How I decide which projects are worth saying yes to

without second guessing myself

I didn’t plan to say yes. Wait, that’s not true. I planned to say yes the moment I read the brief.

But for the first time in a long time, I knew why I was saying yes.

Two weeks ago I got an email from one of the publisher I have worked with. I’m always happy when they reach out, we don’t have a lot of French Canadian publishers in my region, and they are the only Children’s publisher. Anyway, they had a project for me.

The project: a picture book rooted in Acadian culture, with a very mischievous character. My gut said yes instantly. But I’ve learned not to trust my gut alone. My gut has gotten me into some expensive, miserable projects over the years.¹

So I did the thing I always do now before committing to anything. I held the project up to my three words.

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Warm. Mischievous. Accessible.

These are my Creative North Star words, the three adjectives that describe not what my work looks like, but how it feels. The emotional fingerprint of everything I make when I’m at my best.

I landed on them about a year into my illustration career, during a particularly confusing afternoon when I was staring at my portfolio trying to figure out why some projects felt like me and others felt like I was wearing someone else’s clothes.

I went through every piece I’d made and asked the same question: what does this feel like?

Not what does it look like. Not what style is it. Not is it technically good.

How does it feel?

After a couple of hours and a lot of coffee,² three words kept surfacing. The same three, over and over, for the work I loved most.

Warm. Mischievous. Accessible.

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Back to the kid’s book.

I held the brief up to those three words like a piece of vellum paper held up to light.

Warm? Yup. The story is funny and makes you wanna say awww.

Mischievous? The principal has spunk!

Accessible? I live in Acadia, so the story will for sure speak to the region.

Three for three. So I replied and said yes 5 minutes later.

What I love about this is that it’s a completely different creative experience than saying yes because the money was good, or because you didn’t want to disappoint someone, or because you felt like you should take it.

When a project aligns with your words (which I would argue is a bit of your soul), the work comes easier. The decisions come easier. Even the hard days feel purposeful instead of just hard.

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The other side of this.

I want to be honest with you, because this system has also made me say no to projects I would have taken without hesitation two years ago.

A client came to me wanting sleek, corporate illustration: interesting brief, good budget and professional in every way.

But when I held it up to my three words?

Zero match.

The work they needed was precise, cool and in vectors, all things I respect enormously but am completely wrong for.

I passed. Politely, gratefully, with a referral to someone who was a much better fit.

Old me would have taken that project and quietly resented every hour of it.³

New me said no with a clear conscience, because I had evidence that it wasn’t right. Not just a feeling. A framework.

That’s what three words can do.

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Here’s the important part.

Your three words aren’t about style: they’re not about your colour palette, your aesthetic or your medium. They’re about the feeling underneath all of it, the spirit of your work. This is what will make your work stand out, this is what will make an art director see consistency and remember you for the right project.

Which means they apply to everything:

→ Which projects to take (and which to release without guilt)
→ Which portfolio pieces actually represent you
→ Which clients are worth pursuing
→ Which collaborations make sense
→ Which social posts feel like you versus which ones feel like a costume

When I post something that does really well, I can usually trace it back: warm (personal, human), mischievous (unexpected angle), accessible (no jargon, no gatekeeping, very relatable).

When something falls flat? Nine times out of ten I went somewhere that doesn’t match my words. Too polished. Too distant. Too safe.

Your three words become a tuning fork. You hold things up to them, and they tell you whether you’re in tune or not. It’s fundamental branding work ( I know, we illustrator are a bit allergic to that word. Trust me, you don’t need to). Done right, it will make your freelance life easier.

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How to find yours.

I built a free exercise that walks you through exactly this.

It’s called Find Your Creative North Star — and it’s the thing I wish someone had handed me when I was starting out.

It’s a five-step process that takes you from “I have no idea how to describe my work” to three specific words that are actually yours. Not borrowed from someone else’s bio. Not whatever sounds impressive. Not “colorful.”⁴

[Find Your Creative North Star — it’s free →]

It takes about 15 minutes. Some people do it faster. Some people stare at Step 3 for an entire afternoon and then have a breakthrough in the shower.

Either way, it’s worth doing before you make another creative decision.

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Where are you right now?

Are you at the stage of figuring out your three words for the first time? Or do you have words already but aren’t sure what to do with them yet?

Valerie xo

1. The project where I spent 40 hours on character designs for a client who wanted something “more classic whimsical” at the end. We do not speak of this.

2. Decaf, actually. I switched last year. Stacie, my inner critique, thinks this is a personal betrayal. I call it growth.

3. And charged too little for it, if we’re being completely honest.

4. Please not “colorful.” Your work is more interesting than “colorful.”