How much creative debt are you carrying?
Interest compounds on the things you never start
Hi there! You’re reading the Bonfire newsletter from Kevan Lee & Shannon Deep. If you like the types of things we talk about here, you’ll enjoy our online events and in-person retreats. Want to hang out together in 2027? Details here.
Let’s talk about something really un-fun: the concept of debt.
The idea of any kind of debt is that you are borrowing from your future, right? You are getting something now, in exchange for being able to pay for it—usually in full and then some!—at a later date.
Financial debt of course works this way, but, figuratively, so do other things. We’ve got sleep debt, technical debt, and procrastination is a kind of debt that you pay for in last-minute panic.
I’d argue there’s actually “good debt” and “bad debt,” and the difference is in the interest rate, if you follow my analogy.
We need good debt, because it makes things possible that would be otherwise impossible. It costs us later, but what we pay is worth the ability to have/do something now. Good debt could be anything from literally buying a house or a car you would otherwise never have enough money for all at once, to pushing through and finishing an important project and putting off sleep, or even giving up weekends for a month to learn a new skill faster.
The figurative interest on good debt is manageable, because it’s either possible to pay a little over a long time (like responsible financial debt), or it was small to begin with (1 late night = 1 groggy morning, paid back by 1 good nap), or it converts into an investment (the skills you gained by giving up your free time are worth more to you than the month of no weekends).
But bad debt is debt that racks up interest faster than you could possibly ever pay down. Meaning: the value of what you’ve received will never even out to what you owe and owe and owe.
And lately, I’ve been thinking about a kind of debt whose interest rate, I believe, is always untenably high:
Creative debt.
What’s creative debt?
Creative debt occurs when we keep borrowing time from the creative projects/practice/life we’re always telling ourselves we’ll get around to later, so that we can have something else now, usually time or comfort or perceived safety. We “take” from that creative future because there are things in the present that are either more urgent or simply feel like they should be more important.
Creative debt can sound like:
“I’ll get back to [creative project] when work settles down.”
“I’ll start [creative project] after this busy season.”
“I’ve always wanted to learn [creative project], but it’s not productive.”
“I should really launch that [creative project], but it’ll change how people see me.”
“I miss making [creative project], but I don’t have time.”
Every time we say “not now,” or “not yet,” we’re taking out another small loan against the creatively fulfilled version of ourselves we hope to become. And while we’ll never have to pay for this debt in cash, we may end up paying for it in regrets. Or a feeling of never having fully exercised a particular muscle or scratched a specific itch.
Like all debts, creative debt starts out manageable. A few months of putting it off becomes a year, and then a year becomes five. And then suddenly, we’re not just someone who hasn’t started [creative project] yet, we’re someone who doesn’t start things. That’s a really dangerous narrative! Our circumstances get all confused with our identities, and we start spiraling: Maybe I’m not disciplined enough. Maybe I’m not actually a creative person. Maybe it wasn’t really that important to me.
But I don’t think that’s true! It’s more that life is astonishingly good at filling up every nook, cranny, and crack with musts and shoulds and obligations and general stuff to do, and the creative parts of ourselves—the ones that don’t have deadlines or salaries or performance reviews—are always going to be the easiest to postpone.
Here’s a personal example: In 2015, I started working for a branding agency for the first time and I was no longer doing writing and script consulting gigs (my creative passions!). Coincidentally, I started a podcast with my best friend around the same time. We produced that podcast weekly for almost 7 years! It was a blast, and it was a really silly, joyful creative outlet for me, so much so that I, unknowingly, was staving off the creative debt collectors.
The podcast was allowing me to make small, regular payments on my creative debt, and I didn’t even realize it. I honestly just kind of thought that I didn’t really “miss” writing and theater that much—that I must not have an unslakable thirst to make things like I thought.
Then the podcast ended in 2022…and boy, did I notice! I was shocked at how uncomfy I felt, how bored and unsatisfied I was at work, and how much “extra” energy I suddenly had to create. (I started some long-term creative projects and haven’t stopped.)
All that to say: Your creative identity is always important, but not often urgent. Because, as we’ve discussed at length elsewhere, what your creativity needs is time, space, safety, and permission to actually unfurl! “Hurry up and be creative in this little box! GO GO GO! ” isn’t usually going to beget very fruitful conditions.
How do you pay back creative debt?
Kevan and I have talked a lot about this and how we support our creative identities while still running Bonfire. How do we both pay back any debt we’ve accrued while working in in-house roles that sapped our creativity, and how do we ensure that we’re not unthinkingly adding to our tabs again?
Since the beginning of 2026, we’ve put our money where our mouths are: Fridays are creative days. We work, but it’s not Bonfire work; it’s our personal creative projects, both of which happen to be long-form writing at the moment!
Basically, we’ve given ourselves a container with all the key ingredients:
Time: Once a week, every week, instead of just squeezing creative work into evenings or weekends—time that should be for family, friends, and restorative things!
Space: We don’t schedule meetings or deliver work to clients on Fridays. We give ourselves room from other obligations.
Safety: We discussed ahead of time what expectations are so we get all necessary work done without disappointing or overburdening each other.
Permission: We explicitly talked about structuring our business in ways that support our creative life. It’s a goal of ours, and it’s empowering to give ourselves permission to do so!
This is why the concept of a creative retreat works. It takes you out of your day-to-day and hands you the four elements above on a platter. You’re there for a dedicated amount of time, for an explicit purpose, with others in the same boat!
9 strategies for paying down creative debt
Spoiler: One of them is our new creative retreat!
If we extend the metaphor and beat it to absolute death (sorry), then the goal isn’t “be more creative”; it’s to stop borrowing from your future creative self.
Here are some ways to think about paying down creative debt:
1. Stop taking out new loans. This always comes before paying off old ones! When new conflicts with your creative projects come up, ask, “Is this something I actually want to do at the expense of my creativity?” That new framing might make it easier to say no!
2. Make interest-only payments. Maybe you don’t finish the movie or novel. Instead, you just keep the relationship alive. Write for 10 minutes a day. Practice one song. Sketch for a commercial break. Tiny acts prevent creative debt from compounding. (See: My podcast example.)
3. Consolidate your debt, or renegotiate the terms. You might very well have 27 unfinished projects. Choose one, or “renegotiate” your ambitions to make them more immediately achievable. For example:
The novel becomes short stories
The pop-up restaurant becomes monthly dinner parties
The band becomes releasing singles online
Just like financial debt consolidation, fewer or less expensive obligations make progress feel possible.
4. Evaluate what other debts you’re paying on. Sometimes paying down creative debt means deliberately giving slightly less attention to something else. What else is negotiable in your life?
5. Create automatic payments. This is my favorite metaphor! (Also, I told you we were beating it to death!) Nobody pays every bill manually anymore, so why try to pay your creative debt that way? What Kevan and I do on Fridays is a version of this. Automatic payments mean creating recurring containers: Saturday mornings, one retreat every year, monthly writing group, etc.
6. Stop calculating ROI. Creative debt grows because every creative act has to justify itself, either financially or by our other (often external or imagined) standards of success: Can I sell it? Will anyone read it? Will this become my career? The quickest way to reduce creative debt is to make something whose only purpose is to exist.
7. Pay the highest-interest debt first. Not all neglected projects weigh equally, do they? Some haunt you. Others just seem fun. Ask yourself: Which unfinished thing do I think about most often? What will I regret most if I don’t pursue it? That’s the one accruing the most psychological interest.
8. Declare bankruptcy. (Almost done torturing this metaphor!) Some creative ambitions belong to a former version of you. You don’t have to carry them forever! The goal isn’t completing every abandoned project; it’s making room for the ones feel most vital and vibrant to you NOW.
9. Make a lump-sum payment. Sometimes years of accumulated creative debt can’t be addressed in 20-minute increments. This is where we have something concrete to offer: our new creative retreat, which we’re calling The Excuse.
This is a dedicated 5 days in the French countryside just for (finally!) working on whatever it is that lights you up. Beautiful surroundings, your own private room, comfy communal spaces, a supportive environment, safe ways to share your work, and all your meals provided by a private chef.
Our past retreats were about reconnecting with your desires and motivations, both personally and professionally. And what we’ve got scheduled for 2027 is the next phase: take the first step to bring your creative ambitions to life.
We’ve got 3 different dates in 2027 on the calendar right now. Browse all the details here, and reach out at any time with questions!
Over to you…
So, what creative debt are you carrying? What’s the book, the painting practice, the podcast, the hobby, or the dream you’ve been borrowing from for years? We’d love to hear about it!
But wait! There’s more…
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