Picture everything you’ve ever wanted the cars, the life, the women, the house, the luxury vacations… the everything as it pertains to you.

Close your eyes and really picture it.

Let’s take it a step further—imagine you’re living it.

You’ve made it.

You’ve got the fame and money, and you never have to worry about going broke again.

Would you then be happy?

Would you feel fulfilled?

Would you have truly lived?

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Don’t answer the questions yet😉.

Let me tell you a story.

When I was coming up in the music scene, I was obsessed with the idea of “making it.”

I wanted a record deal so bad.

I wanted to get out of the trenches and live large.

I thought about my peers who had made it big in the industry, and I wanted to be like them.

I wanted the fame, the accolades, and the girls that came with it.

So I did what I could to be like the ones I looked up to.

I mirrored their lifestyle—and I lost myself for a while.

Partying. Womanizing. Indulging in vices🫠🫠.

But after everything, I still wasn’t “happy.”

My heart felt empty.

I couldn’t place my finger on what was missing.

I kept telling myself I’d eventually feel better.

But it never came.

Now that I’ve grown, I think I know why.

It’s because the pleasures were temporary.

They weren’t what my soul craved.

I had everything I thought I wanted and I still felt empty.

I had to go back to the basics.

Life forced me to.

I had to learn what truly filled my soul.

What made me genuinely fulfilled.

My answer wasn’t loud or alluring.

It was quiet. Almost mundane.

I felt better when I inspired someone.

When I taught a younger child.

When I helped a friend in need.

When I loved unashamedly.

When I danced without fear of judgment.

When I wasn’t performing for the crowd.

Those were the moments I was happiest.

Those were the moments I was truly free.

That’s when it hit me, fulfillment doesn’t come from what you have, it comes from who you are.

My favorite artist J. Cole said this on one track from his most recent album:

“This life is more than just racks… see, it’s the difference you make.”

I truly hope my stories make a difference to someone.

That these letters speak to creatives like me.

I don’t care for large crowds—

just one person is enough.

And the thought that my life and words could inspire someone, somewhere, is what keeps me going.

Even if I never see superstardom—knowing that people listen to my music, relate to it, and learn from it— that would be my ultimate joy.

Now back to you.

You imagined the life.

Ask yourself again, would it really be enough?

Would you be “happy”?

If your answer is no, then be honest with yourself, you’re not chasing fulfillment.

You’re chasing distraction.

Remember, you’re not behind, you’re becoming.

Have you ever tried your hardest to put out/create a body of work or a project, and at the end, it doesn’t work out?

The feeling that follows is haunting.

On such days, the voice of doubt gets loud—almost deafening—and the colors start to drain from the clouds.

Your feet are heavy, and all you can think of is how woefully you failed.

You begin to regret ever taking a step.

All you can see are the ruins of your efforts, and you begin to contemplate out loud, “Maybe this isn’t meant for me.”

Sounds familiar?

That’s the trap of failure.

Before I go further, let me state it plainly:

Failure is nothing but a teacher.

Failure teaches you way more than success ever will.

Eighty percent of the time, we’re just hurt because our ego is bruised.

If we care to look deeper and examine thoroughly, we’ll see why we failed.

Let me cite a story here.

In 2023, I wanted to put out an EP called Patient Dawg. I already had the vision and all.

It was going to be just two songs.

I wrote the songs and eventually recorded them.

After we recorded, the engineer delayed in sending me the songs. He took way over four weeks.

After that came the problem of featuring. The artiste I was featuring wasn’t readily available, and I didn’t have anyone else to do it. That on its own took over 3 to 4 months. When he eventually sent his verse, it was sublime, but by then I had spent the little money I kept for mixing and mastering.

That period was tough. I was straight broke and penniless.

And just like that, the year ended, and I couldn’t drop the project.

I began to feel like a failure. I remember asking myself, “Is it supposed to be this hard, or am I doing the wrong thing?”

I doubted myself—for a long time.

Then one day, I got on a call with my friend, who’s also my producer, and told him about my challenges.

He then told me something really simple.

He said, “Learn from the past so you can make progress in the present.”

I went back to the drawing board.

I began to ask myself questions.

Why did I fail in the first place?

Why did this and this happen?

I identified the issues one by one

“I didn’t have a budget for the songs.”

“I didn’t have a plan for them.”

“I could have partnered with someone and shared royalties.”

“I should have insisted the producer send my song immediately after the session.”

I began to see the decisions I made that caused my plans to fail.

Failure is a mirror of all your actions.

As long as someone else has done it and succeeded, you can.

But only if you find out how.

Failure shows you what you need to improve on, where you need to work on, and who you need to become.

Failure is an underrated self-development tool, I tell you.

I’m not trying to hype failure at all—I’m just saying, if you fail, then it’s a good thing.

It means you tried, and you didn’t succeed.

So try again.

And listen—failure doesn’t make you less of a creative.

If anything, it proves that you are one.

Because you tried.

You stepped out.

You risked something.

And even though it didn’t work out the way you wanted, you’re still here.

Still thinking.

Still creating.

Still becoming.

If you decide to throw in the towel, then you’ve misread failure’s message.

Failure means try again.

Remember, failure is a teacher, and you have to pass its class to move forward.

Try again gracefully.

Because na who give up naim fuck up.

Remember — you’re not behind, you’re becoming.

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Till I write to you again,

What do you see when you look at the mirror?

Some time last year, when I was going through a rut, I watched a clip where Jay-Z asked a question that stopped me in my tracks.

He said, “You got dreams and all, but the question is—how loyal are you to those dreams?”

I felt attacked.

I tried to come up with excuses—creating was expensive, no one was helping—but it didn’t help much.

Deep down, I knew I wasn’t loyal.

Someone once said, “Loyalty is an action.”

It means choosing to stay when things get difficult and uncomfortable.

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That’s why it’s rare—not everyone can endure the lows.

Most people think creativity should be easy. I won’t lie, I used to think like that too.

We believe it should be seamless and relatively calm.

That once we start creating, after two weeks or so, we’ll get our big break and become stars…

But in reality, it never really happens like that.

You have to sacrifice for this dream of yours.

You’ll have to work extra so you can save money.

You’ll lose touch with friends and loved ones.

You’ll miss holidays trying to get money—just to shoot a video that might not even blow up.

Like I always say, this work will TEST you.

It’s been four (4) years since my debut single, and some people have forgotten that I’m an artiste—but I haven’t.

I haven’t forgotten.

Even when it’s quiet.

Even when it doesn’t look like it.

Even when nothing is moving.

Loyalty entails that even when you’re down bad, you stick with the dream.

I still have dreams of performing in packed stadiums, of inspiring the younger generation to do better.

But having the dream is one thing—are you putting in the work?

I’ll say it one more time:

“Loyalty is an action.”

Are you truly loyal to your dreams, or are you just dreaming?

Remember — you’re not behind, you’re becoming.

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Happy New Month guys!

I pray this new month shows you how blessed you are as a human, and as a creative!

When we were kids, there was this game we played with our peers. They’d tie a dark cloth around your eyes and ask you to find an item (usually the prize).

I was horrible at that game. I’d grope and grope till I got frustrated and took the blindfold off.

Now that I think of it, I know why I failed all those times. It was because I was listening to the outside noise—the sneers and jeers—made by my peers, and that distracted me from winning.

Well, that’s a story for another day.

Today, I want to talk about a blindfold that most creatives voluntarily put on themselves—one that makes us grope in darkness.

The blindfold called comparison.

As Africans, we have always been compared with others since our childhood. If we weren’t the best in school, we were compared with whoever was the best.

You’ll hear phrases like, “Is it not only one head the person that took first position has?” from our parents. And while they might not mean it in a bad way, it almost always backfires.

We grow up with that feeling that we’re not doing enough if we’re not at the top.

We feel we are lagging behind when we look at another person’s results.

We enter into competition with those ahead of us when we should learn from them.

The worst is when we begin to loathe them and diminish their accomplishments because it makes us feel better about ourselves.

I’ll tell you this for a fact: comparison is such a deadly blindfold.

Just like I used to get frustrated when I couldn’t find the prize, we (creatives) will inevitably get frustrated when we compare ourselves with others—and here’s why.

Comparison makes you focus on other people’s achievements and downplay yours.

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Not everyone was born on the same level. A popular adage says, “All fingers are not the same.”

We all have different levels of access, finance, and leverage—some things come easier to others, and that’s just life.

And because you keep looking at what others have, you become blind to what you carry within you.

You start playing catch-up in another person’s game.

And you can’t win there.

You just can’t.

The second most dangerous thing comparison does is that it dishonors your gifts and talents.

And it doesn’t stop there—it affects how you speak about yourself.

I was watching a clip of Bruce Lee on someone’s status, and he said,

“Be careful what you say about yourself, even as a joke. Words are spells—that’s why it’s called spelling.”

Now before you say “hmmmm deep” and get distracted, let me break it down for you.

When you compare yourself, you say things—harsh and belittling words—like,

“I’m nothing compared to what he’s got,”

or

“My life is a mess, see how guy A is living.”

Your brain recognizes these words. And because it doesn’t know the difference between what you say as a joke, when you’re sad, or the truth, it begins to align your life with what you said.

Your life begins to become a mess.

You begin to have nothing.

It may sound crazy, but it’s been confirmed.

I don’t think anyone—creative or not—should compare themselves to another. It’s degrading and poisonous.

The human fingerprint is enough evidence that we are all different. No two people have matching fingerprints—not even twins.

Everyone has unique traits that make them different from another.

Comparison steals joy.

It limits progress.

It destroys self-esteem.

The internet can be a cause of comparison too. You go online and see people like you—creatives—with posh workspaces and fancy gadgets. And all you’ve got is a broken Android and an earphone.

It can make you discouraged.

But don’t be.

Recognize the level you’re at—whether you’re a beginner or an intermediate.

Then work towards getting better at your craft.

Because there will always be people ahead of you, and if you stop, you’ll never know how far you can go.

Honor your journey.

Know where you’re at and take steps to move forward, focusing on your strengths and innate abilities.

Have a healthy association, and you’ll eventually grow to become a master someday.

Remember — you’re not behind, you’re becoming.

Till I write to you again.

Something happened a few weeks ago. I was added to a WhatsApp group made for musicians in my city, and some producers started dropping beats for artistes to hop on.

Some artistes recorded verses and sent them back to the group. Due to my hectic schedule, I couldn't record at the time, so I stayed put.

A few days later, I carefully went through the recordings other artistes dropped, and I observed one similar trait amongst all of them—they were trying too hard to sound like mainstream artistes. I'm talking about the likes of Omah Lay, Wizkid, Serotonin, and so on.

One guy's talent shone brightly regardless, but you could tell he wasn't being real with what he was saying.

I began to think and process the whole thing.

These guys had it—the voice, the cadence, the melody—but somehow it still wasn't enough.

That was when it hit me—something about their story wasn't adding up.

The lyrics they were singing… you could tell they hadn't lived it.

They hadn't experienced it.

It lacked substance.

Lyrics like, “She wan hop inside my Benz,” but you're a broke upcoming artist—so which Benz?

“I go manya,” but you're borrowing transport money from your friend to attend lectures.

And for those who have it a bit better—as regards finance—it still feels forced because it isn't their reality.

I'll write this boldly, and I advise you to read it slowly:

YOUR STORY IS YOUR SUPERPOWER.

Your story is the sum of your experiences in life—the lessons learnt, mistakes made, wins, losses, and everything in between. It's what defines you, and in turn, what separates you from the rest.

It's so crazy when you think about it because two people could have the same experience, but their perception of the event would be totally different.

If you asked them to tell you what happened, it's almost impossible that they say the exact same thing word for word.

That's how mind-blowing this is.

So why then would you play with your biggest competitive advantage in the creative industry?

Content creators, actors, artistes, and the entire spectrum of creatives are all telling a story through different mediums.

Another point to consider is this: when you write from your story, you sound more convincing.

Your vocals pop more.

There's rawness in your sound.

People can feel it from the speakers.

The music stops being just sound—it takes shape and becomes one with the listener.

You can't lose telling your own story—ever.

I'll tell you for free: authenticity is the engine of artistic pursuits.

Some of the best songs I've written were from real-life experiences. That's why I connect with them so much.

I remember watching a YouTube video where someone talked about a paradox in making art—which is that the more personal a body of art is, the more universal it becomes.

Van Gogh painted for himself and his brother, Theo.

Picasso painted for himself and his women.

Yet these men’s paintings inspired generations of painters.

Take it from me, trying to be like Wizkid or Burna Boy will only lead to frustration and disappointment.🫠🫠

You have your own story—tell it.

I'll say it again:

Your story is your superpower.

Tell it your way—there's no right or wrong way, for real.

Your story shows how dynamic you are.

It not only teaches the listener but inspires them as well.

Your story should be infused in your lyrics and style.

It's okay if you don't do regular/mainstream music.

It's completely fine if you don't bounce on regular beats.

I'll leave you with this quote my friend Becca frequently posts on her wall. It says:

"Be bold or italic, but never regular."

Remember — you are not behind, you’re becoming.

Till I write to you again

Song recommendation as you read this: James Arthur — Remember Who I Was

It’s 12:37 a.m. on a Sunday morning. As I write this, I’m listening to Make You Feel My Love by An Endless Ocean. His vocals are smooth like butter—they’re so velvety.

Before that, I watched a video on TikTok (yes, I finally visited that app 😂), and I stumbled on a video of Benny Blanco making music with Ed Sheeran.

The melody, the lyrics, the setting/ambience—literally everything about it just reinforced this deep desire in me.

I’m reminded of how much I love this gift. This gift of music.

For a long time, I felt something was wrong with me because I didn’t see the world the way others saw it.

I remember a conversation I had a few years ago with a friend of mine.

He asked me, “Guy, na only music you wan do? I know say you like music, but as money no dey come now, do something else na.”

I was faced with a harsh reality. Music, as we all know, is quite expensive—and I was broke. Very broke.

I couldn’t afford to buy data consistently for myself.

At 24 years of age, I had never made 500k for myself.🫠🫠

I felt like a loser.

I knew something needed to change, so I began finding solutions.

A year passed quickly, and within that time I was able to start my business. Even though it’s still a small-scale business, it helps keep me afloat.

The proceeds help to solve my basic needs.

But the biggest challenge remains: I haven’t dropped any song in almost four years.

Occasionally, I write a song or two, but it’s not close to consistent—not like someone who claims to be an artist.

And the worst part of it is, all my excuses are valid. I’m very occupied most of the day, and I’m left with little to no time to relax.

It’s been bothering my mind… I feel like I’ve switched sides.

I’ve chosen to chase money and sustenance. I let the hustle and bustle of this world steal my spark, and now I’m struggling to believe who I am.

Music, for me, is more than a performance. It’s the way I interpret my world. It’s the way I cope with my experiences. Recently, I discovered it’s also a way I can teach.

It’s a way of life.

This begs the question:

What is a musician who doesn’t make music?

I think I know the answer to that, but I can’t bring myself to say it here.

I don’t want to.

My bosom friend, Guddum, asked me last year why I wasn’t making music, and I told him, “Bro, it’s because I don’t have money.”

His reply took me back.

He said, “But when you were starting, you didn’t need money. You were worse off than you are now, but you still managed to make music.”

I didn’t get what he meant then, but I get it now.

As humans, we’ll always be in search of something—more money, more fame, more accolades.

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But what remains is what grounds us.

Music grounds me.

So I’m making a conscious decision to return back to my roots.

Before I became distracted by the cares of this world.

Before I became aware of the hardships that face creatives.

Before I became “an adult.”

I’m returning to when I was free to create—like a child.

And I’m not worried about making a perfect song or writing the best verse.

Even if it’s just one line a day or one melody a day—it’s something.

I remember who I was, and I’m going back to that version of me.

I don’t have it all figured out. I still have a long way to go, but I will make sure I don’t lose myself again.

Remember — you are not behind, you’re becoming.

Till I write to you again

Oh the joy of being a creative…

I'll see you in the next letter!

Waiting kills momentum!

Waiting kills momentum!!

Waiting kills momentum!!!

I'm spazzing as I write this because I see the pattern come alive in my life again. That deadly hydra-headed dragon called procrastination.

How did I let it happen again?

Here's my story, again (yes I love telling ‘em and you love reading so…)

Early this year I had an idea to write about my creative journey—as epileptic as it has been—and share it with the world, in a bid to help younger African creatives.

I started out well. I announced it on my WhatsApp status, got volunteers, and created a group.

In my head I thought it was going to be seamless.

What a lie I told myself 😂.

The hurdles unfurled themselves one after the other.

I wrote the introduction, then the first issue, and forwarded it to the editor. She stalled on it but eventually delivered. It was time for the second.

I wanted fliers and good graphic designs.

With the limited resources on ground, I delegated responsibilities.

From one delay to another.

"Omo the thing con tire me sef."

At some point I almost called it quits.

Then came my knight in shining armor—my very resourceful personal assistant—Ada

She told me plainly that I tried to grow what wasn't even planted. I was trying to do it on a large scale when I hadn't even started.

In her words: "Start small and build."

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So we got to working.

We made a deal.

I'd write and send it to her to assess and store.

At least momentum was being gained again.

Life happened a few times—I fell ill, my mom took ill too—but it didn't stop us.

She'd hound me for those materials. Literally!

After a while she told me:

"Kxhtel, you need to go on Substack. Your people are waiting for you there."

I reluctantly agreed and said, "Alright, let's see where it's headed."

In my mind though, I was scared.

Not scared of what people would say.

But scared of taking up more responsibility.

I'm no stranger to responsibility. I know how tasking it can be. People start expecting you to have all the answers even when you're still figuring out your own stuff.

I didn't tell Ada this. I just kept postponing.

At some point I created the Substack account, then I abandoned it again.

"I don't have time" became my favorite excuse.

Today she sent me a link, and the same idea that God put in my mind…

Another person had started implementing it.

My stomach turned.

There was no one to blame except me.

This was a new lesson, added to the plethora of lessons I've been through.

EXECUTION IS WHAT SEPARATES IDEAS FROM REALITIES.

Would I still launch Dear CREATIVE?

Of course I will.

In fact, I'm starting now.

With poor graphics and a low battery.

With low images and just one person who believes in this dream.

But I'm starting anyway.

Just like I started my business and figured it out along the way, I'll do the same with this.

Who knows what would come out of it?

This wasn't what I planned to write on, but my creative juices chose this route, and I just obliged.

Remember, procrastination shows up in different ways. In your case it may be disguised as planning, or even waiting for a better device.

Whoever is not faithful in little can't be trusted with much.

Not my words.

P.S. If you haven't learnt anything from this letter, you need to visit a pastor 😂.

A subtle reminder: You're not behind—you're becoming.

Till I write to you again😉,

Thanks for subscribing and reading my letters. I know it's helping a creative out there. Perfection ain't the goal, just start and keep on going!

“Start small, build later!”

Next issu drops on Monday!!

Some days I don’t feel like creating.

I feel numb. Indifferent.

And it’s hard to force it. Really hard.

I know I’m not alone in that. I’ve watched people around me go through

Thanks for reading my stack!

the same cycle. Some people on the internet call it “creative burnout.”

That’s just a fancy way of saying you’re drained.

But the real question is this:

How do we keep going when we don’t feel like it?

How do we continue creating when the motivation is gone?

I’ll tell you this for free — if you always wait until you’re motivated to create, you probably won’t create anything worthwhile.😏

Especially where we are.

The country alone can drain you.🫠🫠

Poor power supply.

Lack of basic amenities.

Saving up for months just to afford a tripod and a ring light.

Skipping meals to buy a camera.

That’s not aesthetic struggle. That’s real life. The Nigerian life.

Nigerians have it tough. But we still carry a higher calling — to create, just as we were created to.

So how do we do that?

It’s worth mentioning that motivation can only take you so far. At some point, you’ll need more than Instagram reels and morning affirmations. This work will test you. Hard. Repeatedly.

You’ll need consistency.

Consistency is doing the thing you said you would do — continuously — even when you don’t feel good about it. Even when you’re tired of it. Even when it feels like it’s not paying off.

You still do it.

I love Nike’s slogan because it captures this perfectly:

JUST DO IT.

On good days.

On bad days.

On sick days.

Because what is a creative who doesn’t create?

What is a chair maker who doesn’t make chairs?

The work fulfills us. It stretches us. It builds us.

Does that make it easy?

Hell naw.

If anything, it gets more demanding as you grow. But you wouldn’t have it any other way — because it’s work you love.

Consistency is what turns students into masters. The long practice hours. The repeated drafts. The unseen sacrifices. The many “no’s.”

They compound.

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Look at Chris Brown. He entered the spotlight as a teenager. Nearly 25 years later, he’s still releasing music — and still evolving. As I write this, I'm listening to "Residuals" from his most recent album. And it's mind-boggling that he's actually getting better every day.

That's what consistency does. It sets you apart. Eleven albums and counting, Chris Brown is undoubtedly a class apart from his peers.

None can touch his pedestal.

That kind of longevity doesn’t happen by accident.

That’s consistency.

Do you want to be remembered for your work?

Then you must be consistent with it.

As I write this to you, I’m also writing it to myself.

Motivation is a feeling.

Consistency is a decision. Your decision.

You don’t rise to inspiration.

You rise to your systems.

You can build even when you don’t feel brilliant.

Set up systems that help you create. Even if it’s one line a day. One paragraph. One melody. Over time, you’ll outpace the person who keeps waiting to “feel ready.”

I think this topic deserves a Part II — where I’ll share how I stopped waiting for motivation, and the practical shifts that helped me move anyway.

But for now…

Remember — you are not behind, you’re becoming.

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Till I write to you again.

It's the fifth one y'all!! Thanks for riding with me!

Tell me what has stayed with you from today's issue?

Next one dropping soon… consistency over motivation am I right?

Kindly share here👇🏾👇🏾👇🏾

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There’s a quiet lie that follows creatives around.

“Not now.”

“Soon.”

“When things settle.”

Almost every creative I know has wrestled with it.

And lately, it’s been pressed on my heart to write about it.

In these letters, my aim isn’t to write like I know it all — far from it. I simply want to offer lived reflection from the middle: telling my truth, showing my scars, documenting my journey as I go.

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So let me share a story.

In December 2022, I dropped my debut single, Majo. It was met with applause. I had some features, and even though I delivered, there was always a gap. A space that only my personal projects — my own body of work — could fill.

Majo was launching me into the entertainment scene as an artist. My people even started calling me a “serious artist” 😂.

The plan was simple: follow up with an EP two months later.

Two months turned into six.

Six months turned into two years.

Now, almost four years later, that EP is still unreleased.

Yes, there were battles — scarce funds, inconsistent mixing engineers, unsupportive friends and family. But beneath all of that, at the very bottom, was one truth:

I was waiting for the perfect time.

And that waiting robbed me of time.

Because time waits for no one — so how can you wait for time?

The same thing would happen with music covers and other ideas. I’d sit on them for too long, waiting for a sign. Waiting for alignment. Waiting for readiness. Until I slowly started resenting what I once loved.

It brought frustration. And regret.

Two days ago, I was speaking with a close friend about a new goal he was pursuing. While explaining it, he mentioned waiting for the perfect time to start.

Immediately, I saw myself in him.

So I told him what I’ve learned the hard way:

Waiting kills momentum.

There is no such thing as the perfect time. It’s an illusion.

As creatives, we’ve been given the ability to see solutions in imperfect situations. That means the “perfect time” is often when things look most imperfect — because that’s when creativity is required.

That’s when you’re forced to think differently.

To adapt.

To innovate.

If that isn’t creativity, I don’t know what is.

I’m not writing this just to tell my story. I’m writing so that you can recognize the pattern early — and avoid the mistakes I made.

Of course, I’ll still release the EP.

But I’ll never be the same person I was four years ago. And that version of me—I can’t get him back.

So don’t wait for the perfect time.

Don’t hesitate on your ideas.

Work on them as you are. Execute imperfectly if you must.

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No matter how grand or impossible something seems — if it has been done before, it can be done again.

Remember — you are not behind, you’re becoming.

Till I write to you again.

Thank you for reading today my fellow creative!!

I would be more intentional about dropping more letters for you!

Amd if you're new around this corner of Substack drop a hi in the comments!

Cheers to becoming…

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Some didn’t care.

Some even hated it.

How did that make you feel?

I’ve been there. Let me tell you a story.

Back in 2022, when I was still discovering myself and working through my creativity, I started writing songs about purpose and the pressure I felt as a young Black man. I poured myself into those songs and shared them with my friends. Their response broke me.

One comment, in particular, stayed with me.

He said, “You’re too boring. I don’t think I’d listen if I wasn’t your friend.”

At the time, I didn’t receive it as constructive criticism. I received it as discouragement. And it burst my bubble for a while.

So I tried to write what was trending — girls, booze, sex, the usual formulas. But it didn’t feel like me. It felt forced.

It felt like a photocopy.

In the previous letter, I wrote about finding your path and refusing to be a copy. One of the consequences of finding your path is this: you lose touch with people who aren’t on your wavelength.

They don’t understand your work, so they don’t see its value.

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Cristiano Ronaldo is one of the greatest footballers of all time — and people still hate him. Some even have reasons they believe are justified. Excellence doesn’t guarantee acceptance.

What I’m about to say may sound cliché, but it’s what I live by now:

If you like what you created, and it feels good to you, then it is good — regardless of what anyone else says.

From the very first Creator — God — we see this principle. After creating the world, He looked at it and saw that it was good. He didn’t ask for opinions. He didn’t seek validation.

He saw it.

And it pleased Him.

Why then do you, who are made in the image of the Creator, place your gift at the mercy of other people’s approval?

Create to satisfy your mind..

Push yourself to your limits — and even beyond — not to impress anyone, but to experience becoming.

These days, when I get a song idea, I scribble the words and hum the melody immediately. I don’t ask if it makes sense. I don’t seek permission. I just write.

The confirmation I need comes from my gut.

That quiet tingling after a line lands.

That warmth when a melody clicks.

Sometimes I catch myself smiling like a teenager in love — and it’s because I love this craft. I love writing songs. I love turning emotions into melodies. I love performing on stage.

So why would I let anyone else decide what’s good enough for me?

Of course, listen to veterans who’ve walked the path you’re on. Learn from them. But never at the expense of your intuition. Your intuition is a gift from the Creator — meant to work with wisdom, not be silenced by it.

As you leave this letter, remember this:

If it’s good enough for you, then it’s good enough.

God saw that it was good.

He didn’t ask.

He saw.

And as long as you see it as good —

it is.

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Remember — you are not behind, you’re becoming.

Till I write to you again.

Hey, thank you for reading! Kindly pass on to a creative like you!

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And that’s totally normal.

One of the quiet perks of being a creative is that we’re constantly probing ourselves—asking questions, sitting with discomfort, searching for answers.

In our previous letter, I spoke about what it means to be a creative, and the responsibility we carry: to bring forth—to make something.

One of the biggest limitations we face, though, is not knowing which path to tread. Everywhere we turn, we hear content screaming: find your path, lock in, create.

But no one really tells us how to find that path.

So we wander.

We experiment.

We live in trial and error for far longer than we expected.

My intention with this letter isn’t to sound like I’ve figured it all out. I don’t have all the answers. What I’m offering instead is lived reflection—from the middle. And I truly hope it helps someone out there.

So I’ll share a story—my story—with you.

When I first started out in the music scene, I was filled with passion and zeal. I wrote to any and every instrumental I could lay my hands on. I filled pages with rhymes and raps. I wrote out lyrics from songs I loved and memorized them.

I wanted to be like my idols—J. Cole and Chris Brown.

I grew up listening to American pop and rap, so I didn’t give much thought to Nigerian Afrobeats. I stayed on top of trends because I believed that if I sounded like what was in demand, I would be in demand.

So when Desiigner dropped Panda, I learned how to sound like him.

Then came the trap era—Future, Roddy Ricch—and I quickly learned their lingua.

People applauded. They serenaded me with approval.

But deep down, I knew the truth.

I was nothing more than a photocopy.

I wasn’t an original.

And it bothered me.

I stayed on that route for a long time—until a few years ago, when I decided to ask myself some difficult questions.

Why do I want to make it big in music?

Is it for fame and money?

Or is it to leave a lasting legacy—to impact lives?

I didn’t stop there.

I asked myself:

What are my core values—the things I hold dear?

What do I truly want to be remembered for?

I sat with these questions for weeks.

And slowly, the answers came.

That was when my path became clear.

I’m meant to inspire hope.

To motivate the fallen.

To help people reconnect and love truly.

And music—music is just the medium.

I remember a conversation I had with my producer many years ago about trying to “find my sound.” He laughed and told me something that sounded painfully cliché at the time:

“Find yourself, and your sound will come.”

Looking back now, that’s probably the best advice I’ve ever received about finding your path.

So don’t go searching endlessly for your path—you might never find it.

Instead, find yourself.

Find your quirks.

Your values.

Your motives.

Your goals.

And your path will reveal itself.

One of the most beautiful things about finding your path is that confidence follows. There’s no competition. No comparison.

You’re only competing with who you were yesterday.

I’ll leave you with this:

The path less traveled is often the most rewarding one.

Don’t follow the crowd.

Find yourself—and your path will appear.

Remember — you are not behind, you’re becoming.

Till I write to you again.

Hey, thank you for reading! Kindly pass on to a creative like you!

Every issue drops Mondays and Saturdays so stayed locked in! I'll see you on Monday!

And yeah, Happy Easter!! The One True King is Risen 👑✨✨

Never Be Afraid To Dream!!

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In today’s world, many words are tossed around loosely—and often misunderstood. One of those words is “creative.” To truly do justice to this topic, we must return to the origin of the word and what it originally meant before language began to distort its meaning.

The word creative comes from the Latin “creare”, meaning to make, create, or bring forth. At its core, creativity is about bringing something into existence—something that wasn’t seen, known, or imagined before. Put simply, creativity is the act of making.

So, who is a creative?

A creative is anyone who makes, builds, solves, or brings something forth.

For a long time, we’ve confined creativity to artsy expressions alone—painting, singing, dancing. If you don’t paint, you’re not a creative. If you don’t sing like Beyoncé or Wizkid, you don’t qualify.

But when we return to the original meaning of the word, it becomes clear: we are all creatives.

Some people are problem-solvers. They identify solutions no one else sees and implement them—that is creativity. Some are business-oriented. They recognize gaps in society and build services to fill them—that is creativity. Scientists are creatives too; they develop ideas and innovations that advance the human experience.

In essence, creativity exists in all of us. We were created by the Creator, and He deposited these creative traits within us so we can live out our full potential.

Yet, it is heartbreaking to see the young Black creative trapped in a cycle of consumption. Africa has increasingly become a dumping ground for fleeting trends and external ideas. Social media platforms like TikTok and Instagram constantly compete for the attention of young African creatives, leaving them with little time to discover themselves or create intentionally.

This is what Dear Creative is about.

This letter exists for a time like this—an intimate conversation with the creative boy or girl. A reminder of who they are, what they stand for, and what they should be doing instead of merely consuming.

Creativity is a sacred calling, reserved for the best of creation.

Use your gift with intention.

I’ll see you in the next letter.

With love ✨

The African Kxhtel

Dear creative is an intimate letter written to creatives by a creative.

Being a Creative in Nigeria has to be one of the hardest career choices one can make. Because of this lots of people lose their way and eventually drop creativity to face "more serious" life paths.

But creativity isn't a fancy hobby or artsy detour

It's a way of Life.

It's a sacred calling reserved for only the best of creation.

Dear Creative is a quiet conversation.

It's not advice from the finish line.

It's lived reflection from the middle.

Here we write about the things we're rarely prepared for:

The insecurities we don't post

The fears buried deep inside

The audacity we're still learning

The permission we keep giving away

And the slow uncomfortable work of finding ourselves while moving forward anyway.

Dear creative is a documentation, not a performance.

It's Honest. Raw. Real. Present and most importantly, a place to experience BECOMING

Welcome to the fold.

With Love

A creative who is still on his journey

The African Kxhtel ✨