Is cringe culture killing your creative career?

Have you ever finished a piece of work you're genuinely proud of, then talked yourself out of sharing it? You're in very good company. We creatives are notoriously bad at self-promotion. The reasons can be personal and complex, but the results are clear-cut. Good work goes unseen, opportunities are missed, and less talented but louder voices fill the space instead.

So is any of this actually necessary? Or has cringe culture become a habit that's costing you more than you realise? We chatted to three creatives who share their honest experiences of self-promotion, confidence and the oft-painful process of bigging up your own work.

Why it feels so hard

Jason Roberts, designer and illustrator at Victory Over All, has been wrestling with this for years. "Up until recently, I've felt like a bit of a newbie in the design industry," he says. "Which is ridiculous, because I've been designing since my mid-teens, working professionally since 2010 and running my own design business for the past 10 years. Still, though, I question why anyone would want to listen to what I have to say, or value the experience I have."

Impostor syndrome is part of it, but not all of it. Take Carole Chevalier, designer and published illustrator at carolechevalier.co.uk. "There's a part of me that feels, or perhaps hopes, that my work should speak for itself," she admits. "What I create is my way of expressing myself. So it feels very hard and tiring to have to do more, just so people can appreciate it, or even discover it."

Artist and founder Sheena Bulpitt frames it as a fear of becoming indistinguishable from the noise. "There are so many people out there, all trying to get eyes on their work, that any attempt at self-promotion feels like it has an element of cringe; like you're the same as everyone else vying for attention," she concedes. "But it's a necessary evil."

The suckiness of making videos

Necessary, maybe, but that doesn't always make it pleasurable. Especially when it comes to serving the modern god of short-form video.

"Talking to the camera with a mic in my hand for Instagram reels feels cringe to me," says Jason. "It's a love/hate relationship. I want to do it, I like video editing, and I know it helps my business. But, oh boy, do I cringe when watching back the footage or hitting that post button."

Carole shares the same discomfort, and as a French speaker working in English, the fear goes deeper. "I was so anxious about people judging me," she says. "English is not my first language, so I felt very vulnerable."

Consequently, her approach has been to build exposure gradually: first appearing briefly on camera, then adding a voiceover. She's currently working up to speaking directly to the camera. "The problem is, this process is very slow, and in the meantime, many other creatives with less experience have gone way further."

What you lose when you hold back

The natural response to all of this stress, of course, is to bury your head in the sand. But in practice, that probably won't end well.

"I recently held back from sharing a rebrand for a TV channel, and I massively regretted it," recalls Jason. "I was incredibly proud of the work, but kept telling myself there were other, more important tasks than putting together a case study. Then the TV channel was shut down, following a corporate merger and budget cuts. So I missed out on the buzz around the channel’s rebrand, along with any visibility that would have brought."

Carole points to the inherent absurdity here. "It's ridiculous not to promote yourself as an expert in your field, because everybody else does it," she reasons. "Take an electrician: it's in their interest to show that they're the best at what they do. Or a baker: if they win an award for their bread, of course, they're going to put it everywhere in their shop to bring more customers. Nobody will turn around and say they're bragging too much. So why are creatives so uncomfortable doing the same?"

From Sheena's perspective, it's often about the fear of being judged. Yet in practice, those fears are rarely well-founded. "Once I started sharing my work, I was surprised by how interested and supportive people were," she says. "That makes me hesitate a lot less now."

How to get past the discomfort

At the end of the day, confidence—like any creative skill—is built through practice and repetition. Jason's advice is straightforward: "Don't be shy about showing off your work or talking about the success it has brought. Not in an arrogant 'my design skills are the best' kind of way, but in a way that helps people understand the value you bring. How has it helped others? What's the story behind it? Why did you make certain decisions?

"We're all awkward and nervous at first," he adds. "But the more often you do something, the better you get. So just start showing off that work, start talking to people about it, and you'll soon find your flow."

Sheena adds: "Take some time to distil what you are about and what you do. It can help to practise with people you know, ask for feedback and focus on the value you offer."

Ultimately, one thing is clear. Staying quiet and hoping someone notices isn't a strategy: it's a habit. And if this discussion is anything to go by, it's costing you more than you think.