Should Creatives Have a Plan B?

1. The Creative Dilemma

Throughout my career I’ve been torn between two voices.

One says, “If you want to make it as an actor or filmmaker, you have to go all in.” The other whispers, “Don’t lose yourself chasing something uncertain. Build a backup. Create space to breathe.”

Which one is right?

Today’s culture glorifies the specialist — the person who devotes decades to mastering one skill. Think of Mozart, Nikola Tesla, or even a YouTuber like MrBeast. Their genius and devotion are mesmerizing.

But what if there’s a more balanced, saner way to approach a creative career — one built on calmness and sustainability rather than sacrifice?

I’ve been building my career from my early twenties into my thirties. And if there’s one topic I wish I’d had more guidance on, it’s this one:

Does having a Plan B kill your chances of achieving greatness?

2. The Hustle Culture Lie

I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve heard:

“Having a Plan B is setting yourself up for failure.”

On the surface, it sounds logical: if you invest energy in Plan B, you’re stealing it from Plan A.

But what if Plan B doesn’t have to mean failure? What if it could be a supporting structure that actually sustains Plan A?

This “all-or-nothing” mindset grows out of the myth of the suffering artist. The belief that real art demands poverty, isolation, and self-destruction. Think of Van Gogh, Kafka, Hemingway. Their lives make great drama, but they’re terrible models for sustainability.

In Creativity: Flow and the Psychology of Discovery and Invention (1996), Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi found that long-term creative output comes from positive emotion, recovery, and intrinsic motivation — not exhaustion. It turns out that rest is part of the work.

That matches what I’ve seen firsthand. The working creatives I know who actually thrive — those with real opportunities and consistent work — are usually healthy, grounded, and connected.

It’s just that no one writes biopics about happy people.

3. What True Focus Actually Looks Like

The Swedish producer Kleerup once shared how, early in his career, he refused to learn any instrument besides drums because that was his childhood dream. An older musician told him, “So you’re pursuing the dream of a child.”

That line hit him — and me — hard.

Real focus isn’t about isolation, or holding on to a promise youve mad to yourself. And carry that like a heavy bag through life.

It’s about integration.

As we grow, our interests and skills should expand naturally. That’s not betrayal; that’s evolution.

After film school I worked in videography. At first, I felt like a fraud — shooting corporate videos instead of films. But that experience turned out to be essential training. Asking “Where should I place the camera?” over and over refined my visual instincts when I returned to filmmaking.

I’m a fan of pursuing related fields that sharpen your craft and pay the bills. But there’s a risk: staying too long in something close enough.

I’ve met filmmakers who dreamed of directing features. But got stuck making commercials for a decade. Musicians who ended up writing jingles for slot machines.

Takeaway:

If too much of your time goes to Plan B, it quietly becomes Plan A.

Focus doesn’t mean narrowing your world; it means deepening your ecosystem.

4. Plan B or Power Base?

So, do you need a Plan B?

Yes — but only one that supports Plan A.

A healthy Plan B is a stabilising structure, not a detour. It carries you through low seasons and protects you from panic. When you have that structure, the dry spells don’t hit as hard.

As you grow older, it helps you maintain your dignity and standard of living. You can take a vacation, invest in your craft, and still feel grounded — just like your friends in nine-to-five jobs.

For actors especially, ownership is everything. Make your own short films. Start a theatre group. Build something that’s yours. The act of creating your own platform shields you from rejection fatigue and keeps your sense of agency alive.

A Plan B doesn’t replace your dream — it protects your ability to keep dreaming.

A Plan B doesn’t dilute ambition — it gives ambition a longer lifespan.

5. How Successful Creatives Manage Focus

I started my freelance acting career around 2010. Patience has been my biggest asset. Because the road has been long, very long.

I’m grateful I never switched careers — but I’m equally glad I built parallel skills that kept me within the creative ecosystem.

Today, I perform on some of the biggest stages in Sweden. I might perform in Helsinki next year. I audition regularly for major roles, and this summer I signed with my first agent. My filmmaking career is growing quietly alongside my acting work.

During my off-months — usually three to four each year — I do voice acting, write this blog, and occasionally take on digital marketing clients.

The digital work I’ve done on my own site taught me SEO, web design, and content strategy, which now provide freelance income.

You could call that “outside my lane,” but compared to waiting tables or working shifts unrelated to art, it offers flexibility and freedom.

And today, digital fluency is part of artistry.

Creators like Bo Burnham (YouTube → Netflix → film), Emma Chamberlain (YouTube → media brand → fashion), Donald Glover (stand-up → music → film & TV), and Greta Gerwig (indie actor → writer → Oscar-nominated director) all built careers by combining storytelling, self-production, and modern platforms.

Learning to market and distribute your own work isn’t selling out — it’s survival. Monetising those skills later becomes a valuable asset.

6. The Discipline of Output

If there’s one truth I’ve learned, it’s this: your output is what matters.

Not your dreams, not your talk, not your plans — your actual work.

So when you design a supporting Plan B, make sure it leaves room for consistent creative output.

Here are the principles that keep me on track:

• Primary identity: know what you want to be known for.
• Secondary stability channels: build income that reinforces, not distracts.
• Output discipline: quantity precedes quality.
• Work in cycles: deep focus followed by real rest.
• Coherent direction: pivot if needed, but always know where you’re heading.

Ask yourself: Are you currently spending your time immersed in your craft — or in the idea of doing so?

7. Building Your Creative Ecosystem

All the ideas in the world mean nothing without structure. Without a system, creative energy turns into chaos and eventually evaporates.

Here’s how my ecosystem is organised:

• studiorajala.com — client work that funds my creative projects and keeps me afloat during dry seasons.
• simonrajala.com — a space to reflect on creativity and the business side of thing. and eventually host courses and affiliate partnerships.

• 2026: my upcoming film company, a home for my own stories.

Think of it like this:

• Core: your main creative identity.

• Orbit: supporting skills, projects, and income streams.

When everything you do connects to your creative core, nothing you do is wasted — and that’s when you realise: there was never a Plan B.

8. Be the Poet with a Motor

In the end, you don’t have to choose between focus and freedom. Structure isn’t limitation — it’s liberation.

I don’t want to be the artist who burned out trying to prove commitment.

I’d rather be the poet with a motor — deeply focused, but healthy enough to keep creating.