When the Fixer Needs Fixing

Showing Up for the People Who Always Show Up

Tomorrow, our friend and colleague Wendy Gordon will undergo surgery at the Mayo Clinic. Many of you know Wendy as the producer who quietly makes impossible productions happen. The person behind the scenes solving problems before anyone else even realizes they exist.

Now she’s facing the biggest challenge of her life. After being declared cancer-free last December, Wendy learned just two months later that her breast cancer had returned. This time, the road ahead includes surgery, chemotherapy, radiation, and at least a year away from the work she loves.

When she shared her story publicly, this sentence made me want to share her story:

“I’ve always been the person behind the scenes, quietly making things work. I am the fixer. But through this journey, I’ve learned that letting people in and asking for help is its own kind of strength.”

I imagine many of us read those words and saw ourselves. Because that’s who our industry is. We’re problem solvers. We show up. We figure it out. We make the impossible happen.

But what happens when life hands us a problem we can’t solve ourselves?

That question kept leading me back to an article by Mary Dail, President of the AMA and Founder of Big Leo Productions. Mary writes about the sudden loss of her husband and what it meant to continue leading her agency while carrying profound grief. Her story is different from Wendy’s, but together they point to the same truth: in a freelance creative career, life doesn’t pause when we need it to. I’ll share a link to Mary’s essay below because I think it’s one every creative professional should read.

Mary and Wendy’s stories made me stop and think about something many of us don’t think about nearly enough. As independent business owners and freelancers, what happens if one day we simply can’t work? Who keeps things moving? Who steps in? How do you prepare for something you hope you’ll never need to prepare for?

Their stories are deeply personal, but the questions it raises affect all of us.

Most people outside our business don’t realize how differently creative careers are built. We don’t receive salaries every two weeks. There isn’t unlimited paid leave. There usually isn’t someone waiting to seamlessly step into our role.

Photographers work when they’re shooting. Stylists work when they’re styling. Producers work when there’s a production. Whether you’re an assistant, digital tech, rep, retoucher, or any other independent business owner or freelancer, we all rely on the next assignment becoming the next paycheck.

It’s one of the things I love most about our industry. We are independent, entrepreneurial, and resourceful. We build businesses around our talent, our relationships, and our reputations.

But all of that can change in an instant.

An illness. The loss of someone you love. A parent who suddenly needs care. A child facing unexpected challenges. A mental health crisis. Or simply a season when showing up every day isn’t possible.

When life takes an unexpected turn, the challenge isn’t just emotional. It’s also financial and professional. Clients still need work completed. Campaigns continue. Relationships continue to evolve. The industry keeps moving, even when we need it to slow down.

That’s not anyone’s fault. It’s simply the reality of being an independent business owner or freelancer.

Which is exactly why community matters so much.

Over the years, I’ve watched this industry show up in extraordinary ways. I’ve seen people rally around colleagues who lost their homes, replace equipment that was stolen, recommend work to someone trying to get back on their feet, contribute to fundraisers, and continue checking in long after everyone else had returned to their own routines.

Those moments remind me that while we may work independently, none of us truly does this alone.

Tomorrow, Wendy begins another difficult chapter.

She shared that during her first diagnosis, she tried to carry everything herself because she was afraid people would see her differently.

This time, she’s chosen something much harder. She’s chosen to let people in. I admire that tremendously.

If Mary’s article reminds us to think about how we prepare for life’s unexpected turns, Wendy’s story reminds us why community matters when those turns come.

If you have a few minutes today, I hope you’ll do two things.

If you have a few minutes today, I hope you’ll do two things.

First, if you’re able, consider supporting Wendy’s GoFundMe or simply sharing her story. Tomorrow she has surgery, and I can’t imagine a better time for our community to remind one of its own that she doesn’t have to fight this battle alone.

Wendy, we’re all thinking about you tomorrow. We’re rooting for a successful surgery, a smooth recovery, and the day you’re back doing what you love; producing extraordinary work and, perhaps just as importantly, getting back on the tango dance floor again!

Second, I hope you’ll take a few minutes to read Mary Dail’s article. Her reflections on grief, leadership, and the importance of community beautifully complement Wendy’s story and are well worth your time.