In this week’s letter: Why I am renaming this space, and how creativity gave me a way back to myself this year. *
I’m a big fan of setting intentions, and I have been ever since I started taking yoga classes years ago. It’s a mindset practice that works no matter the setting.
Before a big presentation. A new season of life. A project kickoff. A dinner party with friends.
I do it so often now that I truly believe I’d be hard pressed to get anywhere meaningful without one.
And every New Year’s Eve, I return to the same ritual. Instead of setting a long list of resolutions for the year ahead, I choose a single word as my intention.
Over time, that word will become a lens I can use to navigate new spaces, opportunities, and challenges.
A kind of North Star, keeping me focused on what really matters to me.
When things feel noisy or unclear, when I feel frustrated or stressed, or disconnected from myself and the things I love and value, it’s often because I’ve drifted away from that intention.
I’ve broken a promise to myself.
That intention becomes something steady I can return to. A reminder of my why, whenever I need it most.
That practice is part of what first led me here.
When I started writing Red Letter Day in mid-2024, it was because I needed a space to be creative outside of my professional work.
Somewhere to explore what felt meaningful to me. A space beyond deadlines and deliverables, where I could hone my own voice and perspective and make the things that I wanted to share with others, or simply express for myself.
Even though I was a high performer on paper, most days didn’t light me up. I was doing well, but I wasn’t always feeling well, caught in a feedback loop of burnout that many of you are familiar with as well.
Red Letter Day became a place where I could name and explore that gap. Where I could start asking better questions about what actually makes my life feel good on the inside, not just look successful on the outside.
Many of you reached out to share how exploring those questions helped you, too. And you joined me in asking the same things:
How do I do great work in the world and still make time for what I value most? 💭
How do I communicate my value while staying true to my values 💡
How do I find space to explore what truly matters to me? 🎨
And in 2025, my own answer to those questions started revealing itself slowly.
Over the past year, one theme kept returning:
For 2025, my word of the year was Creativity.
And because I finally gave myself permission to explore that creativity unabashedly, to color outside the lines, my life looks, and feels, very different than it did at the beginning of the year.
This year has been one of the most transformative of my life. Moving from D.C. to North Carolina. Traveling more often for creative opportunities, both personal and professional. Being invited onto industry stages to talk about intentional creativity and media at scale.
And guess what? This year held more Red Letter Days than any year before it.
Claiming creativity gave me permission to show up more fully as myself. I can see now how deeply that shift shaped my life.
It also changed how I think about this space, and what I want it to offer to others who might feel similarly boxed in. Or hesitant to claim a word like creativity for themselves.
Starting today, I’m renaming this newsletter Creative Code.
The name reflects the approach I’ve been exploring here. A way of building sustainable, everyday creativity into life and work. The URL is still katiekonans.substack.com, so nothing about your subscription changes.
You’ll still receive weekly letters with a mix of creativity, curiosity, media, and whatever else I’ve been mulling over or trying out.
But the name and the focus are evolving, and I want to share why.
Creativity has always mattered deeply to me. As a kid, it was how I imagined other worlds. Through writing. Painting. Drawing.
Over time, like many people, I tucked parts of that away. Even though I use creativity every day as a professional, and feel incredibly lucky to do work that draws on it constantly, somewhere along the way I stopped thinking of it as something personal.
Ironically, in my professional life, I now work alongside some of the most inspiring minds in science, human spaceflight, and communication. Artists. Builders. People who are curious, rigorous, and deeply imaginative.
And still, for so long, it felt strange to call myself “a creative.”
I know I’m not alone in that. In a moment where AI-powered tools are expanding who gets to make and express ideas, there is also a surprising amount of gatekeeping around what counts as creativity, and who gets to claim it.
In 2025, I chose the word anyway.
I took a pottery class and noticed how calm my brain felt when my hands were busy. I decorated my office in bright colors and typography because it lit me up. I started adding art supplies back into my journaling routine, the way I used to in college. I puttered around the house rearranging furniture until I felt inspired in a space.
Creativity came to mean flexibility. Resourcefulness. Saying yes to opportunities that felt energizing, (including an invitation to join the IADAS Webby Judging Academy, which I am still pinching myself over!)
It became a way of training my brain to see possibility. To ask “what if?” and to stay with that question long enough to find out.
2025 became my year of creativity.
What I’ve learned is that intentions work best when they’re flexible and the meaning behind them can evolve. The word stays steady, even as its expression changes.
What unlocked creativity for me wasn’t trying harder or waiting for perfect conditions. It was loosening my grip.
I stopped thinking in rigid, black-and-white terms. I let myself sit in uncertainty. I followed curiosity instead of questioning it.
My year of creativity revealed something that made me feel uncomfortable. I had been reserving it for public spaces and professional output, not for myself. I was doing meaningful work every day, but very little of it felt personal.
Creativity was something I had to start practicing again.
And through that practice, over time, I started to learn that creativity belongs everywhere in my world.
As resourcefulness. A way of thinking, of problem-solving. A way of seeing possibilities instead of letting myself be limited to one outcome. A way of connecting to others, and expressing what matters to me.
The idea that productivity lives in one box and creativity in another is simply not true.
Even now, though creativity is part of my work every day, it can still feel strange to claim the label. There’s a persistent idea that being “creative” requires a studio, total independence, or days spent surrounded by art supplies.
But creativity doesn’t come from outside validation or aesthetics. It’s a way of seeing the world, based in curiosity, flexibility, and possibility.
In 2026, I’m doubling down on creativity, and with Creative Code, I’m inviting you to come with me.
This space will continue to hold reflections on intentionality and balance, because those practices matter deeply to me. They’re also the same tools that have helped me build work that feels energizing and sustainable.
But the personal and the professional aren’t separate.
This year, this space is about integrating those realities. Exploring how creativity actually functions in everyday life, not just in theory.
Because creativity isn’t reserved for a select few.
It’s something anyone can practice.
As you look ahead to the year to come, what’s one small creative habit or way of thinking you want to bring with you? I hope this season gives you a bit of space to reflect.
Thank you for being here. I don’t take it lightly that you spend time reading these letters.
If this piece resonated, you can support Creative Code by liking the post, leaving a comment, or sharing it with someone who might enjoy it. That kind of word-of-mouth support means more than you know.
I share more creative ideas and Red Letter Days over on Instagram, and if you’re interested in collaborating or working together, you’re always welcome to reach out at katiekonans@gmail.com
