The Accountant and The Artist
There is a paradox at the heart of the creative industry. The world’s most imaginative people, those who conjure entire worlds from a blank page, often have the most constricted view of their own financial worth.
They can envision a new brand, a new film, a new future. But they cannot envision a reality where they are paid exceptionally well for it.
Chris Do, founder of The Futur, confronts this daily. “I love to make money but I hate accounting,” he admits. His strategy? “Make so much money and have so much profit margin it won’t even matter.” He calls it the “fire hose strategy,” an approach that makes friction disappear simply by overwhelming it with capital.
But this isn’t a solution for most. It’s a workaround. The root cause remains: a deep, often unconscious, discomfort with money. To dissect this, Do sat down with Paco de Leon, a finance expert who, unexpectedly, understands the creative dilemma better than most.
De Leon is a first-generation American who fell into finance not out of passion, but practicality. “I saw working class people and middle class people,” she recalls. “It was like, if you were serious and you wanted to make money, you became a doctor.” Unwilling to deal with blood and extra schooling, she surveyed her options. “These people doing finance…they don’t seem that smart and they seem to wear nice suits.”
It was a safety net. A way to be a professional adult while she played in her band and pursued her real interests. She found she had a high tolerance for boredom and pain, which served her well in the financial world. Yet, she felt a pull. “I bet you there’s a bunch of really interesting, cool, creative people who are doing really fascinating things in the world and they need help with their money.”
That realization led her to build a practice dedicated to artists and creative agencies, translating the language of finance for those who, like Do, would rather be doing anything else. It also led her to write her book, Finance for the People.
Ironically, Do’s own journey could have mirrored de Leon’s. An aptitude test in high school pointed him toward a career as an accountant or a stockbroker. “This must be my life, this is my destiny,” he thought. The logic and introverted nature of the work appealed to him. It was only the sudden discovery of graphic design that pulled him toward a creative path, a “salvation” that saved him from a life of spreadsheets.
This shared history, a push and pull between creative impulse and practical finance, reveals a fundamental truth. The relationship creatives have with money is not just a business problem. It’s a personal one, rooted in identity, upbringing, and human biology itself.
The Scarcity Brain
Why do so many creatives default to a lack mindset, nickel-and-diming their own potential? De Leon suggests the answer isn’t in a business school textbook, but in evolutionary biology.
“Human beings have this quirk in their mind where they pay attention to things that are scarce,” she explains. This is a survival mechanism. Early humans who paid attention to dwindling berry supplies or a shrinking herd of buffalo were the ones who survived. “The ability to pay attention and give a lot of our attention to scarcity makes sense in that context.”
This biological wiring creates a chain reaction: we scan for scarcity, it triggers a stress response in our amygdala, and that stress is supposed to kick us into action. The problem is, in the modern world, that “action” often manifests as anxiety, paralysis, or frantic, unproductive work.
Worse, this primal trigger is now a tool for marketers. Modern sales language is engineered to exploit our fear of scarcity. Phrases like “only 3 left” or the time-pressure of a Black Friday sale are designed to short-circuit our rational brain and provoke an immediate, visceral reaction. “Whenever I see that, I can feel a visceral reaction in my body of like, well I have to buy it now,” de Leon admits.
This constant triggering reinforces a scarcity mindset as the default mode of operation. We’re not just socialized to believe money is scarce; we are biologically predisposed to it, and our commercial culture relentlessly pokes at that raw nerve.
The Creative’s Double Bind
This biological programming is a problem for everyone. For creatives, it’s a crisis.
The issue is the direct line between the creator and the creation. “Creative people are very feeling-oriented people,” de Leon observes. “Their job, in my opinion, is to feel and then express that through a medium.” A design, a photograph, a piece of music isn’t just a product. It’s a distillation of their experiences, their wins, their failures, their very identity.
This creates a dangerous conflation. When a creative goes to the marketplace, they aren’t just selling a deliverable. They are asking someone to put a price on a piece of themselves.
“When the exchange does or doesn’t happen, or when you’re offered a lot less money, I think that’s when we start to see a lot of this friction,” de Leon says. “And a lot of this conflating of my work is who I am, and the prices that people pay is a direct reflection of who I am and my value and my worth.”
This is the creative's double bind. They are hit with the general scarcity mindset, then layered with a profound personal-worth dilemma that people selling widgets never face. Add a third layer, as de Leon points out from her own experience: a cultural narrative that positions creative work as something for the privileged. “I never really met working artists…until I was older,” she says. “A lot of those people were white and a lot of those people were well off.”
This creates a powerful internal script: “I’m not the kind of person that invests,” or “People like me are not wealthy.” These aren’t just thoughts; they are deeply held worldviews programmed by everything we observe. As sales expert Blair Enns, a mentor de Leon looks up to, is known for saying, those who don't talk about money don't make it. The silence and shame around finance become a self-fulfilling prophecy. An awareness of these dynamics is the first step toward rewriting the script, a process Do has explored in his own work on building a personal brand.
Arguing Against Your Own Success
This friction manifests most clearly in pricing discussions. Do points to the reaction he gets on a video about pricing a logo, his most-watched piece of content. The comments are a battleground.
While some embrace the idea of charging premium rates, a vocal segment reacts with anger and denial. “This is total BS,” they write. “If you charge this much for a logo, they’ll just hire someone else.”
What confounds Do is that this argument comes not from clients, but from other creatives. They are passionately arguing against their own self-interest.
De Leon provides a diagnosis. It’s a self-protection mechanism. “It must feel very frightening or alarming…if I’m out there charging 75 dollars for a logo and you’re out there charging 1500 or…fifteen thousand,” she explains. “That is gonna shock me.”
Accepting that a radically different price is possible forces a painful reckoning. It means confronting the reality of years spent undercharging and overworking. It surfaces questions about missed opportunities and financial struggles that could have been avoided. “It’s really painful to be like, I wasted three years doing 75 dollar logos when I could have expanded my thinking,” she says.
The easier path is denial. It is psychologically safer to attack the new information than to integrate it. A closed mind is a defense mechanism. People would rather stick with a broken system they understand than embrace a new one that reveals their past mistakes.
To test this ceiling, Do ran a social experiment on Twitter. He asked, “What was the most amount of money you ever charged for a single logo?” The answers ranged from zero to $750,000.
The predictable outrage followed. Disbelief. Accusations. Rationalizations. But the point wasn’t to prove a specific number. It was to shatter the self-imposed limits creatives place on their own value. The goal was to show them that their reality is not the only reality. “Your limited thinking will actually limit the kind of success you’re going to have,” Do concludes.
When Pain Becomes the Catalyst
If people are so resistant, what actually causes them to change? The answer is simple and brutal: pain.
“If you talk to people who’ve transformed their lives and you ask them why did they do it, it’s oftentimes because the pain of staying the same was…they could not tolerate that pain anymore,” de Leon states. Transformation happens when the agony of stagnation outweighs the fear of change.
The person who finally raises their rates isn’t necessarily inspired. They’re desperate. They are burned out, in debt, and can no longer sustain the physical and emotional cost of under-earning. The change is not a leap toward pleasure, but a frantic scramble away from pain.
Do muses on whether this pain can be manufactured through marketing, by painting a vivid picture of failure to motivate action. De Leon acknowledges this works. It’s a common tactic in manipulative marketing. “That doesn’t feel good to me,” she says, distancing herself from the strategy. “I don’t want to exploit other people’s…they are already in pain and I don’t want to put them in more pain just to sell them a thing.”
Instead, her approach is to provide the tools for when someone reaches that threshold on their own. Her book and content are asynchronous resources, waiting for the person who is finally ready. For creatives, she notes, there’s an advantage. They already know how to use their imagination. “They close their eyes…and they imagine something and then they make it exist in real life,” she says. “They’re already doing the work of thinking a thought and then making that thought exist.”
The challenge is to turn that powerful imagination inward, to redesign their own beliefs about money. This requires a new level of self-awareness and emotional regulation, a skill set often overlooked but critical for success in any creative business, as explored in discussions on handling feedback and criticism.
A Playbook for Financial Clarity
For those who have reached their pain threshold and are ready for change, de Leon offers a practical starting point. It isn’t about complex spreadsheets or market analysis. It’s about building a simple, consistent habit.
She calls it the Weekly Finance Time. It’s a recurring appointment on your calendar, with yourself, to manage your money. “The least amount of time you should dedicate is 20 minutes,” she advises. “An hour for people who are working for themselves is really solid.”
The initial steps are disarmingly simple, designed to overcome the inertia of avoidance:
- Start by showing up. The most important part is honoring the appointment. Don’t worry about what you’ll do at first.
- Just gather logins. If you’ve been avoiding your finances, you likely have accounts you rarely access. Your first task is to simply find your usernames and passwords for student loans, business loans, credit cards, and bank accounts. Put them in a password manager.
- Just look. In your next session, log in and look. Don’t judge. Don’t analyze. Just review your transactions. Lay your eyes on the data.
“It might feel uncomfortable at first, but it’s kind of like going to the gym,” de Leon says. “I’m not asking you to wake up tomorrow and join Equinox and do 50 burpees…I’m just asking for you to like, go there, park your car, and stand outside the door for a little while.”
This gentle exposure builds tolerance and reduces the emotional charge associated with money. But managing your state is an ongoing task. For this, de Leon introduces a powerful psychiatric tool: the Window of Tolerance.
Developed by Dr. Daniel J. Siegel, a clinical professor of psychiatry at UCLA, this concept describes the optimal zone of emotional arousal where you can function effectively. Outside this window, your decision-making is impaired.
- Hyper-arousal: This is the “fight or flight” state. You feel anxious, overwhelmed, and fired up. You’re arguing with customer service chatbots or obsessively refreshing your bank account.
- Hypo-arousal: This is the “freeze” state. You feel numb, withdrawn, and disconnected. You’re “ostriching,” ignoring bills and avoiding financial conversations entirely.
The key is to recognize which state you’re in and use simple techniques to guide yourself back to the window of tolerance. “The state that you’re in determines the quality of the decisions that you’re going to make,” de Leon insists. It’s like going to the grocery store hungry; you’re guaranteed to make bad choices. Financial decisions are no different.
The Undeniable Case for Charging More
Once you develop the emotional regulation to engage with money rationally, the logic for charging more becomes undeniable. Do challenges de Leon with an inversion exercise: earnestly argue why creatives should charge less.
The arguments feel plausible on the surface:
- There’s less friction in the sales process.
- You don’t have to learn difficult new skills like negotiation or value-based pricing, a topic often discussed in-depth in frameworks for business.
- You’ll be liked and seen as affordable to everyone.
- You don’t have to make hard business decisions like choosing a niche.
- You can avoid hiring and management, staying a happy “maker.”
But as Do points out, “The arguments are fake…if you just go one layer deeper, you’re kind of screwed.” Charging less is a strategy for stagnation, not growth.
The case for charging more, by contrast, creates a cascade of positive outcomes. It is not an act of greed, but a foundation for a sustainable and impactful career. De Leon and Do lay out the benefits:
- A rising tide lifts all boats. When experienced creatives charge more, they raise the perceived value of the entire profession. This creates room for junior talent to grow and establishes a healthier market for everyone.
- You can work less and do better work. Higher fees mean taking on fewer clients. This allows for deeper focus, higher quality output, and liberation from the burnout cycle of chasing volume.
- You can build a business, not just a job. Profitability allows you to hire people. This isn't just about delegation; it's about hiring people who are *better* than you, elevating the quality of your entire operation and building a true agency.
- You can be more generous. Charging premium rates to corporate clients who can afford it allows you to subsidize pro bono or low-cost work for nonprofits and causes you believe in. Profit creates the margin for mission.
- You can build a life. Charging more means you can afford health insurance, save for taxes without panic, and fund a retirement account. It provides a living wage, not just a starving artist’s wage.
- It boosts your self-worth. The act of successfully commanding a high fee validates your skills, experience, and education. It proves that society values creative thinking and rewards the difficult path you chose.
This is the future Do and de Leon both want for creatives. “Wouldn’t the world be a better place?” de Leon asks. “How many other little Pacos out there didn’t believe in themselves, didn’t believe in their ideas and their imagination?”
The price you charge is more than a number on an invoice. It is a declaration of what you believe your contribution is worth. It is a reflection of your mindset, and that mindset is the only thing truly standing in your way.
You have the imagination to create something from nothing. Now, you must turn that power on yourself and create the financial reality you deserve.
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