I try and go on a walk each morning. I average anywhere from 1-3 miles, and where I’m at in world, it’s been pitch dark for the summer while I’m walking (usually out the door by around 5:30a).

I don’t listen to music, podcasts, or anything other than natural (and city) noises. And it really let’s my brain quiet down and think.

So what keeps us stuck? For me, I think it’s years of believing my limiting beliefs. About money, love, life, the world, etc.

Those aren’t built overnight, either - they’re cultivated from an early age, reinforced in our young adult years, and in my case, unintentionally embraced as an adult.

But those limiting beliefs can change, and mine are. And watching that happen in real-time is becoming quite the joyous adventure.

Finding a good coach, a good therapist, removing toxic relationships and adding in extraordinary ones - those have all played into me finding myself again.

Don’t get me wrong - this journey will be lifelong, and I’ve only begun. But I’m starting to see me again, and it’s really great.

If you’re feeling the weight of, well, everything, have hope.

And drop those fucking limiting beliefs like a hot potato.

👋 I’m Clint. I help your right-hand person step into confident decision-making, freeing up space for you to focus on your agency.

Work with me!

Burnout IS just a symptom. And I know this to my core.

I spent the first part of my career inside agencies holding many of the different roles. Designer, AM, AE, sales, ops, founder, partner, etc. And there’s a pattern present across each one, and it’s this:

We treat burnout like the problem. So we take the vacation, the time off, the PTO, set the boundaries, talk about self-care and protecting our energy. And then afterward, we go back to work.

And burn out again. Because burnout isn’t the problem.

It shows up when something structural in your business is broken and nobody has fixed it yet.

My version of this looks like…

• Burned out three times.

• Laid off three times.

• Worked with good people, and not-so-good people

• Had the weird boss.

• Been the boss.

Guess what? All of this (and I mean allllll) comes back to communication (surprise!).

Because we don’t always have the language to communicate what’s wrong to our team, and our team doesn’t have the language to talk to the leadership.

Finding that shared language so that teams can say “hey, we see a problem” and the leadership can actually hear it, and vice versa, is imperative to the success and growth of agencies.

What does that look like in the day-to-day?

Find that shared language. I like to use the 5 Ps (pricing, positioning, pipeline, process and people). It gets easier to pinpoint what’s wrong if you can tie things back to these areas.

For example - team feeling burned out and overworked? Maybe your pricing is off - you’re pricing too low, the team doesn’t have the bandwidth to do good work, etc. They can come to the owner and say “hey, I don’t think this was scoped correctly b/c we don’t have room to do great work” and the owner/leadership can start to make some changes at the business level. And so on and so on.

It gets easier, and it also helps to have an outside perspective (someone like me!).

👋 I’m Clint. I help your right-hand person step into confident decision-making, freeing up space for you to focus on your agency.👋 I’m Clint. I help your right-hand person step into confident decision-making, freeing up space for you to focus on your agency.
Work with me!

Look at the person right next to you. Your project manager, your account lead, the one holding the day to day together with quiet, relentless effort. The one whose burnout doesn’t announce itself the way yours does

But now that you see it, what do you actually do about it?

Here’s the honest answer. The fix isn’t a wellness day or a lighter week. Those help for a minute. The real fix is authority. You have to let them actually own something.

And I know why that feels hard, because I’ve been the owner who couldn’t do it.

That’s the thing nobody tells you. When you take back every decision, your right-hand person doesn’t just lose authority. They lose the reason to care. Why bring you an idea if you’re going to rework it anyway? Why push back if the answer is already decided? So they stop. Not in a dramatic way. They just get quiet and start executing orders. And then you wonder why you’re still the bottleneck.

Giving authority isn’t the same as dumping tasks on someone. Tasks you can hand off in an afternoon.

Authority takes three things, and most owners only give the first one.

1. The first is responsibility. You already do this. You give people work.

2. The second is the decision. This is where it breaks down. You have to name the actual calls this person now gets to make without you. Which clients they can say no to. What they can approve on their own. Where the line is that they don’t cross. If you can’t say it out loud, they can’t feel it, and they’ll keep checking with you to be safe.

3. The third is your public backing. When they make a call and it’s reasonable, you support it out loud, even if it’s not the call you would have made. The first time you overrule your PM in front of the team, every ounce of authority you gave them evaporates. They learn the real rule, which is that you’re still deciding, you just made them do the paperwork.

When those three line up, something shifts in your business;

• They stop needing you for every decision.

• You stop being the ceiling on how fast the work can move.

• And the load you’ve been carrying alone finally has somewhere else to go.

That’s the untangling I sit down and do with owners and their right-hand people.

Not a framework you’ll forget by Friday, but an honest conversation about which decisions are still stuck on your desk, and why.

If your best person has gone quiet, that’s worth a look before it gets expensive.

👋 I’m Clint. I help your right-hand person step into confident decision-making, freeing up space for you to focus on your agency.👋 I’m Clint. I help your right-hand person step into confident decision-making, freeing up space for you to focus on your agency.
Work with me!

Originally published on LinkedIn on July 25, 2026

I’d just quoted $14,000 for a full website build. Months of design, rounds of revisions, coordination, a full presentation to their leadership team. I put the number in the proposal, held my breath, and sent it over.

They didn’t pause. They just said... yes.

I remember that moment now and it tells me everything I needed to know at the time, but didn’t. Because $14,000 was not a number I arrived at by understanding what the work was worth. It was a number that felt serious enough to be real but not so large that it felt like a risk. I priced it based on what I thought I could ask for.

That’s guessing, not pricing.

I worked that project hard. Long hours, careful design, a launch I was proud of. They kept that website for years. And when I look back at what I charged, I want to sit my younger self down and have a very direct conversation.

The number I quoted was probably 5x too low. Not because I was being humble. Because I was calibrated to my own discomfort instead of to the actual value of the work. Those are not the same thing, and confusing them cost me real money for a long time.

What I know now (and what I try to help studio owners see) is that clients aren’t comparing your number to some fair market rate in their head. They’re looking at it trying to figure out if they trust you. A number that’s too low raises questions. A number clearly tied to outcomes and value builds confidence.

That organization paid $14,000 for a website that represented them to the world for the next several years. What was that actually worth to them? More than $14,000. Quite a bit more.

I’ve sat with owners who have been doing this for a decade and still price the same way I did in 2009. They add up their hours, attach a rate that feels defensible, and hand it over hoping for the best. Every proposal is a small act of anxiety. They’re not pricing, they’re just guessing and calling it a process.

You’re allowed to price for what you’re actually providing.

The number feeling big to you is not evidence that it’s too big. Most of the time, Learning to tell the difference is one of the most important things you can do for your business.

👋 I’m Clint. I help your right-hand person step into confident decision-making, freeing up space for you to focus on your agency.👋 I’m Clint. I help your right-hand person step into confident decision-making, freeing up space for you to focus on your agency.
Work with me!

Originally published on LinkedIn on June 12, 2026

The client has been with you since year one. Pays on time. No real drama. Also questions every invoice, slows down every approval, and makes every project harder than it should be. You keep them anyway, because letting go feels like ingratitude. And because the revenue feels safe. Because the hard thing is always easier to put off until next month.

I kept one of those clients for almost thirteen years.

He came to me in the early 2000s through a mutual friend. Small project, small budget, right at the edge of what I knew how to do at the time. I said yes because I was hungry and it was real work and someone was trusting me with it. I built what he needed, and then I kept building. Kept maintaining. Kept showing up.

When I moved to an agency, he came with me. When I started my own firm, he was still there.

Loyal. Always paid. Never any real drama.

The problem was that over thirteen years, I had changed. My skills had grown. My pricing had grown. My understanding of what good work actually requires had grown. He wasn’t growing with any of it. He’d question costs, hold up approvals, resist the decisions that served the work and push for the ones that didn’t.

He wasn’t a bad person at all, he just wasn’t the right fit for me anymore.

For longer than I’d like to admit, I kept that from myself. He was my first real client. He’d been loyal. And underneath the sense of obligation, if I’m being honest, was fear. Fear that letting go of something certain – even a small, difficult, increasingly frustrating certain thing – meant something was wrong with me.

Eventually I made one of the harder calls in my business life. I told him we were going to stop working on his project, refund his remaining balance, and step aside so someone else could take it forward.

The last time I checked, he still has a site that does what he wants it to do. He never launched the redesign we’d been building together. And I’m ok with that.

Holding on out of loyalty sounds noble. Most of the time it’s just fear with better branding. It doesn’t serve the client. It doesn’t serve you. It keeps you both a little stuck and neither of you moving.

When I sit with agency owners, this is one of the first places I look. Who are you keeping out of obligation? Who have you outgrown but haven’t said so yet? What would it actually mean to create that space?

The clients who were right for you at the beginning are not always the clients who are right for where you’re going. That’s not failure. That’s just what growth looks like.

Loyalty is a real thing, but fear dressed up as loyalty is something else entirely.

I hope you learn the difference a little earlier than I did.

👋 I’m Clint. I help your right-hand person step into confident decision-making, freeing up space for you to focus on your agency.👋 I’m Clint. I help your right-hand person step into confident decision-making, freeing up space for you to focus on your agency.
Work with me!

Originally published on LinkedIn on May 15, 2026

You can see something coming – a hard conversation, a client who isn’t working out, a business model that’s quietly breaking – and instead of naming it, you just wait. You hope it resolves itself. You find something else to look at.

It almost never resolves itself.

I want to tell you about a Tuesday in September 2013.

I’d been working as a graphic designer at Chesapeake Energy for almost two years. The layoffs had been coming every Tuesday since July. You’d walk in on a Monday and the air was already different. On Tuesday mornings people would cluster in doorways and wait.

By September, they’d cut 65 people in one department on a single phone call.

I knew it was coming for our team, but I didn’t know exactly when. But I knew. And I made a decision.

The night before, I set out a pink shirt. Pink slip (a private joke), just for me. I was going to name the day. Give it some dignity on my own terms.

In the morning I stopped and bought donuts for the entire marketing department. I’d never done that before. I set the box down in the kitchen and people were happy to see them.

Then I went to my office, packed my backpack with the things I’d want to take with me, walked it out to my car at 7:45a, and came back in.

And then I waited.

At 8:00a phones started ringing in offices. Five of us on the design team, standing in our doorways. When my phone rang, I gave everyone on the team a hug and said goodbye.

Walked upstairs. Sat through a prepared statement from the woman who had onboarded me. She was apologetic and just doing her best with the horrible job she’d been handed. Then a security guard walked me to my car.

By 9:30a that morning, the eight of us who’d been let go were sitting at a restaurant down the street. The bartender gave us the first round was on the house. Beer at 9:30a on a Tuesday was a first for me!

The pink shirt, the donuts, the backpack in the car…those weren’t dramatic gestures. They were just my way of saying: I see what’s happening, I’m not pretending I don’t, and I’m going to meet it standing up.

There’s a version of this in almost every agency I work with. Something the owner can see coming but hasn’t named yet. A team dynamic that isn’t working. A client relationship that’s turned soure. A pricing structure that’s slowly bleeding them dry.

Naming it doesn’t make it worse. It just means you meet it on your own terms instead of being met by it on its terms.

I walked out of that building at 9am, sad but not undone.

There’s a real difference between those two things.

👋 I’m Clint. I help your right-hand person step into confident decision-making, freeing up space for you to focus on your agency.👋 I’m Clint. I help your right-hand person step into confident decision-making, freeing up space for you to focus on your agency.
Work with me!

Originally sent out via newsletter on May 8, 2026

The best owners are often quietly drowning.

Not because they’re bad at what they do, but because they’re extraordinary at the work. If the business has grown faster than the structure around it, they’re likely holding it together through sheer force of will. That’s not sustainable and burnout is just around the corner.

Creative businesses underprice because they lack confidence and knowledge.

I charged $14,000 for a full website build in 2009. It took months and it was worth 5x times that. But the number felt big to me, so I assumed it felt big to the client. But that isn’t pricing, it’s guessing.

Hourly billing is one of the most self-defeating things you can build on.

You get faster as you develop your expertise. But somehow that means you earn less? The math doesn’t math, and it punishes growth. What’s the reward for all that hard work?

Contracts aren’t red tape, they are kind.

A contract is what you point to when the conversation gets hard. At Clover Partners we had a client threaten to sue us after we’d already handed over the files, canceled the remaining balance, and walked away cleanly. Our contract was so solid our attorney offered to counter-sue! We did not do that, btw. Kindness backed by clarity isn’t cold, it’s just professional.

You shouldn’t hold on to a client out of loyalty.

My first client was with me for more than thirteen years. As the years wore on, he’d question price, wouldn’t approve design, etc. We ceased to be the right fit for each other, but I kept him out of sentiment (and fear). Letting go felt ungrateful, but in practice, it was long overdue.

Presenting design matters as much as the design itself.

I once watched good work get killed in thirty seconds because the owner (who hadn’t been part of the project) walked into the room and loudly declared that one of the logo options looked like “something out of Star Wars.” The room never recovered. The work didn’t change, but the presentation did.

Outside perspective is a competitive advantage.

The studios I’ve seen grow the fastest — the ones that navigate hard seasons without falling apart — almost all have someone outside the business they trust to give them an honest read. Not because they’re incapable. Because being inside a thing makes it hard to see clearly.

Imposter syndrome is a sign you’re doing something real.

When I launched CW Strategic Advisory, the voice in my head was loud. Who’s going to care what you think? Why would anyone pay you for this? That voice doesn’t show up for things that don’t matter. It shows up because the thing you’re doing is worth doing.

It’s never too late.

I started over at 47. Two layoffs in one year, no severance, two kids at home, a business idea I couldn’t fully see yet. If you’re sitting on something – a service, a pivot, an ask you haven’t made – it’s only too late if you’re dead.

Fear tells you it’s not ready. Fear can just fuck off.

What do you believe? I’d genuinely like to know.

👋 I’m Clint. I help your right-hand person step into confident decision-making, freeing up space for you to focus on your agency.👋 I’m Clint. I help your right-hand person step into confident decision-making, freeing up space for you to focus on your agency.
Work with me!

Originally published on LinkedIn on February 23, 2026

Back in 2013, two things happened: I got laid off from a graphic design job, and I quit being a graphic designer.

The two were definitely related. I’d spent a decade working as a designer, but when my job abruptly ended, I decided that was it. I was done being a graphic designer. I didn’t like the stress, I wasn’t a “rockstar” designer and on and on. But before you jump to “that was such an impulsive decision,” let me tell you a few reasons why:

1. The year leading up to the layoff had been extremely toxic (my immediate team wholeheartedly excluded).

2. The level of criticism and stress caused me to completely burn out.

3. I read Design is a Job by Mike Monteiro.

I still loved design. And designers. And clients. And proposals. And…the business of design. Then I had an epiphany: I could still pursue my passion for design...but not as a graphic designer.

The next decade was spent diving headfirst into the business of design: processes, systems, cash flow, sales, business development, account management, and more. Design was (and is) still at the core of what I love, but it evolved. Each year brought new challenges that could be solved with design thinking — and I realized this was where I wanted to be.

Fast forward to this year, and I now have the immense privilege of working with owners who are at various crossroads in their own journey. Primarily with design and marketing firms — but the principles carry over. Because design shows up in so many facets of how we build and run a business.

I tell you this story because change is a natural part of life, but it doesn’t always have to entail a hard turn or an about-face. You can step away from a title without losing the heart of what you love. You started your studio to have freedom, so don’t let it trap you.

👋 I’m Clint. I help your right-hand person step into confident decision-making, freeing up space for you to focus on your agency.

Work with me!

Originally published on LinkedIn on June 17, 2025

Here’s the hot take: I got corrected without shaming and it will stick with me for life.

Too many years ago, I was a designer at a company that did a ton of print work. Brochures, packaging, maps, etc., with nationwide coverage and big quantities. I was part of an amazing marketing team, and one of my jobs was to lay out the coverage and pricing brochures, check them, check them again, and send them to print. The pricing tables came in from different regions, pulled from marketing managers and sales folks across the company. Then, together with my assigned corporate marketing manager, we’d package it all up, get it printed, and send it to retail locations.

If only I’d caught the mistake before the print run. And spent $100k on the brochures. If. Only.

But I didn’t. One incorrect price in one cell, buried in all those tables. I owned it. I knew it was my fault. And I was honestly pretty scared. What happens when you screw up and cost the company that much – especially when this was my first real design job?

But my manager (still one of the best I’ve ever had) handled it like a masterclass in leadership. He called me into the conference room and laid it out straight. Said he’d already called the printer, and they had agreed to eat part of the cost. Then he asked me what happened. I told him the truth. And his response? No yelling. No blame. Just: “This is a big deal. Don’t let it happen again.”

That was it. And here I am telling you this story because I still remember how he made me feel. Human. Trusted. Part of the team. He held me accountable, moved on, and never brought it up again.

Details always matter. And they matter even more under pressure. But leading with empathy while still holding the line?

That’s what sticks.

👋 I’m Clint. I help your right-hand person step into confident decision-making, freeing up space for you to focus on your agency.

Work with me!

Originally published on LinkedIn on May 27, 2025

You get a great lead, you have the first meeting, they’ve got a budget, the work is interesting, but... there’s a red flag. Something doesn’t feel quite right. There are indications that no matter the outcome of the project, it will never be successful (in their eyes). They’ve hired someone else before you, but they “didn’t do good work.”

If any of this sounds familiar, it’s because we’ve all been there. And if you haven’t, it’s likely on the horizon. Sometimes it’s really hard to pay attention to the red flags when you really need that paycheck. After all, contracts in hand pay more than contracts that might close. We all know this, and you’re not alone. But if you can really pay attention to those things that pop up and make you a bit uneasy—do it.

Once upon a time I met with a gentleman — let’s call him Trevor. Trevor had a business that was based around him alone. Name, persona, etc. He’d worked with an agency prior to us, but it wasn’t up to his standard. I met with him at a Panera, and he was a ball of energy. He had a million ideas and a tight budget. And I ignored the red flags.

• His business was him. Any critique of the brand was extremely personal.

• He wanted control, not collaboration. He needed validation more than strategy.

• He talked so much about how he just didn’t have the money to do this, but he’d manage to make it work.

Now granted, there is always some grace to give people when they come to you asking for design work. Maybe they don’t know what the market demands for a going rate. Maybe they don’t understand what the process should be. Maybe they don’t understand you, but you’re a referral and they want to chat. Those are all great things, and can lead to further conversations that allow you to qualify them as a great client (and to offer some much-needed education). And you don’t have to say no to every red flag. But you do need to name them. Out loud. And then decide (on purpose) if you’re going to move forward.

In fact, try this: the next time you get a great lead, do an internal pre-mortem.

• What will this client say if the project goes sideways?

• What will I say?

• What will I wish I’d done differently?

• What did I miss during qualification that could’ve told me this wasn’t a fit?

I know, I know – you have all the clients you need, but if you don’t... pay attention to the red flags! 🚩

👋 I’m Clint. I help your right-hand person step into confident decision-making, freeing up space for you to focus on your agency.

Work with me!

Originally published on LinkedIn on May 20, 2025