or feel seen in their own creative path.

So yes, I’ve been writing a lot lately. Not to become a better writer. Not to go viral. But because it’s one of the few ways I can still show up honestly without overcomplicating things.

If you’re still reading, thanks. And if you’re writing too, I’d love to hear how you’re approaching it, and why you’re choosing the platforms you’re on.

My Journey Growing LEGO Channels

Turning my passion for LEGO into something bigger has been an exciting journey. When I first started growing my LEGO channels in 2023, the dream was simple: get monetised doing something I genuinely enjoy. Although life got in the way and early 2024 brought slow progress, I didn’t give up. In November, I came back stronger with a renewed focus on creating shorts, reels, and TikToks—and it’s been paying off!

Celebrating the Wins

Growth is growth, and I’m proud of the progress I’ve made. My YouTube channel is steadily climbing, and I’m sure I’ll hit 1,000 subscribers soon. On Instagram, I’ve already crossed that milestone, and TikTok is well on its way to 1,000 subs in the next few months. My views are up across all platforms, and I even had a viral TikTok video hit over 800k views!

While I’ve had only one short on YouTube reach over 100k views and Instagram is still playing catch-up, the overall momentum is there. Each milestone proves that this journey is worth it. TikTok may not offer monetisation while I’m in South Africa, but YouTube and Instagram hold plenty of potential, and I’m excited to see where they take me.

The Path to YouTube Monetisation

YouTube’s requirements to monetise are tough: 4,000 watch hours from videos, not shorts. While my shorts have been great for gaining views and subscribers, they don’t contribute to the watch-hour goal. But that’s okay—I see them as a stepping stone. They’ve helped me grow my audience, and now I can focus on converting that growth into long-term success.

A Shift in Strategy

With a clearer understanding of the road ahead, I’ve refined my approach. Shorts, reels, and TikToks are fantastic tools to bring in new subscribers, but the key to unlocking monetisation lies in videos. I’m using shorts to expand my reach and build a community, but videos will be the foundation of my passive income plan.

I’m not discouraged by the watch-hour challenge—it’s motivating me to create better content, experiment with different video ideas, and give my audience more reasons to stay engaged.

What’s Next? Bigger Goals and Bigger Builds

I’m gearing up to create more videos because that’s where the magic happens. Every upload brings me closer to those 4,000 watch hours, and with the growth I’ve already seen, I’m optimistic that 2025 could be my breakthrough year. I believe in the long-term potential of what I’m building. It’s not just about the immediate rewards—it’s about creating something sustainable.

LEGO isn’t just a hobby for me; it’s an investment. If I can keep building, sharing, and growing, I know I’ll see a return on that investment. The joy I get from creating, combined with the excitement of seeing my channels grow, is more than enough to keep me motivated.

Full Steam Ahead

Monetisation isn’t an “if” for me—it’s a “when.” I’ve learned that success is rarely overnight, but with patience, passion, and persistence, it’s within reach. If I can stay consistent and continue sharing content I love, I have no doubt that I’ll hit my goals.

2025 could be the year it all clicks. Here’s to bigger builds, a growing community, and the exciting possibilities ahead.

Whining Doesn’t Build Anything

Clowns to the Left of Me, Jokers to the Right

Fly Your Own Flag

Is Serving Algorithms the New 9–5?

Why I Write on LinkedIn

My Journey Growing LEGO Channels

My 2024 Social Media Count

Live Lightly

Digital Minimalism

IGTV is failing