The slow movement didn't start with mindful morning routines or intentional social media breaks.
It started with a McDonald's.
In 1986, when fast food threatened to plant itself next to Rome's Spanish Steps, food writer Carlo Petrini sparked what became the Slow Food movement. Not just burgers vs. pasta, but preserving the social ritual of shared meals against the homogenisation of … everything.
The three principles he established - good, clean, fair - became the DNA of every slow movement that followed.
Slow cities prioritise pedestrians over cars.
Slow fashion values craft over trends.
Slow journalism chooses depth over breaking news.
Slow science lets ideas marinate rather than rushing to publish.
I see the value in creating content, building an audience and even concepts like flywheels in marketing. I’ve even helped people build the component parts for the businesses.
But more and more I see creators I respect - who share real value - talking about the importance of saying no. Despite building impressive follower counts and securing brand partnerships, there's an underlying tension in their content - a sense that they're running on a hamster wheel that's spinning faster and faster, with no clear way to step off without losing everything they've built.
This got me wondering, as someone only really starting now, am I approaching the creator economy all wrong?
Is content an addiction economy?
The current creator landscape operates on what behavioural psychologists call a "variable ratio reinforcement schedule" - the same psychological mechanism that makes pokies (slot machines if you’re not an Aussie) so addictive. Post something, get an unpredictable reward (likes, comments, shares), then feel compelled to post again to chase that next hit of validation.
This is designed to keep you hooked, not to help you build something sustainable.
Enter the slow creator movement - a philosophy borrowed from the slow food and slow media movements that's quietly gaining traction with creators who are put off by the content treadmill.
What does "slow" actually mean?
For me it’s not about posting less (though that might be a byproduct). It's about intention. It's choosing depth over virality, craftsmanship over content farming, and sustainable growth over explosive reach.
Think of it like the difference between fast fashion and a tailor. Fast fashion churns out trendy pieces quickly and cheaply, designed to be consumed and discarded. A bespoke tailor creates fewer pieces, but each one is carefully crafted, built to last, and commands a premium price because of the skill and intention behind it.
This mirrors what marketing strategists call a "premium positioning strategy"—deliberately limiting supply and focusing on quality to justify higher prices and build stronger brand loyalty.
The psychology of sustainable creation
There's solid psychological backing for why this approach might actually work better for both creators and audiences. Research on "hedonic adaptation" shows that we quickly become accustomed to frequent pleasures, meaning that producing a constant stream of content actually becomes less valuable to audiences over time, not more.
Meanwhile, the "peak-end rule" from behavioural psychology suggests people judge experiences largely based on their peak moment and how they ended. This means a single piece of exceptional content that leaves a lasting impression could be more valuable than ten mediocre posts that blend into the background noise of your chosen platform.
For creators, the slow approach aligns with what psychologists call "intrinsic motivation" - the satisfaction that comes from mastery, autonomy and purpose. When you're constantly chasing algorithm changes and trending topics, you're operating from extrinsic motivation, which research consistently shows leads to burnout and decreased creativity over time.
What this means in practice
So how do slow creators monetise? They're taking a page from the artisan economy playbook:
Premium positioning: Rather than competing on volume, they compete on quality and expertise. Think of a photographer who shoots fewer weddings but charges significantly more because their work is exceptional and their process is thoughtful.
Community over audience: Instead of broadcasting to thousands, they build genuine relationships with smaller groups who become advocates, not just followers. It's the difference between having 100,000 casual followers and 1,000 people who will actually buy from you.
Platform independence: They're building owned media (newsletters, websites, direct relationships) rather than renting attention from social platforms. It's slower to build but infinitely more sustainable.
Values-aligned monetisation: They turn down opportunities that don't fit their vision, even if they're lucrative. This might seem counterintuitive, but it actually strengthens their brand positioning - much like how Patagonia's "Don't Buy This Jacket" campaign paradoxically increased sales by reinforcing their environmental values.
The anti-growth parallel
This actually connects to the broader anti-growth business movement I've been exploring recently. Companies like Basecamp and Buffer have explicitly rejected venture capital and chosen to grow slowly whilst maintaining their values and work-life balance. They've prioritised sustainability over scale, and it's working for them.
The same principles apply to creators. You don't need millions of followers to build a sustainable creative business. You need the right followers - people who genuinely connect with your work and are willing to support it.
Why this resonates with me
Honestly, writing this has felt like putting words to something I've been feeling for a long time. The pressure to produce, stay relevant, optimise for engagement metrics it seems exhausting and in the past it has put me off starting or staying the course. I doubt I'm alone in that.
The slow creator approach feels like permission to focus on what matters: creating work that's meaningful to me and valuable to the people who choose to follow along. It's about building something sustainable rather than something that looks impressive from the outside but feels hollow on the inside.
I'm curious whether this resonates with you too. Are you feeling the content treadmill fatigue? Have you noticed yourself drawn to creators who post less frequently but with more intention?
Perhaps the rise of AI will mean the future of the creator economy won’t be about who can produce the most content the fastest. Maybe algorithms will reward those who create meaningful connections whilst maintaining their sanity, humanity and creative integrity along the way.
What do you think? I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments - especially if you've experimented with slowing down your own creative practice. I think the most valuable insights come when thoughtful practice is applied in the real world. That's why I'm documenting my own journey of navigating the creator economic, growing a consultancy, and sharing both the successes and the learning moments as they happen.
I help service business founders build functional systems and distinctive positioning through my consultancy, Designing Value. My approach prioritises practical strategy over generic solutions.
Your post really resonates with me. I'm just getting started here on Substack, and I feel all of what you shared. There is a temptation to confuse posting and commenting with productivity, at least that has been my experience over on Linked In. As I prepare to post my first publication here, I am acutely aware of how adding another platform might actually reduce my productivity, by engaging in all of the expected behaviors to gain subscribers. I appreciate how you think about this, and I like the slow creator approach. It fuels a bit of my rebellious side too, so that I'm not just doing what is "expected" or mainstream.
I'm in a learning phase so everything is hectic, hyper-focus, on speed-dial... binge working. I'm in the zone. Packing as much in as I can. So yes, there is a sense of algorithmic treadmill in what I'm consuming and learning here on Substack. But I'm doing it with awareness which hopefully means I won't get sucked in and swallowed by it.
And somewhere in my subconscious I'm organising and rearranging thoughts, slotting things into place, finding the shape of the work that is to come. And I know that work will come slowly and with more care because of what I'm reading here.