It’s only human to fantasise about standing on the Dolby Theatre stage collecting an Oscar or parking your bum on a late-night chat show sofa to promote your latest bestseller. And as we stride into another new year – gaping with creative possibility – our egos will be going ten to the dozen with imaginings of what this one might produce. Of what dazzling creations we could chisel out. The screenplay that’ll break the box office, the book to exert squeals from startled publishers, the ad campaign that’ll get Cannes Lions roaring.

And, of course, a lucky handful of us will. But you might want to take a seat for this revelation; thousands of fistfuls of us won’t. Another year will tick on by in which we haven’t unsheathed that canvas and made Cezanne shudder in his grave. Or got the Guardian frothing out five stars. Or hell, even just had a mere mention in these here pages. And. That’s. OK. No, really.

For creative glory is vastly overvalued. And I’d like to offer up an alternative ambition, by preaching from another gospel. One that promotes the pursuit of creative contentment over creative greatness. That flies in the face of LinkedIn-peppered ‘win at all costs’ advice, instead focusing on self-help for living a happier and healthier creative existence. If Rick Rubin is coaching the next generation of creative disruptors, I’m offering support for those wrestling with the intimidating weight of creative ambition.