Last month, we welcomed Britain’s seventh prime minister in just 10 years. The UK Government amusingly announced Andy Burnham’s arrival with a TikTok video of him entering No. 10, set to the Love Island audio: “A new bombshell has entered the villa.” And he has certainly caused a stir. In the two weeks since coming to power, Burnham has set several major policies in motion, spanning regional devolution, the nationalisation of public services, and efforts to tackle social inequality. But what could this new political direction mean for the mental health of people across Britain? As a mental health researcher and ITM Managing Editor, I was keen to find out. Andy Burnham Outside No.10 Downing Street during his first speech as PM, 20th July 2026 Burnham’s Mental Health Policies Until yesterday, Burnham had said surprisingly little about mental health explicitly. In his first speech outside No. 10, he briefly mentioned the topic, promising young people “more mental health support” in the workforce. But that has now changed. Burnham’s government have just announced what it describes as the “biggest redesign of mental health services in a generation”, backed by £343 million. The plans include 100 community mental-health centres across England, offering walk-in support without the need for a medical referral, alongside 59 dedicated mental-health emergency departments for people in crisis. The announcement gives us a much clearer indication of what Burnham’s promise to build a more “preventative state” could mean for mental health. Prevention Over Crisis Responses With this “preventative state”, Burnham has vowed to invest “in people’s success, rather than paying for failure”. This rhetoric is not new; prevention was central to his Live Well approach in Greater Manchester. His new mental-health plans appear to put that philosophy into practice, combining earlier, community-based support with specialist care for those who do reach crisis. With 2.36 million people reportedly having an open referral with mental-health services in England in May 2026, this focus on earlier intervention is significant. Burnham’s proposed National Care Service, integrated with the NHS, could extend this approach by helping identify deteriorating mental health among people with ongoing care needs before they reach crisis - part of what he describes as an integrated system offering “security and dignity”. But prevention also means looking beyond health and care services. A recent study of almost half a million UK participants found that both individual and area-level socioeconomic circumstances were associated with symptoms of depression and anxiety. Importantly, the relationship appears bidirectional: socioeconomic disadvantage is associated with poorer mental health, while poor mental health may, in turn, contribute to disadvantage. In other words, policies aimed at reducing socioeconomic inequality may also be mental-health policies, whether or not they are labelled as such. So, where else has Burnham focused his attention? Caregiver assisting elderly women with knitting activity The Bid to End Homelessness During his first address, Burnham announced: “I will soon go through that door behind me and issue my first instruction: to end rough sleeping in our country.” Minutes later, the government announced an additional £340m to tackle rough sleeping in Britain. This is certainly a big commitment, although Burnham is far from the first prime minister to promise to tackle, or even end, rough sleeping. What is striking is that he made it his first stated instruction on entering No. 10 and immediately backed that ambition with additional funding. This is not a new priority for Burnham. As Mayor of Greater Manchester, he championed Housing First, introduced A Bed Every Night, and backed the ‘Tap to Donate’ homelessness scheme. He also donated 15% of his mayoral salary towards tackling homelessness throughout his nine years in office. Source: Levi Meir Clancy on Unsplash But if Burnham is serious about ending rather than simply responding to rough sleeping, mental health policy must form an explicit part of the strategy. According to Crisis, 8 in 10 people sleeping rough have a diagnosed mental-health problem. The relationship runs both ways: mental illness can contribute to losing one’s home, while homelessness can cause or exacerbate mental-health problems. There has therefore been scepticism that without increased funding for NHS mental health, alcohol and drug services, and other long-term solutions to stop people becoming unhoused in the first place, achieving this goal could be unlikely. Mental Health, Work, and Welfare Housing is not the only area where Burnham’s preventative approach intersects with mental health. Prior to taking office, he said that “where young people need mental health support, it should be provided as part of in-work support,” although he did not clarify what this would look like. Supporting people with mental-health difficulties to enter or remain in work fits Burnham’s preventative agenda: employment can provide financial security, stability and social connection. However, mental-health support should not primarily serve to increase economic productivity. Not everyone experiencing poor mental health can work, and a welfare system that prioritises employment risks leaving behind those who are too unwell to work. This is particularly important given longstanding concerns about the treatment of disabled people within the benefits system. Burnham has said he has read The Department, an investigation into the deaths of disabled benefit claimants and the role welfare policies and safeguarding failures may have played. Yet critics argue that he has so far offered little indication of a major change in direction on work and pensions policy. Helping people who want and are able to work is a worthwhile goal. But helping people “live well” must also mean protecting and supporting those who cannot work, regardless of their ability to contribute economically. Burnham in Derby as he unveils new technical educational routes aimed at tackling youth unemployment, July 28th 2026 Prevention Cannot Replace Treatment. This brings me to an important limitation of Burnham’s preventative approach. Mental illness arises from a complex interplay of biological, psychological and social factors. While tackling inequality can reduce some of the pressures that contribute to poor mental health, it cannot prevent it altogether. Prevention must therefore be matched by properly funded, accessible services for those who do become unwell. Burnham’s latest announcement is encouraging in this respect: alongside earlier community support, his government has committed to specialist emergency care for those who do reach crisis. But questions about the wider funding of mental-health services remain. The previous government weakened the Mental Health Investment Standard, requiring mental health budgets to rise only with inflation rather than NHS spending. As a result, mental health's share of the NHS budget fell from 9.0% in 2023/24 to a projected 8.4% in 2026/27. The £343 million announced for the new centres is therefore a significant first step, but whether Burnham will reverse this wider decline in mental-health investment remains an important unanswered question. 2024 NHS demonstration for increased attention to mental health Reason For Optimism? Alexa Knight, from the Mental Health Foundation, has suggested that Burnham could become Britain’s first truly “mental-health-focused prime minister”. Less than a month into his premiership, I believe it is too early to make that call. But this week's announcement gives us our clearest reason yet to take the possibility seriously. Burnham appears to recognise both the importance of intervening before people reach crisis and the need for specialist care when they do. Combined with his broader focus on housing, social care and socioeconomic inequality, there are genuine reasons for optimism. The test now will be whether these announcements translate into accessible, properly funded service, and whether mental health remains a priority beyond Burnham’s first few weeks in office. For now, Britain’s newest bombshell appears to be a public favourite. But popularity in both politics and the Love Island villa can be notoriously short-lived. The question is whether Burnham has the staying power to avoid the kind of shock dumping that has claimed so many of his predecessors.

Trigger warning: This article discusses eating disorders, terrorist attacks, and drugs, which some readers may find upsetting. I vividly remember the 22nd of May 2017. I was 17 years old, on vacation in Italy, and getting ready for the evening. My dad read out breaking news of a suicide bombing at Manchester Arena, after an Ariana Grande concert. Every concert since, as an adult who lives with anxiety, I get incredibly uncomfortable leaving concert venues due to this fear. But this piece isn’t about me. It’s about Ariana Grande. On top of the deadly terrorist attack, she experienced the death of an ex-partner and close friend due to a drug overdose. She dealt with the aftermath of a very public engagement breakup. She’s previously spoken about her experience with depression and OCD, and growing up as a child actor, and has called for mandatory therapy for all child stars. But ever since the 2024/ 2025 Wicked press tours, her appearance has shown a marked weight loss, leading many to wonder whether she's struggling with an eating disorder. Despite growing public concern, she has continued performing, releasing new music, touring, and carrying on as if nothing is wrong. Her appearances throughout the tour were already worrying, but it's her latest music video, "petal," that has left many, myself included, genuinely concerned for her wellbeing. Ironically, "petal" is about the entertainment industry's obsession with beauty standards, yet its release has only fuelled more of the same. Stills from the "petal" music video. Source: YouTube And it begs the real question: why isn't someone stepping in? You might say it's not my place to comment; I don't know her personally. But as a researcher in mental health, I know how public figures shape beauty standards for young, impressionable minds. That's why the focus here needs to be on support and recovery from whatever she’s going through. For weeks now, people have been drawing comparisons between Grande and Karen Carpenter, a singer who died aged 32, due to anorexia nervosa (a serious mental health condition which includes the restriction of food intake, and intense fear of weight gain, leading to significantly low bodyweight). I would just like to make clear that it is never appropriate to comment on someone’s weight, it is not respectful. Unfortunately, as we've seen for decades, the reality is that when someone is in the public eye, people talk about appearance. And this has a wider impact, as it may contribute to the glamourisation of a particular body type, which is where some concerns arise. As a society, it is important to acknowledge that our collective responsibility to understand that being concerningly underweight does not represent realistic or healthy beauty standards. We have a responsibility to ensure that younger generations do not feel pressured to normalise this. We also have a responsibility to make sure that this is not an ideal that anyone (including celebrities) feel pressured to embody. During the Wicked press tour, onlookers noticed that it wasn’t just her, but her co-stars Cynthia Erivo, and Michelle Yeoh who also looked different compared to earlier years. A November 2025 article for another magazine said of the press tour, "visuals confront you with hollowed cheeks and protruding bones that weren’t visible before.” And I agree. This week, after much scrutiny, Ariana and her team broke their silence and announced that she “will be taking a step back from visibility,” after her current tour ends. She, in a speech to her fans during a concert, explained that she made the choice “a long time ago” and “from a thoughtful and empowered place”, highlighting that her decision wasn't based on recent events. My concern is compounded by the stark statistics surrounding anorexia, which has one of the highest mortality rates of any psychiatric disorder. Performing on a global stage, regardless of your health status, is exceptionally hard work. Taylor Swift, showed in her 2025 documentary just how physically, mentally, and emotionally demanding tour life is. The months and years of hard work and prep it takes. And Harry Styles cancelled the first night of the Brazil leg of his tour due to physical health concerns. Many (and I agree with them) are calling on Grande’s management team to provide her with the adequate support she needs, and to potentially make the call if she is too unwell to perform. But it is also important to remember that we don't know what goes on behind closed doors. I know there is much public debate on whether people are right or wrong for talking about someone else’s body and life. One side of the argument is that it is her own personal life, her own body, and no one except her, and her loved ones have a say. Unfortunately, because she is an incredibly famous celebrity who is currently on a world tour where she is being seen by millions (and after an incredibly successful movie franchise), its important to point out that her physique is unhealthy. Regardless of the cause. It’s really hard to watch someone continue to perform on tour when they appear so unwell. In fact, Grande herself urged the public to “think before they speak”, when it came to comments on others’ appearances. She also highlighted how, there was a period when her fans considered her to have looked the healthiest was in fact a time when she was on antidepressants while also drinking and eating poorly, with the message that being healthy can look different, She specifically said, "You never know what someone is going through, so even if you are coming from a loving place and a caring place, that person probably is working on it or has a support system that they are working on it with." I have been a longtime supporter of Taylor Swift and seen the amount of scrutiny she’s experienced. Relationships, friendships, you name it. I will always say, this is none of our business, and I truly believe it. Even when Selena Gomez came under intense scrutiny for weight gain, which was due to her lupus medication causing water retention. Chadwick Boseman, who lost his battle to cancer a few years ago was under scrutiny for his weight loss. At the risk of sounding repetitive, it is not our business to know the reasons why someone’s weight fluctuates. But when a public figure has so visibly and so evidently lost a significant amount of weight, while insistent that they are fine and healthy, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with showing concern. Neither I nor my colleagues who share this view as mental health researchers are coming at this from a place of body-shaming, or just saying "she's too thin, she needs to eat." No. We worry about the impact on beauty standards of spotlighting her on a global stage when she appears so unhealthy, which risks setting an unhealthy standard for young fans watching closely. My teenage years (and even as a young adult) were spent listening to Ariana Grande’s hits. Before that, as a tween, watching her rise to fame as a Nickelodeon star. Seeing her red hair, classic high ponytail, iconic music videos is the Ariana Grande I remember. She has a song for every occasion. I do, very sincerely, and very hopefully believe that this step back will be a much-needed time for her to take time away from the limelight. And it’s important that she be given this privacy, away from the public eye. She most definitely does not owe the public access to her personal life. Ultimately, the responsibility lies with her team, to protect her and keep her safe. While we cannot control others' behaviour but we can control our own. We, as viewers do have a personal responsibility to engage or disengage with scenarios that are potentially triggering to us. Of course, in the case of younger audiences, their parents hold a responsibility. Finally, it comes down to asking what the increasingly narrow beauty ideals might mean for people vulnerable to disordered eating, those recovering from eating disorders, and young people learning what a desirable body is supposed to look like.

Image Source: Thought Catalog on Pexels The first thing most people learn about me is my résumé. As a professor with a decent public profile, I’m easy to Google. What most people don’t know is that I’m quite overwhelmed. It’s not the job that does it. It’s the mental health condition I’ve been living with since 1997: Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD). Oh, and there’s also my eating disorder. OCD brings unwanted, cycling thoughts that counter my values and invites compulsive mental/physical behaviours to–temporarily–dampen those thoughts. My OCD obsessions (or ‘themes’) have changed several times throughout my life, from unwanted sexual thoughts to contamination fears to needing symmetrical handwriting. But the theme that’s always stuck involves my body, and the need to look, and be, “just right.” As someone raised in the era of low-rise skinny jeans and America’s Next Top Model, this to me meant being the youngest, skinniest, prettiest person in the room. Striving to Be ‘Just Right’ I remember the exact moment my eating disorder began. Around age 15, I had a little too much fun sampling cheesecakes, which were the dessert craze at the time. During an annual check-up, my doctor told me I’d gained weight. While I wasn’t overweight just yet, I felt that I should not gain any more weight. By medical standards, I was fine with a BMI of 23.5. However, I remember feeling crushed. I looked in the mirror and saw a monster. Later, I frantically asked my mom if the milkshake I was nursing was good for me. When she scoffed in response, I melted down in tears. I understand that an existential crisis in response to a minor warning from a doctor was an extreme response. But my OCD made me very good at ‘fixing’ crises, so I was on a mission. Eating was my favourite hobby, and it transformed into a mortal sin. I was thinking about my basal metabolic rate well before the ‘thinspo’ influencers were. I repped the <1200 calories club by skipping breakfast. I drank coffee instead of having lunch. I remember doing a 12-hour marching band rehearsal in the hot summer sun with a single protein bar. Every morning, I’d sneak into my parents’ master bathroom to use their scale. I’d spend hours surveying the mirror and squeezing my thighs. No reflection went unchecked. Every time I got stomach pangs or vertigo during afternoon algebra, it was a sign that I was doing something right. A little voice told me so, the same one I’d later learn, that also runs my OCD. I continued this trend into and beyond college. I think I only started eating real lunch in my late twenties. But even now, I instinctively track if I’ve had more than one big meal in a day, as the rule my OCD insists upon is: one big meal, several little snacks, lots of calorie-less liquid. I’ve been through treatment. I can break the rules. Give me a little bit of wine and I almost certainly will. But even in my mid-thirties, a little voice in the back of my head hisses at me when I have that extra handful of chips: “Bad. This is bad. Marek, listen to me: You’re bad.” Image Source: SHVETS Production on Pexels Two Sides of the Same Coin People with OCD are quite familiar with this voice. It’s the OCD whisper that tells us we are responsible for every bad thing that happens to us and/or others, that we are ‘bad people’ at our core. But eating disorder survivors have heard the voice too: the inner critic equating our worth with our weight. Research suggests these voices may not be separate instantiations of different mental health disorders, but rather two sides of a similar cognitive coin. Mental health researchers have long proposed a link between obsessive-compulsive behaviours and disordered eating. Indeed, some have categorised Body Dysmorphic Disorder (BDD) as a sort of psychiatric “sibling” to OCD. In BDD, as in OCD, people hyper-fixate on particular aspects of their bodies and categorise them as something wrong that needs to be fixed. Teenage me experienced symptoms of BDD. I fixated on the “gap” between my thighs, constantly checking to make sure it was still there. I compared the size of every woman’s thighs to mine. I overanalysed pictures of myself, not looking at the whole scene but only at what my thighs were doing at that angle. If I liked the picture, maybe I could eat a little more that day. If not, back to the scale to check that the number was right. If it wasn’t, it meant further calorie cuts. Eventually the fixation outgrew my thighs and moved to my plate. Eating With OCD Sometimes disordered eating in OCD isn’t centered on weight. Instead, we become so fixated on eating the right foods in the right way. Contamination is a common OCD theme, and when applied to diet, some people obsessively avoid toxic or impure foods to an extreme degree, a restrictive eating disorder called orthorexia. An example of this might be compulsively needing to vomit after eating a bell pepper, learning that it was not organic and might contain traces of pesticide. While I don’t align with symptoms of orthorexia myself, I definitely experience compulsions if I come into physical contact with bad foods. I have an unexplainable aversion to cheese shreds, and even writing about them at this moment has me flicking my fingers to get the ‘feeling’ of them off of my hands. Another one of OCD’s favourite obsessions is morality. Ethics-aligned diets such as veganism can also warp into hyperfixation. I have been an ethical vegan for ten years and consistently must watch out for moments when my OCD takes advantage of my environmentalism. It asks me, “but was that soup really vegan?!” or “are you vegan enough?!” or, most annoying, “do you really care about animals or is your OCD just making you go vegan and you’re faking?!” It is exhausting to live cross-examined by your own mind. Image Source: Andres Ayrton on Pexels Recovery Means Uncertainty I’m not fifteen years old anymore. I wish I could go back in time and tell little Marek that their thighs and weight were fine and that their mind was a big bully. I wish I could tell Marek that OCD lurks everywhere, including in their reflection. The image may not be an accurate reflection of what everyone else sees. Or, to use a “non-engagement response” from Exposure Response Prevention Therapy (ERP), maybe the mirror shows the truth, maybe not. But, troublingly, maybe adult Marek couldn’t tend to teenage Marek because the OCD is not gone; it’s just moved on to other obsessions. Maybe, at my core, I need to grapple with what everyone recovering from OCD and eating disorders eventually accepts: trying to transform my body into a vessel for that “just right” feeling is a fool’s errand. OCD is nicknamed the “doubting disease” for a reason: it makes us doubt everything we like about ourselves and fear that we are unacceptable. However, fear and doubt are inevitable parts of life. I now understand that my desire to ruminate about my maybe-not-vegan-enough lunch is not about my diet. My caloric intake has never been the point. Beneath every calorie count, body check, and obsessive thought was the same impossible wish: to feel completely certain about my worth in an uncertain world. Despite what my OCD may try to tell me, no mirror, scale, or ingredient can indisputably determine my value.

ADHD, Autism, and a Career Built on Contradictions Image Source: Alonso Reyes on Unsplash I once spent three hours describing a tasting menu built around fermented citrus and smoked seafood while secretly feeling nauseous and craving plain buttered toast. That contradiction defined both my career and my life. I was living with undiagnosed conditions that affected everything, even if I did not yet have the language to understand them. For years, I had built my reputation as a food writer. I reviewed restaurants and wrote detailed critiques of tasting menus that cost more than some people's rent. On paper, it was the career I had always wanted. In practice, it often felt like torture. I regularly had to attend loud restaurant openings and industry events, smiling through clashing scents, overlapping conversations, and the sensory chaos that left me physically ill. My husband would ask why I kept punishing myself when I'd come home unable to eat for three days after each "exposure." At 33, after being diagnosed with attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) and autism spectrum diagnosis, I finally understood why my public life and private reality had always felt so painfully disconnected. I wrote glowing reviews of bustling restaurants while keeping a rotation of "safe foods" at home—plain pasta, white rice, buttered toast. I smiled through networking events while planning my escape route. I built a career celebrating culinary complexity while my own relationship with food was unravelling. When the Contradictions Finally Made Sense On paper, it sounded glamorous, and sometimes it was. I loved the storytelling side of food writing—tracing how recipes travelled across generations, interviewing chefs about the dishes that shaped their childhoods. Behind every plate was a narrative about identity, belonging, and love. That's what I wanted to capture. However, at home, I avoided spices and complex meals, preferring "safe" choices like plain pasta, toast and rice with steamed vegetables. I wrote about beautiful food while my relationships were filled with conflict, and I was constantly running myself ragged trying to please everyone. I felt angry that it took 33 years to get answers, and heartbroken thinking about all the times I had blamed myself for not trying hard enough. But underneath the anger was something else: clarity. Finally, the contradictions made sense, even if they were threatening my career and marriage. How I’d Been Setting Myself Up for Disaster Image Source: Peter Burdon on Unsplash At the time, I didn’t understand that sensory processing issues or being neurodivergent could shape someone’s relationship with food, people and places so deeply. I constantly struggled with gastrointestinal issues that ranged from constipation to diarrhoea and intense abdominal pain that left me depressed and disgusted with food for days. I didn't realise that my low appetite was a sign of a struggling nervous system. My therapist suggested I get tested for ADHD, and the diagnosis came with a menu of comorbidities: ADHD, autism, bipolar disorder, and Hashimoto's disease. Because I had been neglecting hydration and proper nourishment, I had developed ulcers and digestive issues. I'd fixate on research for hours on end and write excessive notes to counter forgetfulness. I had timers on my phone and watch, yet I still frequently arrived late. After some research, I began to learn what, when, and how often I could eat to balance my moods, energy levels and health. I had to switch from caffeine and energy bars to whole foods and multiple glasses of water per day so I could start hydrating my brain and nourishing my gut to rebalance serotonin production and improve my depression. Not understanding that I was an adult with ADHD trying to balance autism, I didn’t know how to cope. Once the initial shock passed, I finally settled into researching and taking action, and I began making health-focused choices. Learning to Work With My Brain, Not Against It Image Source: Peter Burdon on Unsplash I now understand that ADHD doesn’t mean you can’t focus, or that you’re constantly moody. For me, it affects my ability to regulate my attention and emotions intentionally. At times, it felt like what my therapist described as a “high-functioning” autistic person and a very confused adult with ADHD symptoms rolled into one. Treatment often felt like rolling dice. Medications that helped my autistic mind focus could heighten my ADHD symptoms. It took trial and error, but we eventually found a combination that works. For me, the answer was never simply discipline or more alarm clocks. Instead, I built routines around the way my brain actually works. Now, I know that late-night commitments involving tasting menus at Michelin-starred restaurants are not always aligned with how my body or mind works. I do my deep work in the mornings when my focus is strongest. Emails and administrative tasks happen later in the day. While I still use timers, I am more thoughtful about how and when I use them. My notes are arranged on colored pin boards, which gives me the semblance of normalcy and helps me feel less ashamed of my clutter habit. Movement has become essential—I jog around the neighbourhood or rollerblade in the park. On rainy days, I dance in the kitchen with my kids. When sensory overwhelm kicks in, I ask them to turn down their games instead of shouting. Learning about how ADHD shows up in my life and how it interacts with other parts of my neurodivergence has helped me rebalance and reclaim some measure of control. As a result, I can self-regulate more effectively. It has helped save my career and my marriage, and it has made me a better mom and more responsible partner. Honesty With My Plate and Pen Saved My Life Once I was diagnosed and began to let go of self-blame, I could finally make more honest choices about what I eat, how I live and what I write about. I’ve realised how long I had been blaming myself, and being able to finally forgive myself has been the best part of my diagnosis. For years, I’ve tried to be someone I was not. Accepting my ADHD and autism has meant choosing gentle structures and habits that help me heal. Once I made peace with my nervous system, I could begin to listen to what it had been trying to tell me all along. The food writer who could not eat no longer exists—not because I have fixed myself, but because I have stopped performing. I still write about food, but now I focus on research and storytelling I have always loved, without forcing myself into environments that make me sick. My safe foods are no longer a secret shame; they're part of my story. The contradiction between my public role and private reality has dissolved, replaced by something far more sustainable: honesty. And it turns out, writing from a place of authenticity is far more fulfilling than any tasting menu ever was. This article has been sponsored by the Psychiatry Research Trust, who are dedicated to supporting young scientists in their groundbreaking research efforts within the field of mental health. If you wish to support their work, please consider donating.

In all his time on the island, Kieran had seen many things, but the girl stepping off of the boat at the coast scared him most of all. Jcob Nasyr on Unsplash Kieran stared at the girl: half incensed, half astonished. She must have been young, no more than 11 or 12, with two black pigtails billowing in the ocean wind. Her little feet wrestled against the sand, almost sinking under the weight of the boat as she heaved it up the shore. Kieran’s heart plummeted to his stomach. She wasn’t supposed to be here. “Hey!” He waved, jumping out from behind the trees. “What do you think you’re doing?” The girl didn’t hear him, or perhaps she just ignored him. Kieran tumbled down the beach. He was running before he had the chance to figure out what he planned to do. Miscalculating the distance between the girl’s small frame and the wide-stretching sand between them, he crashed into her at full speed. They both staggered forward, the girl with her arms outstretched and Kieran with his arms flailing like a faulty wind turbine. “Careful!” the girl yelled. Kieran tumbled past her, colliding face-first with the sand. He groaned. “No, no, no!” the girl cried. He looked up just in time to see the girl sprint into the waves. The boat was gliding away, bobbing above the rocky coast. She shouted - her arms thrust out to grab the wood - but it was too late. Moments later, both the islander and the intruder stared as the shrinking vessel drifted helm-first into the horizon. A familiar anxiety spread through his chest, seeping into his heart like thick tendrils of smoke under a closed door. This was his island. His place. He took a steadying breath. “Who are you?” he shouted, shoving himself off the ground and ploughing towards the girl. “And how did you find my island?” When he reached her, he could see that he had been right - she was young. She wore a black t-shirt dress, the same shade as her hair. Her angular eyes surveyed the empty space where the boat had been. Alarm bells rang in his head. A moment ago, this strange creature had run into the waves in pure desperation, and now, she seemed oddly peaceful. What was her motive? “Do you have a boat?” the girl asked, her voice high-pitched and sugary sweet. When he didn’t reply, she looked up to him with a smile. “No,” Kieran snapped, feeling his ears redden. He’d never been very good at lying. “You do, don’t you?” She watched him closely with narrowed eyes. “That’s good - we’ll need it to get out of here.” “We? What do you mean we?” Kieran felt like he was falling through quicksand. The more he clawed his way out of it, the further he fell. “You haven’t answered me,” he added. “How did you get here? No one makes it past the danger zone – that’s the whole point!” For the first time, the girl looked uneasy. “It’s good to see you,” she said quickly, her eyes darting to his face and away again. “I just mean, I’ve been travelling to find you for a long time. I had to warn you before it was too late.” Kieran blinked slowly. His fingers tingled; soon the tingling spread all the way up to his neck. “Warn me?” His voice was barely audible over the crashing waves. “Your island. It’s going to disappear. I was sent by the game developers to get you out of here.” Her eyes softened. “There's a safe place we can go, but we don’t have much time. You must come with me and be brave. If you don’t, this world as you know it will perish.” “Disappear?” Kieran was deep underwater; every word the girl uttered sounded distorted and strange. “This place will be nothing but darkness. Lost to the void. I’m so sorry,” she whispered. Kieran nodded, barely aware of the girl reaching out to touch him and collapsed onto the sand. Carmen Jost on Pexels Kieran could hear his mother’s voice as he lay flat, facing the sky. He was 12 years old again, and the first design of the game simulation that would later rock the world was crumpled in his hands. She had unfurled it slowly; an amateur drawing of his island unravelled before them. Your fear is like all the trees in that forest, Kieran. To see how talented you are, you need to look above them. Don’t mistake the forest for the trees. There’s a wider world of your potential just waiting to be discovered! Later, he’d say that it was his experiences with anxiety that had inspired him to design the futuristic game simulation, Immersive-Mind. The simulation allowed users to create their own virtual world - not only that, but they could live it, breathe it, even taste it. If you dreamed of the stars, you could be transported to endless galaxies, feel the space-dust beneath your fingertips. Mountains, planets, and heavens could be accessed if you chose to plug in to the life-like immersive experience. For someone who had never felt brave, he’d explain, the simulation was a way of allowing users to get the chance to. Truthfully, it was his mother’s belief in him that was the inspiration for all his successes. Kieran couldn’t bottle belief, so he’d captured it the best way he knew how. He drew. First on paper, then by the time he was 20, thousands of expansive, virtual worlds in a 3-dimensional space. One of those was his island. Now, four years later, Kieran and a strange girl were in that very place as she told him that his perfectly constructed oasis was going to be destroyed. “Who are you, really?” Kieran asked. “The developers sent me to take you to a safe place. They’re shutting down higher-design regions like this one so that the low-budget areas will be the only ones left. It all happened so quickly. The financial crisis, the system’s collapse - nobody could have expected it…” She trailed off. “Does it matter who I am?” “Are you AI?” Virtual systems like this one were always crawling with bots. It was almost impossible to tell if other users were really people, or just code designed by game techs to move things along. The girl shrugged, revealing nothing. “The place we need to get to is past the danger zone, so let’s move quickly. My boat -” she pointed to the wide ocean “- it’s already disappeared. You see the horizon? I’m worried they’ll shut it down while we’re still here.” Kieran watched her for a few more moments; she was difficult to decipher, her expression betrayed nothing. Slowly, he turned to where she had pointed. He didn’t notice it at first, but when he did, it was impossible to unsee. The subtle mismatch of blue where sky met sea. Kieran squinted to get a better look. Pixels. Pixels dotted the skyline like patches of uneven fabric. Kieran felt sweat trickle down his spine. Somewhere beyond that was the danger zone. A grey wreckage of hazardous wasteland; a virtual no-man’s land. No one should have been able to get past it. And yet here she was, telling him they would have to journey through. “There is… another way,” the girl murmured. Be brave, Kieran. Be brave. His mother’s voice echoed in his mind. Kieran knew what she was going to say before she spoke. Still, dread twisted his insides. “You could unplug. The island’s only a simulation. If you stay, you’ll remain here in darkness. But if you unplug from the experience-" “No.” Kieran rose abruptly. “I can’t.” In truth, he didn’t want to cross the danger zone. He feared it as much as he needed it to keep people away. Still, there was one thing he feared more: the real world. If he unplugged from his design, what would be left for him there? “Let’s go,” he said. He wasn’t going to lose it all now. “If the island is disappearing, we won't have much time to get to the boat,” he said. “It’s in the centre of the island, follow me.” Jcob Nasyr on Unsplash The sun beamed high in the sky, scorching their backs as they made headway towards the boat. The design of the island was simple: sun-kissed sand stretched in a giant ring around a sprawling jungle. The simulation was constructed to mimic reality as closely as possible. Usually, Kieran enjoyed the arduous travel across the landscape. But now, he felt nothing but desperation as they inched closer to the end of everything. There was no escaping this reality. He would have to face it head-on. “Your island - it’s beautiful!” The girl’s voice beside him was startling in the serene forestry. They’d been travelling for almost an hour now. The centre - their destination - was the highest point of the island; Kieran could feel a headache forming at the mental exertion of climbing the virtual incline. The girl, on the other hand, seemed wilfully unfazed. “What inspired you to make it?” “My mum.” It slipped out before he could stop it. “Really? How?” Kieran didn’t know how to answer. Talking to her was like getting used to a blaring alarm, only to remember that the warning bells were still ringing. He’d grown so used to the isolation that he’d forgotten what it was like to have someone to speak to. “When I was young, my dad wasn’t… the best,” he started, slowly. Sneering and disappointment were the expressions he remembered most from his father. He had a laugh, a horrible, raspy sound like scratching sandpaper and would stare at his son as though he had no idea where his life had gone so horribly wrong. “She used to hold my hands when I got scared at night. I'd have panic episodes. They got worse after my dad left, so she’d swirl patterns on my hands, squeeze them tight, and tell me to dream of a safe place. It was… I still do it when I get scared.” “And this was the place you would dream of?” The girl's voice was contemplative, surprisingly subdued. “Yes. This island means a lot to me,” his voice was unsteady as he continued. “And now it's disappearing.” Leaves and shrubs blended into a green blur as Kieran slashed a path for them through the dense jungle. Reluctantly, he found himself looking back to assess their progress through the jungle’s mouth. They had made significant headway. Still, the journey back wouldn’t be long enough. “So, why are you here alone? I mean, surely you have people you’d want to share this with?” “I like being alone.” “And that’s why you created that grey wasteland,” the girl shuddered, “to keep people out?” “Yes,” Kieran replied. She threw up her arms in apparent exasperation. “Have you travelled through it? It was a nightmare, like something out of a horror movie! If you wanted to warn people off, you certainly did a good job. I almost turned back myself!" The girl screwed up her face, upturning her nose like the memory was enough to induce a horrible smell. Kieran smiled, despite himself. He got the sense that this dramatic performance was more for his benefit than hers. “It wasn't always there. People would wash up here by accident or ignore the signs in the game’s system that this was private property. Adding the danger zone was more for… dramatic effect than anything.” “Still, you didn’t have to make it so harrowing,” The girl shuddered again. “No, I guess not.” He laughed. “The darkness just felt fitting.” Kieran felt his smile slip. “Ironic, isn’t it? Even in my wildest fantasies, I’m still surrounded by things that scare me,” he grimaced. Kieran hadn’t intended for this place to go so wrong. The island was meant to represent hope, and he'd surrounded it in a veil of grey mist, like some villainous monster in his gilded lair. “Is that why you don’t bring anyone here? You’re scared?” “More like terrified.” It was his only truth. Fear was normal for him. A second skin that permanently stuck to his own. He knew that when people looked at him, that was what they saw first. He started to explain the story of how it all came to be. The success had come fast, he explained. Kieran had drawn his whole life, and this was the first time it had ever meant something to someone else. His people rallied behind him, and it was like he could finally give back all the belief and love they had bestowed upon him. Finally, he was worth it. He didn't understand the specifics when his team told him the market had suddenly changed. But he saw the effects. The colossal sum they had put into the project wasn’t turning a profit. His game lost support, and key investors dropped out. “It wasn’t the lack of success that was the problem. It was me.” Kieran paused, struggling to find the words to express what had happened. “I felt like a fraud, and I was sure they could see it. I pushed them away in the worst ways. I thought, if I did, they wouldn’t see the failure underneath.” He couldn’t forget the looks of hurt and anger on their faces. His friends, his mum, his girlfriend. The things he had said. Preying on their insecurities, when it was his that were screaming out. “I isolated myself, because that’s what I do. I sabotage things, and then I run away. I can’t seem to have a good thing without ruining it.” Kieran raised his arms - gesturing at the terrain, as if including his island on that list. “So that’s it, you never spoke to them again?” “That was a year ago. I lost contact, so I don’t know how they’re doing,” Kieran’s voice cracked. “I didn’t even ask.” They were approaching the top of the woods now. The trees had grown sparse, opening up to a winding rocky trail that spiralled above them towards the island's peak. They stopped. Kieran leaned against a tree facing the girl, who watched him with eyes like flash-lights, searching for something inside of him he didn’t know how to give. A sudden sense of familiarity washed over him, but he dispelled it. “So you see. They wouldn’t want to be here.” “Why not? Maybe it’s not about whether you can fix everything all at once. You just do the first brave thing you can, then the next until it gets easier.” He knew what she meant. She thought that when they crossed the danger zone, that would be the first step. After that, reaching out would be easier. The second skin that was painted over him would slowly peel away. “It’s that easy? Getting rid of fear is just one brave decision away?” Kieran waited. As the seconds ticked on, he realised he was embarrassingly desperate to hear what she had to say. She said nothing. The insects chirped around them. He looked away. “What’s the state of the world, anyway?” He was sure her AI statistics could offer him something appropriately dramatic to distract him. She shrugged, “I’m sure it's more of the same.” “The same?” Was there some unspoken code that everyone apart from him knew about? Why did people refer to ‘the same’ like it was some tangible thing they were all holding on to? If it was something he could reach, he didn’t have a clue where to find it. “I just mean the same as here. A little bit lost, a little bit lonely. Over there, everyone’s on their own island too. They’re just waiting for someone to be the first person to sail in.” Is that what Kieran had done - made a physical manifestation of the loneliness in his head? He thought of his friends. Were they trapped on their own islands, waiting for him to reach out to them? It was too late, surely. “I’m here.” “Huh?” It took Kieran a moment to realise he had spoken out loud. “Most people have unplugged, but the game-developers sent me here to save you. Doesn’t that mean that at least one person cares?” Kieran hadn’t thought about that before. “They’re just doing their jobs.” “Maybe. Or maybe in all the chaos of life, someone’s still out there, thinking of you.” Max Tcvetkov on Unsplash They reached the top of the peak. Approaching the summit’s edge, the view was beautiful and horrible all at once. The pixels had spread out across half of the skyline. Sharp lines of blurry, blue squares glared at them from the distance. It wouldn’t be long before they claimed the island. Kieran clenched his jaw and stalked towards the upturned boat further along the rocky ground. It was the boat he used when he first made the journey to the island. It was the boat he would use to leave it. He pressed his hand onto the smooth wood and watched as the boat vanished from view. A message flashed across his retinas. The item was now stored in his inventory. They would retrieve it when they got to the water. “I’m dreading it, I think. Part of me doesn’t want to cross the danger zone again,” the girl said. She stood beside him. “Me neither,” he admitted, turning to the pixels. He hadn’t answered her question before. He had never once crossed it. He was good at that, building glowering, impenetrable towers all around him and never being courageous enough to break them down. “But we must all face our fears at some point.” His words surprised him. Even more when he realised he meant them. When they reached the coast, the sun was already setting. The sky was a blurry collage of orange and pink squares; a dystopian portrait of the end of times. They glided the boat over the rocks. When the girl stepped in, Kieran steadied the ledge with his hands. His mouth felt dry. He wasn’t ready. She sat in the boat, the wind whipping around her in urgent, frenzied gusts. She waited, but he couldn't move. It couldn’t be over yet. This couldn’t be it. “Come on in. I’m anxious to start the journey,” she said. “I-I can’t.” The girl's mouth opened and closed again. She rose slowly and grabbed his fingers on the edge of the boat. It was only when he looked down that he noticed they had been slipping. “What do you mean you can’t?” “Go on ahead without me. You can do it; crossing the zone won’t be as hard on the flip side.” He spoke with more confidence than he felt. Her face clouded. A million plans and thoughts whizzed across her face, but she didn’t look afraid. He frowned, confusion bubbling inside of him, then sudden, bursting realisation. He stared at her like her face was morphing before his eyes. How had he not noticed before? A tide of emotion rose in his chest. It had all been so clear, right in front of him. “Please. Come with me. Be brave, Kieran. Be brave. You can’t stay here alone. You’re worth so much more than you realise. Let me prove it to you - beyond the danger zone.” He smiled. For the first time today, he felt calm. A still contentment amidst the storm. It was also the first time the girl had said his name. It was nice. Someone beyond the forest and the sand knew who he was. “I’ll be alright. I promise. I’m just not ready to let it go yet.” They stared at each other. The weight of everything they had shared passed back and forth between them. This was not how he wanted to leave things. He wanted to show her he could be brave. He wanted her to be proud. But perhaps the first step to bravery was one he had to make for himself. When he eventually let go, the girl did not resist and neither did the current. It carried her away until she was a small dot under a patchwork of sky. Eventually, he rested his head on the sand. Soon, it would be pitch black, and he wasn’t afraid for once. He tucked his hands behind his head and closed his eyes, waiting for the darkness to come. Someone had come for him. He didn’t know what he would do or if he’d have the courage to do the next brave thing. But for now, knowing someone was waiting for him when he was ready was enough. *** Kieran’s mother was always moving. Her life was a movie in motion; she looked forward, never back, always doing something new. But today was different. She sat still, her hands clasped around her son’s as he lay unmoving on his bed. Praying he would wake up. She was so proud of her boy, sometimes so proud she could burst. Building the simulation had been an epic display of his many talents, but she had always known he was capable of that and so much more - even if he struggled to believe it himself. A few months ago, when her son hadn‘t replied to her calls and avoided her visits, she knew that something was wrong. Kieran’s friends and the developers of his game had all reached out to her, just as concerned about her son. They hadn’t spoken in a year, and when they had tried to visit, he was locked up in his room - hooked to his simulation day and night. It was a scary thing to realise how far she had allowed her son to drift from her. But she would commandeer the wind and fly right back to him every time. So, she arranged to meet with his people. Maybe together they could find a way to bring her son back, and eventually they had a plan. The developers couldn't stop the simulation shutting down, but they could send someone in before it did. And that was how she found herself entering his island. Now, in the low flicker of candlelight, Kieran’s mother turned her son’s hand so his palm lay flat in hers, tracing lines onto the back of it like she did when he was little. Her heart clenched. Had the darkness reached him yet? She couldn’t help her questions. Was it the right call, leaving him there alone? Was he lonely? Seeing him on his island today had been like magic in a bottle. He was so confident and bold, just as much a part of the island as the wind and the waves. She had marvelled at his deft, unquestioning movements - just as much the brave and beautiful boy she had always known that he was. Several times as they journeyed across the island, she wanted to reach out and tell him that it was her; his mother had come for him. But she resisted. Just as he had guided her through the terrain, she could only guide him to the light. So, she waited by his side. She would wait until the light beside her flickered out and then long after that. Sometimes, you couldn’t drag someone out of their darkness. You only had to sit with them in that dark, sail onto their Island, and be still. When he opened his eyes, they would step into life’s danger zone together. Author's Note: This story represents what it is like to feel isolated, even surrounded by family and friends who love you. As a young person navigating life, Kieran's experience of feeling trapped by the weight of external pressure and the need to perform is a very relatable experience, especially for young people like me. I wanted to reflect what anxiety can look like when you feel stuck on your own island. The good news is, as I found to be true, there are probably more people rooting for you than you think! If you want to help someone who might be going through something like this, sometimes the best thing you can do is let them know you’re there for them -and still be there when they're ready to talk. This article has been sponsored by the Psychiatry Research Trust, who are dedicated to supporting young scientists in their groundbreaking research efforts within the field of mental health. If you wish to support their work, please consider donating.

I have always been fascinated by research that explores new ways of treating conditions that sit at the intersection of the mind and body. As our understanding of these complex relationships continues to grow, so does the potential for innovative and therapeutic approaches. I am currently conducting a systematic review as part of my dissertation for the course, MSc Psychology and Neuroscience of Mind-Body Interface. My research focuses on the efficacy and safety of low-intensity focused ultrasound (LIFU) and high-intensity focused ultrasound (HIFU) as emerging therapeutic interventions for psychiatric disorders such as depression. By critically evaluating the existing evidence, I hope to understand whether these technologies have a credible role to play in the future of mental health care. My research into focused ultrasound (FUS) has made me ask the question: can depression be treated with sound waves? Early-stage clinical trials suggest that this may be a possibility, although the evidence remains preliminary. At present, focused ultrasound (FUS) is already in clinical use and trial settings within the UK, including through the NHS at selected specialised centres. It is primarily used to treat conditions such as prostate cancer, liver cancer, essential tremor and uterine fibroids. In psychiatric research, however, low-intensity applications are still experimental. FUS is being investigated for its ability to modulate neural circuits implicated in mood regulation, offering a non-invasive and non-damaging alternative to more established techniques. Image Source: Yassine Ait Tahit on Unsplash Why Do We Need New Treatments for Depression? Major depressive disorder (MDD), commonly referred to as depression, is a mood disorder characterised by persistent feelings of sadness, loss of interest, and other symptoms such as sleep disturbances and changes in appetite. Depression is often treated with medications called antidepressants. However, these medications do not work for everyone. It is estimated that approximately 30% of patients with MDD do not achieve an adequate response to antidepressants. In clinical settings, the estimated percentage of patients who do not respond to antidepressants jumps to 55%. To help support this sizeable treatment-resistant population, there is a need for the development of new treatments. Image Source: Ahmed Hossam on Unsplash Low- and High-intensity Focused Ultrasound LIFU uses ultrasonic sound waves (sound waves that are too high-pitched for humans to hear) to target precise brain regions in order to change how specific areas of brain cells communicate with each other. Neurons are specialised brain cells that carry messages throughout the brain. They work together in complex networks to help us think, feel, and move. When these networks aren’t working properly, it can affect how the brain functions. LIFU aims to help by altering patterns of neural activity in specific brain regions. By influencing how neurons communicate, LIFU may help regulate the activity in brain regions involved in depression. Unlike LIFU, HIFU causes a permanent change to the brain tissue. HIFU uses much stronger ultrasound waves to cause heat damage to targeted brain regions - this is known as irreversible thermal ablation. This makes HIFU an especially useful technique for precision tumour eradication. Neuromodulatory Effects One of the most promising effects of FUS in psychiatric disorders, such as MDD, is neuromodulation. Neuromodulation involves stimulating or pharmacologically influencing specific brain regions to alter brain activity. Evidence suggests that the acoustic pressure waves generated by FUS activate mechanosensitive ion channels, which are proteins found on cell membranes. When mechanosensitive ion channels are activated, they convert the mechanical energy of ultrasound waves into electrical signals, altering the flow of ions (for example, calcium, sodium, and potassium ions) across the cell membrane which affects neuronal excitability. Depending on the stimulation parameters, FUS can either increase or decrease activity within targeted brain circuits, making it a promising tool for regulating brain networks disrupted in psychiatric conditions. Focused Ultrasound Parameters Scientists can control exactly how sound waves are sent. LIFU uses many different parameters, but these are the three main ones to know about: 1. Fundamental Frequency This is the main ultrasound frequency used to reach the target area of the brain. It helps determine how deeply the sound travels and how precisely it can be focused. 2. Pulse Repetition Frequency This is the number of pulses transmitted per second, controlling how often sound waves are sent. 3. Duty Cycle This is the proportion of time that the ultrasound is switched ON versus the time it is OFF. The pulse repetition frequency and the duty cycle work together to avoid tissue overheating by controlling how many pulses are given and how long they are active for, which gives the brain tissue time to cool down. Image Source: KOMMERS on Unsplash Three Key Features of Low-intensity Focused Ultrasound It is Non-ablative: LIFU is not permanent. Researchers can control treatments, and if it does not work for a patient, the treatment can be stopped without the patient experiencing any permanent brain damage. It is Non-invasive: LIFU does not require surgery or implantation. Although other non-invasive brain stimulation techniques exist, such as transcranial direct current stimulation and transcranial magnetic stimulation, these techniques are unable to stimulate deep brain structures such as the amygdala, the dorsal anterior cingulate cortex, and the subcallosal cingulate; brain areas which play a role in depression. It Works With High Precision: The sound waves are set to target deep brain structures with incredible precision, to the millimetre. This means that specific deep-brain areas functionally involved in depression can be targeted by LIFU. Where are we now with research on Low-intensity Focused Ultrasound in Depression? LIFU has been evidenced to reduce depression scores in treatment-resistant case studies as well as larger trials. Most studies also suggest that LIFU is well-tolerated without major side effects. However, some patients have reported mild side effects such as headaches, anxiety, or discomfort during treatment. Importantly, LIFU’s efficacy and safety are not restricted to MDD. LIFU has also been seen to be effective at improving other mental health disorders in clinical trials, such as treatment-resistant anxiety and substance use disorder. There is still more research needed to find the ideal parameter settings for each patient. Future research is needed to understand how strong the sound waves should be, how many pulses to send, and how long the waves should be switched on for. Finding the right combination of parameter settings for each condition is an important next step for making LIFU as effective as possible. LIFU is a promising new approach that could help people with depression and other mental health conditions, particularly those who have not responded to existing treatments. It does not require surgery, offers high precision, and, importantly, is non-ablative (destructive/permanent). While further research is still needed, the results from clinical trials so far are encouraging, and we should be enthusiastic about LIFU as a technique in mental health care.

I meet Natali over Zoom from her house in the Netherlands. This is not our first online meeting — in fact, online is how I met her a couple of years ago, attending one of her Raindance film school courses on self-branding for creatives. This time it’s just the two of us talking one-on-one. I’m keen to know the person behind the novelist, marketing consultant, and creative lecturer, now also a regular columnist on Inspire the Mind. “I’ve always been interested in mental health”, she says. “All my books are about women who are struggling.” But where does this struggle come from? Artwork by Natali J Simmonds Natali’s full name is Natali Juste Simmonds, although she writes under the pen names Natali Simmonds, N J Simmonds and Caedis Knight. “Readers prefer authors with short names”, she explains. “Plus Juste is constantly misspelled and mispronounced.” An irritating experience that I also know well. Her English mother and Spanish father met in Spain in the 70s. Raised in Barcelona until she was 7, Natali spent most of her young and adult life in London, until she returned to live in the south of Spain when her daughter, now 14, was ten months old. “I’ve always wanted to be a writer,” she says. “I’ve always wanted to tell stories, create worlds, and make people feel things.” Natali wrote her first story when she was 5; her father (a graphic designer and artist) would draw pictures and she would write the story to go with them. She couldn’t speak English fluently until she was 7, and wrote her first ‘book’ when she was 9: an adventure about woodland animals which she illustrated herself. She also kept diaries from the ages of 12 until 21, and during her two pregnancies. Although she jotted down plenty of story ideas during her teen years and twenties, she didn’t write her first novel until much later. “I was accepted to study English and Film at the University of East Anglia but never ended up going,” she confesses. “Sometimes I’m glad I didn’t waste three years, other times I regret not having the experience many of my peers have had.” Although she appreciates the irony that she now regularly teaches on Masters of Arts (MA) courses, and she still managed to have the career she always dreamed of. “Instead of higher education, I was eager to start working in the creative industry as soon as I could.” Based in London, Natali went on to work in editorial, advertising and marketing for glossy magazines, creative agencies, five-star hotels, and the travel industry. Moving to the south of Spain in 2010 meant she couldn’t continue her career to the same extent as she had in London, which is why she established herself as a freelancer. Being one of very few Spanish- and English-speaking, bilingual writers on the Costa del Sol, it meant she was able to write, art direct and provide marketing consultancy for various clients in the entertainment, wedding, and fashion sectors. But with every year that passed, her writer’s itch was becoming stronger and stronger. A photo of Natali “I was driving for hours every day to work, and spending my nights awake looking after my baby daughters.” (She had two girls two years apart). “The only way I could stay sane during that time was by losing myself in a story I had started to create in my mind.” This is how her first fantasy trilogy was born. From 2012–2015, Natali wrote The Path Keeper, the first of three fantasy romance books touching upon esoteric themes such as past lives and angelic realms. Her first novel found a publisher in 2016 and was published a year later, but what followed was a blunt awakening on the reality of being an author. Her publisher’s fantasy imprint folded, and Natali learned her second and third books were never going to be printed. Pulling her book away, she spent another nine months searching for a new publisher to get her trilogy back out into the world. It happened, but her journey from then until now has not been plain sailing. “It’s ironic that my first book was called The Path Keeper, because my path as an author has not been a smooth one,” she explains. “Thankfully the lessons I have learned along the way means I have plenty of material for my column in Inspire the Mind.” Things for Natali really took off in 2019 after she decided she needed to focus on “creative diversification.” (More on this in her first column.) Instead of worrying about the books she had already written she chose to branch out in as many different creative fields as possible. She went back to drawing and painting, wrote her first manga series, and self-published her co-written paranormal romance series. She also began teaching for various universities and creative institutions, and mentoring writers directly and through the Caedis Knight Romance Academy that she established with her co-writer, Jacqueline Silvester. Touching upon many different creative outlets helped her hit upon the book that would change the course of her writing career. “I suddenly realised the power of applying my marketing experience to my writing,” she says. “I asked myself: how can I summarise my next book idea in one sentence that’s exciting enough to hook a reader in as few words as possible?” Using this approach with her latest book, Good Girls Die Last (a feminist thriller about a girl battling to get home during a London heatwave, while the city is terrorised by a serial killer) not only landed her a literary agent in record time but a top publishing contract with Headline. The book is out in June 2023. Why a column in Inspire the Mind, then? Artwork by Natali J Simmonds “Being creative and looking after your mental health go hand in hand,” Natali explains. Over the years, she has struggled with various mental health concerns: from suspected postnatal depression with both her daughters, to OCD tendencies in her early twenties, to burnout when her first book faced so many problems. Moreover, reading and learning about mental health — neurodiversity, dyslexia and ADHD (attention deficit hyperactivity disorder) — allowed her to frame recurring difficulties across different generations in her family. “The mind of an artist is unique,” she says. “I come from a long line of creatives and understanding what I know now about how the mind works have helped me make sense of many things in my past.” Natali struggles with hyper focus and retention. Hyperfocus is common in people who work in the arts, and can be useful, for example, “if you are painting for ten hours straight, or write a book without looking up for a week, something that creatives need to do to succeed”. She also can’t function if there’s too much noise or input, getting easily overwhelmed. Upon investigating further she discovered she suffers from misophonia — a decreased tolerance to certain repetitive sounds, like those produced when people are eating. But her interest in mental health is also about supporting the wellbeing of artists and creatives, whose careers and lived experiences are less than ordinary. “Making a living from being creative is very hard”, she explains. “The multitude of rejections, the unpredictability of success, the subjectivity of judgement and criticism, the absence of meritocracy, and the lack of regular payments, all add to what is already a taxing job.” Natali talks about the financial instability of those working in the arts, and how it’s a major stress factor for creatives. “I hate the narrative that being a poor artist is somehow romantic,” she says with passion. “Romanticism doesn’t pay the mortgage”. This is why diversifying creatively is so important to Natali: “If you put all your eggs in one creative basket, and it goes wrong — as it often does — you are going to suffer both emotionally and financially.” And this is why she wanted to write for Inspire the Mind. “I use creative diversity to manage my workload and keep sane,” she tells me. “With so many aspects of my career that I have such little control over, I like to have many things on the go so I have peace of mind that if one thing doesn’t go to plan, another might.” She has named her column “Creativity & Balance” — in the hope to bring the latter to those who have the former. She wants to talk about the fact that “there is not a right or wrong way to make art, that there is never just one path to creative success, and that mistakes are simply learning opportunities and stepping stones to the next big thing.” Her compassion for creatives is evident in everything she says: “There are so many twists and turns in this game, being kind to yourself is really important. Give yourself a break. The next thing will be better”. I ask her to sum up what it means to be a writer, a creative who is always conscious of looking after her mental health. She shrugs and smiles, “it’s important to remember that, at the end of the day, nothing I do for work is life or death. We creatives simply tell stories. None of this is real.” I am looking forward to some amazing reading!

How do you become a success in the arts without losing your mind? That’s a question I’ve been asking myself for decades. Unlike other industries where hard work and talent equate to more money and longevity, art of any kind is not a meritocracy. Photo by No Revisions on Unsplash In his book Outliers: The Story of Success, Malcolm Gladwell stated that you can be an expert in anything if you practice for 10,000 hours — but the truth is creativity takes more than just time, it takes passion, perseverance, and a healthy dose of natural talent. Yet out of a thousand equally talented artists, writers, musicians, etc, not all of them are guaranteed to make a decent living from their art. This is why, although every successful creative started out as an amateur who didn’t give up, many do give up at the first hurdle. This is because it’s hard to stay mentally strong in a career in which you have very little control. Even if you are the best, and the hardest worker, success is still not guaranteed (especially financial reward). So how can you make a living in a field that is both subjective and inconsistent? And how do you stop it from affecting your self-confidence, mental health, and productivity? Image by Albrecht Fietz on Pixabay I’m a novelist who suffered from burnout in 2019 after I’d spent a couple of years putting all my creative eggs into one basket. I’d written a book that, like most, didn’t become an overnight bestseller; and with so much of my self-worth wrapped up in one piece of work, I found myself spiralling. But I’m glad that happened because that’s when I had my lightbulb moment. I stepped back and looked at what it means to be an artist, and that’s when I realised what all creatives with long and successful careers had in common… Momentum. When you’re forever moving forward, hope is always around the corner — and no one gives up or gets down when they feel hopeful. As soon as I began my research, I discovered that the artists with the most longevity were prolific and creatively diverse, trying lots of new things and collaborating with other talented artists. In other words, they didn’t overthink what they did or put their eggs in one basket. They just kept going…and in more than one direction. Photo by Soundtrap on Unsplash The more I learned about creative diversity the more I realised that artistic longevity was about staying in the game and staying current, by trying new things and working with others. Talent and hard work matter, of course it does, but much like sales, art is a numbers game and success depends on getting seen. And how do you do that? You try as many things as possible, and in turn, reach as many audiences as you can. Through creative diversification, you always have more than one plate spinning, so when one falls and smashes it doesn’t matter because you get to remain hopeful about the rest (sanity). It also helps you make more money (even more peace of mind). Photo by Mika Baumeister on Unsplash Everyone knows that being an artist means feast or famine. Even if you’re lucky enough to get a big payout for your work, it doesn’t guarantee there will be another. The concept of a poor artist may sound romantic, but when you have a mortgage to pay there’s nothing noble about making no money. By diversifying your skills in order to be as prolific as possible, you can create many income streams. If you can write a book, you can write lots of other things. If you can paint with oils, you can most likely create art in other ways. If you can play one genre of music, you can probably teach it or write it for others. Talent can be stretched and applied in many places…all at once. Image by Таня Добрая on Pixabay Let’s look at creative diversification in action through the life and works of Salvador Dalí. I have a very personal link with this Catalan artist as my grandfather studied alongside him at art school. Needless to say, only one of them understood the secret to getting rich and famous! Born in Figueres in 1904, Salvador Dalí was a talented artist from a young age. Much like another prolific artist, Picasso, Dalí tried his hand at everything from painting and sculpture to fashion and film. And much like his contemporary, he didn’t stick to one genre or even one way to express himself. By networking and branching out into other creative mediums, he was able to reach a vaster audience. Influenced by everyone from Miró to Freud, he even collaborated with fashion designers including Coco Chanel and filmmakers such as Alfred Hitchcock and Walt Disney. This expansion, this embracing of creativity without an end goal, will always bring opportunity. And with opportunity comes learning, growth, visibility, and money. Image by WikiImages from Pixabay If I were to ask you to name all the works of art by Dalí you would probably say ‘the melted clock one, the lobster phone, and that one where the elephant has long legs.’ The truth is that the artist was so productive, so brave, and so commercially minded that during his eighty-four years, he created tens of thousands of pieces of work including paintings, prints, sculptures, costumes, movies, advertisements, and set designs. And with every one of those projects, he orchestrated endless revenue streams and reached new audiences, forever increasing his chances of the next piece of art being ‘the one’. And many did. In 2011 his painting ‘Portrait of Paul Eluard’ sold for a whopping $22.5 million. Artists from Dolly Parton and Neil Gaiman, to Rihanna and Da Vinci, have been unafraid to try new ways of expressing their creativity across many different mediums. And that’s how I turned my career around. Photo by Markus Winkler on Unsplash As soon as I discovered that diversification was the key to creative success and peace of mind, my life changed. Many of the skills I already had for one type of creativity were easily applied to others. I continued to write fantasy novels, but I also tried other genres like manga, middle grade, and paranormal romance. I started to co-write with other authors. I began lecturing, writing articles for magazines and newspapers (I have my own column in Inspire The Mind magazine), painting and drawing more, working as a consultant with big brands, teaming up with people in film, and eventually branching out into thriller writing (you read more about my journey here). I stopped worrying about the success of each individual project or whether I was being taken seriously, and instead focussed on being prolific — which simply meant producing good art. And it worked. Natali Simmonds (and collaborators) alongside her fantasy novels, paranormal romance series, and manga I started to not only get noticed, increase my portfolio of work, make more money and gain experience, but I once again felt hopeful about my career. By diversifying my creativity, I know there’s always good stuff ahead. So if you’re struggling with what direction to take next with your art, or feeling like there’s no hope, try saying yes to everything, stretching out your skills, and hedging your bets a little. You may even find that your perceived failures turn out to simply be stepping stones to the next project. And who knows? Your next project may well be the one that changes your life!

There are two types of creatives in this world; those who are hounded day and night by ideas forcing their way into the mind with jagged teeth and sharpened claws refusing to be ignored, and those who sit before an empty notebook eager to write, to paint, to compose, but don’t have any inspiration. There is torture in both, but as someone who has been plagued every second of her life by uninvited muses and ideas that she will never live long enough to utilise, believe me when I say that not having enough ideas is a lot easier to remedy than having too many. If you are someone who enjoys the act of creation but struggles with inspiration, then let’s first look at why you may be having trouble getting started. Art is magic. Real magic. Turning a thought from one person’s mind into something tangible is a very special kind of alchemy. In fact, it’s more than that — it’s a gift and an honour. Image source: Pixabay And this can be why the blank page means different things to different people. It can be an endless world of possibilities, and likewise it can be the most terrifying sight to behold. Doubt, fear, and struggling to find joy often stand in the way of an artist and their art. Scottish philosopher, David Hume, once said “Beauty in things exists in the mind which contemplates them.” It’s the search for beauty that ignites us and leads us to great ideas — but when you’re unable to take that step forward with your work, that leap into the unknown, that’s when creativity turns from feathered wings to a binding tie. It is human to doubt oneself, but that doubt can create writer’s block or make you discount every idea that you have. What if your idea isn’t special and it’s been done a thousand times before? What if people will laugh? What if you’re not good enough? Considering every book, song, or painting began with one thought, often accompanied by a mark on paper, it stands to reason that making that first step of committing thought into ink can be incredibly daunting. Taking something that has only ever existed inside your mind and making it into something that all can enjoy often feels like a huge responsibility. If you struggle with these thoughts then step back, take a deep breath, and remember that the pen in your hand may be mightier than the sword, but it’s no scalpel. You won’t hurt anyone if you get it wrong the first time. Say it again — ‘you can’t make a mistake when it comes to art.’ The very act of trying to create is part of the art’s journey. Is there anything more wonderful that seeing the light pencil sketches visible beneath the paint of an old masterpiece? Or getting to read the deleted scenes from a bestseller? Even the parts of a movie that ended up on the cutting room floor are fascinating to watch. Image source: Pixabay The journey matters — including the parts we first deem as a mistake. That’s what makes each of our creations so special. It doesn’t matter whether you’re making a ceramic bowl or writing a novel, because it’s you who’s creating that piece. It’s your touch that will make it individual and unique. There are no mistakes in art, and everything you do makes your work unique, but where do you start? Let’s take a look at inspiration: Towards the end of 2019, I found myself in a really big creative slump. It wasn’t that I was short of ideas, I simply didn’t know what direction to go in. Elizabeth Gilbert’s book Big Magic changed my life. Yes, that’s a rather grandiose statement, but it’s true. OK, perhaps not my entire life, but definitely my creative career. Gilbert’s book is about the power of creativity and ideas, and in it she says, “The universe buries strange jewels deep within us all, and then stands back to see if we can find them.” And she’s right. Over the years, I’ve written many an article listing all the great places where you can find inspiration for your next novel. I’ve suggested long walks in nature, listening in on conversations in cafes, flicking through old family portraits, and scrolling through social media. All of these ideas are valid and useful. It was a Twitter thread that inspired me to write my thriller debut Good Girls Die Last. A dream inspired my fantasy trilogy, The Path Keeper. And the book I’m currently writing was partly inspired by a movie I watched when I was a teenager and a real-life story I read about in the newspaper. Image source: Pixabay Yet, hunting for ideas isn’t it. That’s not what’s going to create a masterpiece. As Gilbert says in her book, the strange jewels are already hidden inside of us — because we are forever soaking up inspiration without ever going out to look for it. And that’s the magic that makes great art. Not the idea itself, but the emotional connection you have with it. And much like the emotions that get in the way of you and your creations — the fear, doubt, and uncertainty — it’s the emotions that make you really feel something that will wake up your muse monsters. So instead of thinking about whether to draw a tree or a boat, or whether to write a romance or a horror novel, ask yourself what makes you feel. What gets you angry? What do you miss or long for? What makes you anxious? And with those emotions come memories. This process can be painful, it can even take you to dark or uncomfortable places, but art is not meant to be easy. If you want the people listening to your music, looking at your painting, or reading your book to really feel something…then you too need to feel something powerful. So start there. Start with the emotion. Image source: lukasbieri on Pixabay When I wrote my feminist thriller, Good Girls Die Last, I was spurred into action by a tweet and inspired by the movie Falling Down. But in reality, it was the feelings of anger, frustration, and fear that propelled me. Anger over the kidnapping, rape, and death of Sarah Everard at the hands of a Met police officer. Frustration that no matter what women do, we can never be safe. Fear that what happened to her could, and did, happen to more women. Tapping into that unearthed the plot of my book, the characters, and the themes. Prepare yourself, because once you tap into your feelings, a trickle can soon become a deluge. Pouring your emotions into your work can unearth a lot of trauma that you may not realise you were harbouring, but it can also be cathartic, therapeutic, and freeing. But most importantly of all, if you feel something big as you create then the person you are creating for will feel it too. And that’s what art is — making people feel. So, next time you find yourself staring at a blank page, don’t think you have to fill it. Instead feel it. Ask yourself what is really on your mind, what is really standing in your way, and channel it. Make your mark. Just start. That first scribble on your crisp white paper may not be perfect, hell, it may not even make the final cut — but you jumped. You did it. You started to create. And the rest? The rest is easy.

Photo by Sydney Sims on Unsplash It was May 2019 and I’d recently turned forty. I didn’t feel right. In fact, I felt so little like myself I went to see a doctor. ‘I can’t sleep,’ I said to her. ‘Everything overwhelms me. I’m on the verge of tears all day, my mood swings are erratic. I have pins and needles in my hands and feet and sometimes my face goes numb. I get headaches and feel faint. I think I’m perimenopausal or deficient in something.’ She asked me some questions, I couldn’t stop crying, she placed her hand on my arm and said, "you are burned out and experiencing high levels of stress. You need help before you have a complete breakdown." Breakdown? I didn’t understand. I knew what burnout was. It was what executives got, what celebrities went through, and what people with high-powered, stressful jobs experienced when they pushed themselves too hard. I couldn’t possibly be burned out. How? I was a freelancer and an author and a mother. I didn’t have a boss. I didn’t even have a regular income! But the doctor was right. Had I not sought help, I would have got very ill indeed. Photo by Elisa Ventur on Unsplash What followed was twelve weeks of one-hour, face-to-face, cognitive therapy, a lot of self-discovery, and an insight into the dangers of trying to control the uncontrollable. The term ‘burnout’ describes a severe stress condition that leads to serious physical, mental, and emotional exhaustion. It was coined by psychologist Herbert Freudenberger in the 1970s and is not the same as exhaustion or depression. We’ve all remarked on occasion that we are ‘really stressed’, but chronic stress can be the cause of serious mental and physical health implications, and in extreme cases can lead to a heart attack and death. This all made sense to me in theory, anxiety can manifest itself in many different ways. but I wasn’t a world leader or saving lives on a day-to-day basis — I was just writing books. How can staying at home and making up stories lead to such high levels of exhaustion and stress that I was losing the sensation in my face?! Trying to control the uncontrollable In 2019 I was at a crossroads in my writing career, as I also briefly mentioned in my interview introducing this column. Picture from njsimmonds.com My debut novel The Path Keeper (the first of a trilogy) had done well in 2017 but the publisher’s imprint had folded, and I’d been left with no one to publish the rest of the series. In 2019 I was with a new publisher who was re-publishing my book again. It felt like a ‘now or never’ opportunity. This unique scenario had me telling myself narratives about my career that were simply not true: "If this book doesn’t do well my career as an author is over." "If I work really hard I can make a big difference to sales numbers." "If my book bombs, it’s all my own fault." In short, I was taking on the mental responsibility for something I had zero control over. It was akin to telling someone, "if it rains on your sister’s wedding day tomorrow it will ruin everything. So make sure it doesn’t rain." Mentally, that was a huge and unnecessary strain. But physically I wasn’t looking after myself either… Photo by Marcel Strauß on Unsplash Living a reactive life The life of any creative is not a simple one. When you work from home with no fixed hours, no fixed salary, and a head full of ideas, it’s very easy to find yourself living a reactive, and unhealthy, lifestyle. I would wake up at 1am with an idea and get up to write it immediately. A client would ask me to work on a project and I’d drop everything to take it on straight away because I couldn’t say no to money coming in. I’d be waiting six weeks for my editor to get back to me with feedback then get given a week to complete my edits. Living this way, along with raising two children and running a home single-handedly (my husband was away with work often and we live in a different country to most of our family) meant I wasn’t putting my health first. I would eat erratically, sleep erratically, not get any exercise, and take on more work than I could manage. The fact that I was also trying to control the uncontrollable while feeling empowered by the damaging superwoman myth meant I didn’t even recognise anything was wrong. I took pride in doing too much, pushing myself too hard, and expecting so much of myself. I thought I could do it all and it didn’t even occur to me to ask for help. How could I possibly reach out to others? I was living the dream! I was an author, and a freelance writer, I had two wonderful children and lived abroad with a husband who has a great job. What did I have to complain about? And that’s why many people in the creative industry get ill. Not because our work is any harder than that of others, or because we are less able to manage our workload, but because society doesn’t deem what we do as difficult or worthy enough to get stressed about. So we don’t ask for help when we struggle to cope. ‘Why don’t you just stop?’ people said to me. ‘You don’t have to write books if it’s too much for you.’ And it was hearing those truths that made me keep my mouth shut and keep going without letting those around me know just how hard I was finding it all. I wanted this life, I wanted it all, and I made myself ill doing it badly. Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash How to avoid burnout as an author I learned a lot during this difficult experience and the subsequent cognitive therapy I received. I’m still an author, a freelancer, and a happily married mother of two children who lives abroad, but I have learned how to lead the life I want in a healthier (and more manageable) way. And here’s how you can too: Recognise when you’re feeling anxious or exhausted and allow yourself a day off. Just because you are your own boss doesn’t mean you can’t take it easy now and then. Plan your day and stick to it. Work the hours you set yourself, and don’t be tempted to get up at 3am to write that story. Eat well, sleep well, exercise. You’re worth it. Communicate with those who love you. Your job may look easy, but they don’t know what mental strain you are dealing with. Reach out and ask for help. Manage the expectations of others too; your clients, your children, and your friends. Boundaries are a must when you don’t have a place of work to go to each day or a fixed itinerary. And finally, share your story with others. For a long time, I was ashamed that I’d allowed myself to get this ill over what was, fundamentally, not a life-and-death situation. I could have avoided those six months of physical and mental strain had I recognised the symptoms and given myself a break. And that is why I have written this article in the hope that other creatives will also be kinder to themselves. The arts are not a meritocracy, not everything we do moves the needle in terms of increasing income, sales or exposure, and sometimes a little rest and a little grace can go a long way. As an artist you have a lot to give the world, so don’t let your creative dreams get in the way of looking after yourself!

I hear it often — "You’re so lucky!" In itself, "you’re so lucky" is a perfectly innocuous phrase. There are a lot of things in my life that I can attribute to luck; the safe and affluent country in which I was born and raised, the loving family I’m surrounded by, or my happy, healthy children. Yet, when people call me lucky, they’re rarely talking about those things. They’re talking about my career. Photo by Dayne Topkin on Unsplash According to research conducted by Remitly, the second most coveted job in the world is being a writer (the first is ‘pilot’ and the third is ‘dancer’). I am literally living the dream. Does that make me thankful that I get paid every morning to do the things I love? Yes. Does that make me lucky? No. Let me tell you a few things about creativity and luck, and all the things an artist has to actually do to appear "lucky". Before we start, I’m going to be completely transparent. Getting a head start To be a success in the arts you need to be able to sustain yourself. Everybody knows writing doesn’t pay — at least, not to begin with — so, to be lucky enough to even contemplate a career in the arts, it helps if you already have an income. The luckiest among us are born into wealth, and the less lucky, like me, have a second job and/or live in a household with more than one income. Nobody would call a person working their day job followed by writing into the early hours of the morning "lucky", but in most cases, that’s what it takes. Many people refer to the arts as a romantic vocation, but there’s nothing romantic about being poor (plus anxiety isn’t great for creativity). Therefore, if you’re not lucky enough to have someone else financially sustain you as you follow your dreams, then be prepared to work doubly hard. Photo by Alois Komenda on Unsplash Beating the odds Getting lucky in the arts is not like hitting the Vegas strip and hoping for the best. It takes a long time to become an overnight success. Saying to an author "Wow, you’re so lucky to be a New York Times Bestseller" is probably not the compliment you think it is. Being a bestseller involves a level of talent (that goes without saying), and a lot of hard work, but the rest is simply good business. Not luck. Let’s take a look at what it really takes to be a "lucky" bestseller. Firstly, that author had to start writing their book when they probably didn’t have the time, energy, or money to dedicate to (what is often) a fruitless endeavour. But they did it anyway. They had to learn the craft, which means there were many failed attempts before this one and a lot of hard knocks. But they didn’t give up. They then had to FINISH the book (easier said than done). The odds of finding a literary agent to represent you is 1/1000. Yet even once you have an agent you may not get a book deal. Then, if you DO get a book deal (because your book is better/more marketable than the others) you are still up against 600 books published every day in the US, and just over 500 per day in the UK. In fact, the UK publishes more books per capita than any other country! And if you have been signed by a traditional publisher, you and your team (editor, agent, publicist) need to promote the hell out of that book to generate enough sales. All the above doesn’t cost you any money, and a lot of your success depends on how powerful your publisher is, but becoming a traditionally published bestseller doesn’t involve luck — it involves hard work and good business acumen. The iceberg effect For every artist who looks like they have luck on their side, below the surface you will find a person who never gave up and a rocky path full of mistakes. To be a successful artist you don’t just have to be good at your craft, you have to understand the industry. By the time I wrote my debut thriller, Good Girls Die Last, I already knew dozens (if not hundreds) of people in the industry. I understood how the writing world works and what agents and editors were looking for (and weren’t), all my friends were writers, and I’d made plenty of mistakes along the way. I secured one of the best agents in the business in three days. Was I lucky? No. She found me on Twitter (where I’d been growing my following for over six years) via one of my writer friends. I’d spent ten years perfecting my writing. I’d done my research. I knew how to sell my work. This may all sound very unromantic, everyone loves to read about destiny and luck, but when it comes to creative success most of it is no accident. There’s a big difference between being fortunate (maybe my career would look different had my agent not been online that day), but neither was my book randomly picked from a pile of manuscripts like a fairground lucky dip. So if most of our luck is made, how can you get luckier? Photo by Amy Reed on Unsplash Change your mindset The problem with luck and being a writer (or any other profession in the arts) is that it’s far too easy, when the going gets tough, to believe some people are simply luckier than others. I don’t blame artists for wanting a get-out clause in this game. It can take years, sometimes decades, to catch a break. It hurts a lot less to tell yourself some people are luckier than others and give up than to look at your work and your approach to your craft and admit that you need to do better. Success in the arts has nothing to do with luck. Neither does it solely have to do with talent. Many people are talented, so unfortunately that is rarely a differentiating factor (the arts are subjective and not a meritocracy). The "luckiest" people I know that have reached their goals all have one thing in common; the right mindset. Remember the three Rs. - Radiance: Be positive, focus on the positive, and exude positivity. Even when you are feeling far from happy on the inside, how you are perceived by others matters a lot. There are a lot of highs in this industry, but unfortunately, there are even more lows — so be prepared to be someone who always looks on the bright side. - Resilience: Learn to bounce back and not take things personally. This is easier said than done, but tough skin is crucial in the arts. - Recalibration: As Henry Ford famously said — “If you always do what you always did, you’ll always get what you always got.” If something isn’t working, change it. That’s not giving up, it’s changing direction. If you take the wrong turn does your GPS call you a failure and switch off? No. It recalibrates and shows you a different route. Successful authors recalibrate all the time. For example, when I was first published I was writing fantasy books. They were good enough to be signed by more than one publisher, but they didn’t sell very well because I needed a good agent and a bigger publisher. I wrote more fantasy books, but no agent wanted them. It was impossible to not feel hopeless. What was I doing wrong? Then I realised had three choices: Continue what I was doing and tell myself that other writers were simply luckier than I was. It wasn’t my fault. Give up writing. Recalibrate. I chose number 3 and started to write a different genre (a thriller) under a new pen name. I was still telling the type of stories I loved, and I still stayed true to myself, but it was a fresh start and a more commercial approach. By stopping, taking note of where I was and where I was trying to get to, and changing tactics, I not only secured myself a great agent and top publisher but that first thriller of mine, Good Girls Die Last, is now being adapted to TV. And the best part is that I’m still writing fantasy books, I simply diversified and opened up to new possibilities. When people tell writers to ‘never give up’, they don’t mean keep doing the thing that isn’t working; they mean never give up hope. Learn, get better, and work hard BUT also work smarter. In other words... recalibrate. Photo by Lesly B. Juarez on Unsplash The luck equation I’ve worked in the creative field for over twenty-five years (as both a writer and in marketing), and in that time I’ve seen a lot of talent. But I’ve also seen a lot of wasted talent. Not because of bad luck, but because they didn’t recognise opportunity when it was staring them in the face. A positive mindset means understanding, and accepting, the following equation: Knowledge + Tenacity + Self-belief + Opportunity = Luck To be lucky in the creative world you need skill, yes, plus tenacity and self-belief, of course, but you also need to recognise when the universe is giving you your shot. And that’s what differentiates the so-called ‘lucky’ from the ‘unlucky.’ So next time you want to blame luck for your perceived failures, ask yourself if you truly took your shot. Find the strength, confidence, and brazenness to speak to that industry professional, make friends with other creatives, join a club, learn more, communicate more, and put yourself out there. Chance, serendipity, fate, luck…whatever you want to call it…only happens when you help it happen. This reminds me of a joke my dad likes to tell. A man is praying to God: Please, Lord, I’ve been praying to win the lottery for years and you always ignore me. Help me win some money. I beg of you. God: Dude, I’m trying here, but you have to buy a lottery ticket first! So next time you’re feeling unlucky remember the three Rs and do the maths, and who knows…you may end up being one of the ‘lucky ones’ after all!

The arts and business don’t mix. They should. They need to. But no one likes to talk about the two together. I’ve been a published fiction author for six years and, since 1998, I’ve worked in many forms of marketing. I now have the pleasure of combining my two storytelling passions as a brand consultant for various clients, as well as lecturing on self-branding for creatives at London’s Raindance Film School. In that time I’ve learned that people don’t feel comfortable discovering the business side of the arts. I once taught a self-publicity module on a business MA course at The Hague University of Applied Sciences. It was all going well, everyone nodding along, until I mentioned I was a writer. “But surely this doesn’t apply to the arts,” one student said. “Creativity sells itself. Only the best do well.” I went to answer but was interrupted by another confused student. “Writers should be doing it for the love of their art, anyway… money shouldn’t be their motivation.” These two fallacies are part of the reason that creatives feel uncomfortable with self-promotion, and probably why it’s an industry where few people are making a decent living. None of these students wanted to hear that their best-loved books were popular because they were well marketed. They assumed (as the industry wants you to) that the books which make The Sunday Times bestsellers list are there simply because readers love them the most. We are led to believe that movies make huge box office profits in week one because they are the best film out at the moment. We presume artists, actors, and musicians win prizes because they’re the most talented. Photo by Patrick Fore on Unsplash Not entirely true. Putting aside the fact that art is subjective and there is no ‘best’ and skimming over the fact that artists deserve fair pay (no one should be expected to give away their skills for the sheer love of it) – creatives and their projects are successful because of one thing. Marketing. Self-branding. Exposure. Promotion. Advertising. Hype. Word of mouth. PR. Whatever you want to call it…whether someone has immense talent or not, if you don’t know that something or someone exists you are not going to purchase it nor consume it. In this article I’m not going to talk about how to promote yourself – I will be discussing why creatives need to be seen and asking why they often feel uncomfortable with self-promotion. Let’s start with society expectations of the arts. For centuries artists have been painted as private people with an unbridled talent who need not show their face in order to touch the world with their brilliance. You know that shy retiring writer type… The cardigan-wearing scribe, surrounded by a clowder of cats and screwed up balls of paper at her feet, hunched over her desk from dawn until dusk, or the poor painter who refuses to speak to anyone and lives only for their work. There’s something almost romantic about those images, it’s endearing and comforting to think that our favourite pieces of art became popular thanks to nothing more than the sheer brilliance of the artist. Yet the reality is that, in this day and age, that haunted writer who spends her days turning coffee into magical stories, and the suffering painter who dare not show his face, are not going to succeed unless they and their work are promoted – either by a professional team or themselves. I met a writer once who said to me, “I don’t understand why you need to market yourself if you’re a good writer, the book speaks for itself.” If that were true, then every writer would be relying solely on word of mouth and chance. Good luck with that! Wanting to make a living from your art but not wanting to promote it is like baking an amazing cake. Imagine it. Your cake has three layers, soft and moist with silky chocolate icing. It has fresh cream and juicy berries on top, and maybe a dash of rum inside. My goodness, it even has chocolate shavings! Photo by Umesh Soni on Unsplash So what are you going to do with that cake? Well, if you are like many modest and nervous creatives you are going to put that cake in a tin, put the tin inside a cupboard, and shut the kitchen door. Then you are going to go outside and lock the front door and never mention that cake to a soul. Then a few days later you’re going to get ever so, ever so upset that no one…not one person…has said how much they loved your cake. It’s a great cake; you put so much effort into it. Surely the proof of the pudding is in the eating, why haven’t they even tried a piece? BECAUSE THEY DON’T KNOW YOUR CAKE EXISTS! I understand the desire to do nothing all day but express yourself through your art, but unless you are already making money elsewhere no artist can avoid having to promote their work. Why? Because in order to buy what you’re selling, the consumer needs to know and care about it. Every day the potential consumers of our art are scrolling through their phones or watching TV, waiting for the next breaking news story, bombarded by information and advertising cleverly curated to their needs by cookies and algorithms. It’s far too easy for the best of work to get lost among this overwhelming noise and influx of information. And that’s why, with content being at a record-breaking high, we have to ensure we are not only seen but wanted. Books and music and movies, as a business, are no different to anything else on the market. If you were to invent a new car or coffee brand, people would expect you to promote it – yet it’s viewed, by many, as unsavoury to promote the arts. Perhaps because these songs and books are created by passionate people pouring their hearts and souls into their projects. Art is seen as personal not product. So how do you stay true to your art while being commercially minded too? How can you ensure you are seen without looking callous and dissociated from your work? The answer to that is mindset. Shame, discomfort, and a sense of helplessness is often the reason why creatives shy away from promoting their work. They don’t want to appear big-headed; they don’t want the attention, or they don’t see the need for it. So I’m going to leave you with one thing to ponder over which may help you see things differently. What if, instead of viewing self-promotion as you pushing your work on to others, you approach it as you giving those who you know will enjoy your work the opportunity to know it exists. You are not selling, you are showing. You are not shouting about yourself, you are allowing yourself to be seen. Often it’s these small adjustments in thinking that give us permission to be proud and excited about our work, and therefore allowing ourselves to share it comfortably with the world. And then, because it IS good, those who enjoy it will begin to do the promoting for us. So look up from your work, consider who you think will enjoy it, and make sure they see it. You are worth it. Your work is worth it. And those you are making it for will thank you for sharing it with them.