I thought I was building a framework for podcasts. What I didn't realize was that I was developing a way of thinking about every creative project I've worked on since - from meals for 2,500 people to AI ventures, improv classes, and even dinner parties.

It started ten years ago in a client meeting. They wanted the tactical stuff - microphones, software, and hosting platforms. But I kept pulling them back to something bigger.

"What's your plan?" I ask. "Who's your audience? Why should they care?"

They look confused. Everyone does this. They want to skip straight to the sexy stuff - the gear, the production, the publishing.

That's when I discovered I'd accidentally built something much more potent than podcasting advice.

Seth Godin says, "Culture conceals systems, and systems construct our future." I'd been unconsciously using the same systematic approach for everything creative, but I didn't know it had a name: systems thinking.

The question is: what hidden system is shaping your creative life right now?

The Accidental Discovery

It started with "see one, do one, teach one" - that old training principle.

Back in 2007, when the iPod was new and there were only about ten podcasts in total, I was listening to everything. In 2015, I launched 805 Conversations. Soon after, a guest asked me to help them build their own show.

I'm a chef by training, so I think in recipes. I also love alliteration. The letter P worked perfectly (pun intended).

Plan, Produce, Publish, Partner, Promote.

However, I didn't realize this until years later: I was practicing a concept called systems thinking, but I had no idea what it meant.

The Revelation

A client who worked in global health stopped me mid-sentence one day.

"Oh, now I understand what you're doing," she said.

"What?"

"You're a systems thinker."

I had no clue what she meant. She explained that I naturally see the entire system - all the moving parts, all the connections, everything that has to work together.

It hit me like a revelation. When I was catering dinner for 2,500 people at Westmont, I wasn't just thinking about cooking food. I was thinking about room setup, buffet lines, transportation, ordering, ice, glasses, cups, staff scheduling - everything.

That's systems thinking, and apparently, I'd been doing it my whole career without knowing there was a name for it.

The 5Ps weren't just about podcasting. They were about thinking through any complex system.

Why Everyone Skips the Plan

Here's what happens every single time: people want to jump straight to "produce."

"What microphone should I buy? Do I need a studio? What software should I use?"

They get lost in tactics before they've figured out strategy. It's like starting to cook for 2,500 people without knowing what you're serving or who's coming to dinner.

Plan isn't the fun part, but it's everything. For podcasts: What's your show about? Who needs to hear this? Why you, and why now?

But this applies everywhere. Before I design a new improv class format, I sketch the emotional beats I want the audience to experience. When Coastal Intelligence plans an AI workshop, we map the participant journey first. Even dinner parties start with "who's coming and what do they need for this evening?"

In a world with millions of podcasts, infinite newsletters, and endless content, how are you going to break through? You need something unique, something your audience can't find in 100 other sources.

The question nobody wants to answer: Why do you want to make this thing?

It's not hard work, but it's a lot of steps. This show requires 21 individual steps and takes five and a half hours to produce. Why put yourself through that? What change are you trying to create?

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The Production Paradox

Produce is actually the easiest part now, which surprises people.

You can get studio-quality microphones for $100. Headsets that let you hear yourself clearly. Free editing software like GarageBand. Great cameras for video.

When I started ten years ago, this stuff was complicated and expensive. Now it's ubiquitous.

But production isn't just gear. It's your entire brand - logo, website, visual identity. Everything that makes your show feel like one coherent thing instead of a collection of random episodes.

This thinking transfers everywhere. When Coastal Intelligence hosts an event, we create the "brand feel" first - the room setup, the welcome experience, the takeaway materials. For improv shows, it's lighting, music, and even how we arrange the chairs.

The tools are never the bottleneck. The system that connects them is.

The Publishing Puzzle

Publish is where strategy meets reality.

Do you have a website? A newsletter? A mailing list of people who actually want to hear from you?

I use Substack because they handle the technical distribution automatically - Apple Music, Spotify, all the major platforms get fed from one source. I'm not a fan of paying hosting fees when I don't have to.

But here's what matters more than platforms: Do you have anyone to tell when your thing launches?

This applies beyond content. When we launch a new AI tool, we don't just build it and hope for the best. We map the distribution channels first. Local events need venue partnerships. Newsletters need subscriber engagement strategies.

Publishing is never just about the platform. It's about the relationship with your audience.

The Forgotten Partner Principle

Partner is the P that gets completely neglected, and it's where the magic happens.

Three kinds of partnerships can transform any project:

Fiscal partners - Someone who wants access to your audience. For podcasts, that might be local businesses or nonprofits. For events, it's the sponsors who align with your mission. For creative projects, it's clients who see value in your approach.

Content partners - Your source for interesting material. Instead of scrambling to find podcast guests, I partner with organizations that have collections of interesting people, such as TEDx communities, professional associations, and university departments. For improv shows, we partner with local storytelling groups. For AI projects, we connect with research labs and innovation hubs.

Amplification partners - People who will share your work with their audiences. Yoga studios for wellness content, libraries for educational programs, and VC groups for business insights.

This isn't about using people. It's about creating mutually beneficial relationships where everyone wins.

The partnership principle works for everything. Even at dinner parties, I think about who else might benefit from meeting the people I'm inviting.

The Promotion Problem

Promote is the other forgotten P.

How are you letting people know about this thing?

I do 90-second video hits on Substack and LinkedIn for every episode. Some people use newsletters, social media, or guest appearances on other shows to promote their content. The method matters less than having a method.

But this applies to everything creative. New improv formats need audience education before the show. AI tools need user onboarding strategies. Even dinner conversations benefit from a bit of advance setup - "I'm excited for you to meet Sarah, she's working on something you'll find fascinating."

Here's what everyone forgets: every project has a first-time encounter with it. You need to make it easy for them to engage if they like what they experience.

I never assume "if it's good, they'll find it." Good work still needs intentional sharing.

The Universal Application

The 5Ps originated as a podcasting methodology, but I now apply them to everything.

Coastal Intelligence AI projects, client consulting, and even personal decisions.

What's the plan? What do we need to produce? How will we publish or share it? Who could we partner with? How will we promote it?

It works because systems thinking works. Whether you're launching a podcast, building a business, or planning a dinner party, you're dealing with interconnected parts that all have to work together.

Most people see individual tasks. Systems thinkers see the whole machine.

The Recipe Mindset

Perhaps it stems from my culinary background, but I believe that everything worthwhile can be broken down into a recipe.

Not because creativity doesn't matter, but because structure frees you to be creative in the right places.

You don't improvise the basic food safety protocols. You improvise the seasonings.

You don't skip the foundational planning. You get creative with the execution.

The 5Ps provide you with a structure that allows you to focus your creative energy where it truly makes a difference.

What Everyone Gets Wrong

Here's the uncomfortable truth: most people want the tactics because tactics feel like progress. Planning feels like a delay.

But tactics without a strategy are just expensive busy work.

The microphone doesn't matter if you don't know who you're talking to. The perfect logo doesn't matter if you can't explain why anyone should care. The slick production doesn't matter if you have no way to find your audience.

Start with the system. The rest will follow.

And here's what I've learned after ten years of teaching this: the people who do the planning work upfront are the ones still making things two years later. The ones who skip to tactics? They usually quit after six attempts.

My Quirky Personal System

Here's one weird thing I do that proves the 5Ps work beyond podcasting: every time I reorganize my home office (which happens quarterly because I'm apparently that person), I use the same framework.

* Plan: What am I actually trying to accomplish in this space? Focus on work? Creative thinking? Video calls? Each requires a different setup.

* Produce: Get the physical elements right - lighting, sound dampening, camera angles, storage that actually works.

* Publish: How does this space connect to the outside world? Is my backdrop professional enough for client calls? Can people hear me clearly?

* Partner: What shared resources does this space need to access? Printer location, family traffic patterns, pet management (yes, that's a thing).

* Promote: How do I make this space so inviting that I actually want to spend time here? Because the best system in the world fails if you avoid using it.

I realize this makes me sound slightly obsessive about office furniture. But it works. And more importantly, the thinking transfers to everything else I build.

Here's an even better example from just yesterday: I had coffee with Judy Hawkins about a Coastal Intelligence project. During our conversation, she mentioned she'd love to make a GPT to help women find women-owned businesses. I parked that away in my brain as a clever idea.

When I got home, I immediately sat down and wondered, 'What's the Plan?' Create an easy-to-use GPT that helps women find and support women-owned businesses, whether nationally or internationally, and give it to Judy so she can start experimenting with it.

The Produce was the actual creation. After an hour or so, the GPT was built, complete with a name (FoundHer), a logo, a point of view, and filled with poetry. I like to inject storytelling into everything, and in this case, poetry seemed particularly appropriate.

For publication, I have posted it to the GPT Store, so anyone in the world can access it, including you, dear reader.

For Partnering - I know the incoming president of the local chapter of NAWBO (The National Association of Women Business Owners). Kinda directly on point, don't you think?

And for Promotion - this post is the beginning.

Within 24 hours, I utilized each of the 5Ps and created something that didn't exist beyond a fleeting, random thought.

That's what happens when you have a system you trust.

The Collection I'm Building

The 5Ps work for me because they match how my chef-trained, systems-thinking brain operates. But I'm fascinated by the different "recipes" other people use when they're starting something new.

Some people always begin with a single phone call to test an idea. Others start by writing the press release. I know someone who sketches every project first, even if it's not a visual one. Another person always identifies their "success metric" before anything else.

Here's what I want to know: What's your repeatable first step when you're starting something creative?

It could be tiny - maybe you always make a specific playlist, or clean your desk, or text three people for input. Or it could be strategic - perhaps you always identify your "failure point" first, map the competitive landscape, or determine your budget constraints.

Share your creative project "recipe" in the comments, even if it's unusual, especially if it's unusual. I'm building a collection of different approaches to making things, and I'd love to add yours.

Because here's what I've learned: the people who consistently create good work aren't just talented. They have systems. And those systems are worth sharing.

What's yours?

If you found this useful, share it with someone who's stuck in tactical thinking instead of systems thinking. Sometimes the best gift you can give a creator is a better way to think about their process.

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