How Taylor Swift's documentary inspired me to change my creative approach

I didn't expect to have an epiphany watching a Taylor Swift documentary. But there I was, midway through episode 3, when something shifted in me.

In case you haven't seen the Disney Plus series, this is not your typical vanity project and there's a lot creatives can learn from it. Yes, there's plenty of Taylor on screen. But what makes it compelling is how much time is devoted to the people around her: the dancers, backup singers, choreographers and crew who made this monumental, record-breaking tour happen.

Directors Don Argott and Sheena M. Joyce understand that the real story of the Eras Tour isn't just about one woman commanding stadiums of 70,000 people. It's about the collective effort that made those magical nights possible.

• Sign up for Disney Plus here to watch the documentary

The moment that changed me

Episode 3 features a backstage huddle before a show. Backup singer Jeslyn Gorman had to leave the tour after a cancer diagnosis, but after undergoing radiation therapy she chooses to return. Now she's reflecting on what Taylor's support during this time has meant to her.

Jeslyn recalls being invited to Taylor's birthday party, but because of side effects from her treatment, she ended up face-planting in front of the paparazzi. It must been mortifying. But then Taylor introduced her to fellow partygoers in the most uplifting way: "Guys, this is Jeslyn, we sing together."

Jeslyn notes that this is not the usual way huge stars refer to their backup singers. And then she says something about Taylor that's stayed with me ever since. "It just says something about who you are, and how humble you are, and how you like to shed light on other people and make them feel bigger than they think they are."

That line hit me hard. Here was someone who'd been going through hell. But what meant most to her wasn't grand gestures or special treatment. It was being made to feel seen, valued, and bigger than her circumstances.

Why this matters 

I've been working as a writer and editor for three decades. A number of people have told me I've helped them along the way. But watching Taylor systematically elevating everyone around her – not just tolerating them or being professionally polite, but actively making them shine – made me realise how much more intentional I could be.

The doc shows Taylor writing personalised notes to hundreds of crew members and painstakingly sealing each envelope with wax. She suspends her normal rules to let a male performer to fulfil a dream. She pushes herself and Florence Welch back into the chorus line, because the dancers' moves were "so epic" she didn't want them hidden. These aren't isolated moments of kindness; they're a philosophy in action.

And here's where it hit me. I've reached a certain level of success in my own career, but what am I doing with that? Who am I shining a light on?

From now on, I'm going to be more thoughtful about who I seek out. I'm going to ask: 'Whose story deserves to be heard but isn't being amplified? Who's doing brilliant work that no one's noticing?' I want to make people feel bigger than they are, whether that's through my articles, books, any way I can basically.

One of my favourite movies out at the moment is Song Sung Blue; the true story of a husband-and-wife Neil Diamond tribute act. That might sound like an unlikely subject for cinema. But this story has so much grit, heart and hand-on-your-mouth moments, it's inspiring audiences worldwide. Which is making me think: maybe the world needs more stories like this to be told... regardless of whether the people in question are famous or not.

A challenge for us all 

But enough about me; what about you? I think every creative person can learn from Taylor's example here. If you're an art director, when did you last properly champion a junior designer's work to your peers or superiors? If you're an established photographer, are you mentoring someone trying to break in? If you're a successful animator, how often are you recommending others for opportunities you're too busy to take?

We all know how hard it is to get noticed. So maybe 2026 is the year when we put our own imposter syndrome to one side, and lean into what we can do for others. Because let's be honest: if you've made any sort of headway in your creative career, you have something valuable to offer: the ability to make someone else feel bigger than they are.

Taylor Swift, the biggest star on the planet, has built her entire operation around this principle. The rest of us have no excuse not to do the same.

Taylor also taught creatives a lesson about ownership last year when she took back her masters. Read about it here.