The Scariest Leap of My Life

And so it begins.

You’ve reached the halfway point of a yearlong creative experiment. I am your test subject, illustrator, and scared shitless storyteller. The premise of this experiment? Facing fear.

In the past six months, I’ve done many scary things, but nothing as scary as the story below—for it’s the story of why I quit my job to chase my callings, why I am turning on paid subscriptions, and why I am announcing both to the entire world. 

Me leaping from the stability of the red square, my former employer’s logo.

For the last month and half, I have wondered if I am about to blow up my life. 

It started in mid-May, when a voice unexpectedly gnawed at me: What if you stopped saying “maybe someday”?  I was dicing onions in the kitchen and almost sliced my index finger off. What if you gave yourself the space to pursue everything you want? 

My stomach dropped—then danced. I started picturing everything on the other side of those “What ifs”: I saw myself leaving my job. I saw myself leaving New York. I saw myself leaving everything I was “supposed” to focus on so that I could focus on everything I never had the courage to consider. 

After the initial excitement came the immediate unease: How could I ever quit my job at R/GA, a genuinely great, global agency? I loved my work. I got to build brands with the smartest minds and write everything from scripts and billboards to app screens and homepages. It was The Best First Job in the World. It was the kind of creative job I could see myself at for another ten years. Content. Climbing. Comfortable. 

And that’s exactly why I almost crawled into the closet when I got hit with the calling to leave. Are you insane? For weeks, I tossed and turned with the thought of quitting. Of voluntarily leaving structure, stability, support. I slept little. I journaled a lot. 

But every time I actually let myself listen to what I wanted, the answer was there. 

The answer wasn’t loud. The answer wasn’t in-my-face. But the answer was there: Go. 

It was an answer that would require me to make the most terrifying move of my adult life. To pursue the dreams I had once been afraid to admit—even to myself. 

Seven months ago, I did something I had never dared: I wrote down the future of my dreams. In this vision, I was a published author, a speaker, an artist. It was so clear to me. It was so powerfully clear to me that this was the future I was called to—that for the first time, I cried tears of hope for the future I finally had the courage to say I wanted.

Two days later, I ended up in the hospital. It took facing my mortality for me to finally realize I was nowhere on the path towards reaching the vision of my dreams. Rather than focus on my callings, I had focused on my career. In helping brands find their voice at R/GA, I had lost my own. In writing each day at work, I had stopped writing for fun. 

I blamed my inaction on burnout. But truthfully, it was fear. Rather than go after what I most desired—to share my work with the world—I had hidden behind fear. I was afraid my voice didn’t matter. I was afraid to fail. I was afraid to even try.

Six months ago, I launched Brazenface because I wanted to stop living in fear. I declared that for all of 2022, I would write, illustrate, and photograph my year of doing everything that terrifies me—and I would share it on Substack for the world to see.

I expected to have a fun creative outlet, but I did not expect this newfound sense of creative purpose. The past six months creating here on Substack have been the most creatively electrifying months of my 24 years of life. 

But I felt like I was only scratching the surface. That this was just the beginning. And it is.

Last week, I left the full-time job I love in pursuit of the life I might love even more. I am going to be doubling down on Brazenface, my ideas, my dreams. I am going to be freelancing. And I’m going to be traveling the world while I do it. 

But I am not only taking the leap in walking away from a stable job, I am also taking a leap in walking forward on Substack:

Today, I am doing what terrifies me most as an artist: asking for your support.

The thought of putting a price on what I create makes me deeply uncomfortable, which is why I’ve avoided going “paid” on Substack. Tying money to “by Tatiana Gallardo” feels wildly foreign. But the paid subscription model is what makes Substack so special: independent writers can make a living doing what they love. 

I love this work. I feel called to do this work. But it is work. Behind every Brazenface post are days spent writing, re-writing, storyboarding, sketching, illustrating, shooting, editing, crafting. I say “no” to invites so I can say “yes” to ideas here. This work has become the most soul-sparking, purpose-giving work of my life—and I’d be incredibly grateful to have you support it.

For $5 a month, you can support this work. For $5 a month, you can support this leap from stable everything to stable nothing—and help keep my best work free. Paid and free subscribers will continue to receive a Brazenface story every two weeks about the latest fear I’ve conquered. But here’s where things change: Paid subscribers will also get more. 

Paid subscribers will enter my experimental playhouse. I will share paid-only posts that explore Substack’s tools (audio, visual) and are open about the ups and downs of being a 24-year-old artist growing some balls and growing up—across New York, South America, and soon, Europe. Baring the behind the scenes process is not easy for me. In fact, it petrifies me. But when I posted about these struggles last month, I realized that being honest about what you’re experiencing is actually one of the most brazen moves you can make. And that’s what I want paid posts to be about.

To change your subscription to a paid one, or become a free subscriber, click the button below. If you’re reading this on the Substack app, you’ll have to re-enter your email here to update your subscription. As always, I promise to only show up in your inbox with intention.

On my last day at R/GA, Brazenface got featured on Substack.com. Shocked by the serendipitous timing and floored by the influx of new subscribers, I let out a mini scream. An R/GA security guard approached me. After hearing what had happened to me, he shook his head. 

“It’s not a sign,” he said. “It’s a beginning.”

(AKA recent moments of courage that made me mildly freak out—but I did them anyway)

• Announcing paid-only posts: I’ve feared being audacious enough to say my work has value, or looking like I’m “selling out.” These fears have kept me on the Substack sidelines. Going paid here marks a huge—albeit trembly!—leap in my belief in myself and my work. I’m still figuring it out, but I’d be stoked to have you figure it out alongside me. If you can’t afford a paid subscription, just shoot me an email.

• Declaring my dreams. I often think about how kids are brazen enough to dream without fear. “What do you want to be when you grow up?” “A fashion designer!” “The president! “A writer!” But then we grow up. Dreams stop being realistic and start being silenced. In writing the piece above, I have finally begun sharing what I want out of life. But there’s also a new addition: because of Brazenface, I now want to illustrate a graphic memoir. Admitting these dreams to myself—and especially the internet—is terrifying. I almost didn’t include them, but for the first time ever, I’m putting my dreams out there. Because I’m finally pushing myself to pursue them.

Tatiana Gallardo is a freelance writer, illustrator, and namer. She’s currently subletting in New York City for the summer, until she embarks on her biggest international adventure yet. In the meantime, she’ll be crafting what’s to come.