Whenever I have a brand‑new idea for content (a session, YouTube video, blog post, anything), the first thing I do is draft some sort of description or at least the objective behind it. Almost like a personal definition of done. It helps me understand what I’m aiming for so I don’t drift into something completely different.
I’ll be honest: I am the queen of half‑ideas. I often drop something halfway through because the process sparks a new idea that suddenly feels more exciting. It’s not intentional, it’s just how my brain works. But it does mean that setting a clear objective at the beginning matters.
A few months ago, I had the idea to create a new session on Ethical Storytelling. Storytelling with data is already a topic that gets misunderstood, so I wanted this one to be really focused.
The intention was clear:
a session about how sampling bias and framing shape data stories, how technically correct data can still mislead, and how we can communicate with more transparency and responsibility. A session about trust, integrity, and the consequences of the narratives we create.
The idea felt solid. The direction felt precise.
And then I started building it.
Almost immediately, the work drifted and it took me a while to realise that. The first slides slid right back into technical territory, fixing axes, adjusting scales, pointing out visual errors. Before I knew it, I was recreating material from a session I already have, Accidental Data Lies: How Poor Visual Choices Can Mislead.
I love that session… but it wasn’t the point of this one. And it definitely wasn’t what the new description had promised.
My first instinct was to fix it by finding new examples. I did. Then I tweaked slides, revised layouts, reshuffled content… and somehow it still wasn’t right. Because the issue wasn’t the individual pieces, it was the foundation I was building from.
I didn’t need brand‑new content. I needed a different focus. This session wasn’t about the mechanics of charts; it was about the meaning behind them, framing, omissions, responsibility, interpretation. Yes, poor design can influence storytelling, but this wasn’t meant to be a session on design. I had to stop letting old habits steer the work.
And that’s where the relearning happened.
I had to relearn that a clear intention at the start doesn’t guarantee you’ll follow it.
I had to relearn that creative work often slips back into familiar territory, even when the project needs something different.
I had to relearn that noticing the drift, and correcting it, is part of the process, not a mistake.
By the time the session finally aligned with its original purpose, it had taught me as much about my own creative patterns as it did about the topic itself.
If there’s anything I want you to take from this, it’s that creating something new is rarely a straight line. Even with a clear description, it’s easy to fall into old patterns and build something you never intended to build. The important part is recognising when that happens and being willing to relearn your way back to the work you meant to create.
The word of the day is relearn, and embrace it. Have you stop to thinking about?
And if you’re thinking about what content to create next, try this:
write about your own relearning experiences.
They’re more valuable than you think.
