CREATOR LIFE BTS | how I post with 12-hour shifts
- Krista DeLisle

- 1 day ago
- 3 min read

I don’t have a fantasy schedule, and I think that’s the first thing I need to say. I don’t wake up at 5am glowing. I don’t batch thirty videos on Sundays. I don’t have a color-coded content calendar taped to my fridge that magically runs my life. I work 12-hour shifts, I come home tired, and I build content around the energy I actually have.
For a long time I thought I was doing it wrong because every productivity video online sounded like it was made for people with unlimited time. Wake up early. Film everything in advance. Stay ten steps ahead. Hustle now so you can rest later. And I tried to copy that rhythm, but all it did was make me feel behind before I even started.
The shift for me happened when I stopped trying to build a creator schedule that looked impressive and started building one that was repeatable. Repeatable is the word that changed everything. I don’t need a perfect system, I need one I can follow on my worst day.
Workdays are light by design. I don’t expect big creative output from myself when I’ve already given twelve hours to another job. Most workdays mean one post, and sometimes that post is something I filmed in pieces earlier in the week. A clip in the morning. A thought in the car. A reset when I get home. I stitch real moments together instead of waiting for a perfect filming window that never comes.
Off days are where I breathe and create more freely. That’s when I film longer resets, talk-through videos, and anything that requires actual brainpower. I don’t force productivity on low-energy days because I’ve learned that forcing it turns content into resentment. When I follow my energy instead of fighting it, I end up making more anyway.
There’s also a huge mental shift that happened when I stopped treating content like a separate life and started letting it live inside my real one. I’m not stepping into a studio version of myself to film. I’m filming while I live. That sounds obvious, but it took me a long time to understand that I didn’t need to manufacture a creator persona. My routine is the content. My tiredness is the content. The reset after work is the content.
Consistency, for me, doesn’t mean constant output. It means showing up in a rhythm my life can support. Some weeks are heavier than others. Some days I post late. Some days I reuse drafts. The internet teaches you that consistency has to look rigid, but sustainable consistency is flexible. It bends with your life instead of breaking it.
I also stopped chasing volume as proof that I was serious. Posting more doesn’t automatically mean growing more. Burning out guarantees you disappear. I’d rather post one honest video a day for a year than sprint for two months and vanish. The long game is quieter than people expect.
There are nights I sit on the couch editing with my eyes half closed. There are mornings I look at my drafts and think, this is all I have today, and I post anyway. Not every piece of content is a masterpiece. Most of it is documentation. The power is in showing up again tomorrow.
I think a lot of creators secretly believe they have to earn the right to rest by overproducing first. I don’t believe that anymore. I think rest is part of the system, not the reward at the end of it. If your schedule only works when you’re superhuman, it doesn’t work.
Building content around a full-time job forced me to get honest about my limits, and that honesty made my system stronger. I know what I can repeat. I know what burns me out. I know the difference between pushing myself and punishing myself.
Some days I wish I had more time. Of course I do. But there’s something grounding about building this slowly. Every post exists inside a real life, not a vacuum. I’m not waiting for perfect conditions to start. I’m building in the middle of the mess, and that makes the process feel human.
If you’re trying to grow something online while working a full-time job, I want you to hear this clearly: you’re not behind. You’re building with weight on your shoulders, and that counts for more than you think. A system that fits your life will always beat a system that looks impressive from the outside.
I’m not doing more than I can sustain. I’m doing what I can repeat, and I’m trusting that repetition will carry me further than burnout ever could.
What part of posting feels hardest to balance with your real life right now?
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