My Popsicle Stick Car on the 405 Theory, aka Creative Comeback Era

Today, we talk "creative comeback after motherhood - or any pause in your path." I'm sharing my metaphor and an easy framework for knowing what people actually want these days with content. Because really: what do people actually want from creators today? I love this one - my Popsicle Stick Car Theory...

This theory is for anyone rebuilding their ambition or starting over, or from scratch, creatively --- using whatever is in the craft drawer.

My Popsicle Stick Car on the 405 Theory

If you’ve ever been to Los Angeles, you know the 405 freeway. Six lanes of chaos, cars flying by at 80 miles an hour, and someone always cutting you off. But it can take you anywhere.

So, go with me on this. We are talking creative comeback after motherhood. But. We’re doing a metaphor.

There’s this beach I used to go to all the time. This beach = all my creative dreams and ambitions coming true, conversation flowing with my audience.

Back before motherhood, before all the snacks and drop-offs and bons of old crayons and Pepa figurines, I had this car, my old creative car, and I’d take it to that beach whenever I wanted to. It wasn’t fancy, but it worked. It got me there. I barely nowhere the car came from, but I often think I built it slowly, all through school and my teens and twenties. Then suddenly, I found a road to drive it on.

I’d pack up my thoughts, my laptop, maybe a smoothie, and just go. The drive was everything. The ideas, the energy, the breeze. All of it.

That car, my business, my brand, my voice, took me to big places. Projects, places, spotlights. The beach.

Motherhood

Then life changed. I parked the car. And I didn't care for that beach. I craved a cozy home, family, a mid-life deep dive into who I was NOW. Running on fumes - the fuel from my youth and young professional days - here I was, out of gas. So I stayed put.

I built a beautiful world: a home filled with noise and love. Joy came from tiny quiet moments. Tiny toes and watching the sunrise, tired eyes, steamy latte in hand. That other world of beach days, long gone, outgrown.

And that old car? Suddenly, I couldn't even fit inside. Clunky and awkward, I knew if I got on the road again, I'd need a new set of wheels, like a snail finding a shiny new shell when it outgrew its last one.

Creative Craving + Time

And then recently, my kid started school. Longer days. More time and space for my brain to tinker. I felt it strongly. The desire to get back to that beach. Or even explore other beaches or destinations. Just to get back out there. The thick musty breeze of the LA air on my face.

I've been craving that version of me who felt creative and awake. Because honestly, if I have to look at one more coloring book, tub of dried-up Play-Doh, or pile of toys that I have to put away, I might actually turn into dust. I love motherhood, but I’m drowning in it. And somewhere under the snack wrappers and Target receipts, I know I still have ideas.

So I looked outside, ready to go. And keys in hand, I realized that I didn't have a backup car. Just me standing in the driveway like, great, cool, awesome.

It's Just Me Out Here

In this creative comeback after motherhood, I don’t have a team or a plan. I don’t even have motivation most days. What I do have is a phone, a laptop, and a craft table covered in marker streaks.

So I did what any slightly delusional, semi-inspired person would do. I built a new car.

Not a real one. This one’s made out of popsicle sticks and tape from my kid’s craft station. It’s wobbly. It squeaks. It probably isn’t road legal. But it’s mine.

I can see the fancy cars on the freeway. The Teslas, the Bentleys, the people who already know where they’re going and how to get there. They’ve got their strategy, their metrics, their followers. They’re cruising.

Meanwhile, I’m in my driveway with Elmer’s glue, pretending I remember how to do this. And still, something in me says, go.

What a Creative Comeback Feels Like

So I get in my little popsicle stick car, blast some fun music, and pull onto the freeway.

It’s terrifying. The big cars swerve around me. I can feel people staring, wondering what this ridiculous contraption is doing out here. I kind of want to get off at the next exit. But the thing is, I’m moving.

Slowly. Unevenly. But forward.

That’s what this whole creative comeback feels like.

I look in the side mirror and barely recognize my car, but still, it's mine. So I giggle to myself. Then I tape together one more edge of the door or the trunk and keep going.

It’s not about having a five-year plan or going viral. It’s about movement. Getting back on the road, even when it feels ridiculous. Because staying parked, waiting for a better car or a clearer path, is a trap. You could wait forever.

Sometimes you just have to start driving again, even if your car is held together with tape and hope.

So What Does the 405 Demand? What Do People Want From a Content Creator These Days?

And really, what do the people consuming your art want from your creative comeback after motherhood??

Six Step Creative Comeback Framework

If the freeway is the audience, the world, the people you want to reach, then before you drive again, you have to understand what it takes to merge.

Here’s what I’ve learned about what people actually want right now.

1. They want connection, not content.

People can find information anywhere. They want you. They want to feel less alone.

Before you post anything, ask: does this make someone feel seen?

That’s the new metric. Connection is the new algorithm.

2. They want the real story.

Every good post, blog, or podcast follows the same rhythm: story, reflection, takeaway. Tell me what happened. Tell me what it meant. Leave me with one truth I can hold onto.

3. They want it highly specific.

OK, so you need the story. But what does that mean...?

Don’t tell me motherhood is hard. Tell me you reheated your coffee three times before 10 a.m. Don’t say you’re tired. Tell me you forgot why you opened the fridge. The more specific you are, the more universal it feels. Your English teacher was right: show, don't tell. People want to feel like they are in the story, not the analysis of the critic after the show.

4. They want emotion, not performance.

They want you to go there, emotionally --- if you are brave enough to.. Cry. Beg. Moan. Shout. Well, in a creative way. Stand on your soapbox.

Be messy. Real. Or be a whole mood in one breath.

We’re done with perfect. Say what you’re actually thinking, not the caption version. If you’re second-guessing yourself, it probably means you’re about to say something real.

5. They want consistency, not virality.

You don’t need to go viral. You just need to keep showing up. Every post teaches people what kind of voice you have and reminds you that you still have one.

6. They want someone to think out loud.

You don’t have to be an expert. You just have to be willing to say, “Here’s what I’m figuring out. Come with me.” I gave this topic a lot of space and thought and maybe even overthinking, and this is what I discovered.

People don’t want a coach. A relationship can't be a pyramid scheme. A business deal. A contract. A pitch. People want a companion. An honest friend. A bestie who will dig deep and fight their way out of a challenge.

The Takeaway

When it comes to a creative comeback after motherhood - or after any pause in your path -- you can’t get to the beach without the freeway. You can’t reach people without the people.

But the secret isn’t blending in with the Teslas. It’s building something that can survive the ride.

So if you’re rebuilding your ambition right now, if you’re sitting at your kitchen table with glue on your fingers wondering where to start, start here.

Know what the road demands.

Build what you can with what you have.

And drive anyway.

Because the beach, that spark, that place where you feel alive again, it’s still out there.

And it’s waiting for you to show up.

SO my friends....

Creative ambition doesn’t expire. It might get parked for a few years, buried under toys and laundry, but it’s still there, waiting for you to turn the key.

But you already knew that. The real question you have to ask yourself: Are you brave enough to drive the car? Even when it's a popsicle stick craft on a freeway of Porsches.