She Works 20 Hours a Week, Charges What She Wants, and Her Christmas Card Beats Any Ad

A conversation with Elizabeth Creighton, founder of Brazen: on building a fractional UX research practice that actually works

She Works 20 Hours a Week, Charges What She Wants, and Her Christmas Card Beats Any Ad

When I first went out on my own, I had a short list of people I wanted to talk to.
Elizabeth was at the top.

She didn’t just give me advice. She handed me a proposal template… a real one, pricing logic baked in, nothing held back.

I opened it on a plane to Hawaii, four years ago, somewhere mid-Pacific. I never work on planes. I’m not someone who opens a laptop at 30,000 feet. But I had it pulled up before we hit cruising altitude, furiously building out my first real proposal somewhere between the clouds and the ocean, with nowhere else to be.

That’s the kind of person she is.

Elizabeth Creighton has a PhD in Cognitive Psychology, founded Brazen in 2017, and built a UX research consultancy that’s done work for Shopify, Mozilla, Instacart, Wealthsimple, Bumble, Autodesk, and more. She runs it mostly solo, mostly under 20 hours a week, and has taken two full maternity leaves without the business falling apart. She also teaches, courses on Maven, published with O’Reilly, training designers and PMs to do their own research.

We talked for about an hour.


“I Didn’t Really Have a Plan”

I asked Elizabeth if the 20-hours-a-week thing was always intentional. She laughed.

“I definitely didn’t envision myself working nine to five every day. But at first I wasn’t even sure I’d get 20 hours of work. It was just very unclear how quickly I’d get clients.”

What I find interesting is that the model wasn’t designed. It emerged. She figured out early that most research projects have natural breathing room: planning weeks are light, fieldwork weeks are heavy. The trick is staggering projects so the busy weeks don’t stack.

“Some weeks I’m running back-to-back interviews and it’s really intense. And then the weeks where I’m just writing a discussion guide or setting up Calendly, that’s like a handful of hours. So I try to Tetris my projects together.”

She’s currently running a little hotter than usual. One client has her on a three-day-a-week arrangement, more embedded than her typical project-based work. But she’s intentional about when that’s okay.

“I like this client. I don’t want to lose them. So I’m fine with going a bit over. But I know July will slow down, and I’ll breathe again.”

That’s a healthy relationship with overload. She’s not resisting it out of principle; she’s managing it with context.


How She Actually Gets Clients (It’s Not LinkedIn)

This was the part that caught me off guard.

Elizabeth does almost zero active business development. No cold outreach. No ads. Barely any LinkedIn posting.

“Almost all my business comes from referrals. And I do almost nothing to nurture that aside from one thing: a Christmas card. Just an email in December. It’s not even supposed to be marketing.”

Every January, multiple clients respond to that email and reach out about new projects. The card has a photo of her kids. There’s a donation made in clients’ names. It’s warm. It’s personal. And apparently it prints money.

She also has a newsletter, sporadic but useful. When she’s not busy, she writes it. When she is, she doesn’t. And that’s fine.

“I’ve gotten some work through it. But I’m not precious about consistency.”

The lesson: visibility doesn’t require volume. A handful of warm, genuine touchpoints outperform a content grind every time.


Does the PhD Actually Help?

I asked whether her PhD makes her more efficient.

She did not let me off easy.

“I took a very long time to finish my PhD. So it did not teach me great time management.”

What it does give her: credibility, especially with certain clients.

“I have one client right now who writes ‘Doctor Creighton’ in every email. He’s very tickled about it. I think it genuinely helps, especially as a woman, having that extra bit of clout.”

She’s also honest that the research skills themselves are what matter day-to-day. The PhD is a door-opener, not a workflow optimizer. Though she notes the conference presentations and paper-writing gave her strong communication skills she still draws on.


Breaking Into Enterprise: One Tweet Did It

I asked how she landed Mozilla, Shopify, Instacart, Wealthsimple. The answer was more accidental than most people would expect.

“I tweeted that I was starting my consultancy, back when Twitter wasn’t a cesspool, and immediately someone I knew from a book club in Chicago messaged me. She was now at Mozilla, they needed research on e-commerce, and I’d just left Shopify. That one tweet opened the door. I’ve done 12 projects with Mozilla since.”

The pattern holds across her whole client list. Someone moves companies. A referral shows up. A past client’s contact knows her name.

“I worked with TWG, and then they got bought by Deloitte. So now Deloitte is on my resume, and I technically never applied for anything.”

The enterprise credibility flywheel is real: Shopify gets you Mozilla; Mozilla gets you the next one. Each logo unlocks the next.


On Labels: Consultant, Not Freelancer

I asked Elizabeth how she labels herself. She went straight to consultant.

“I almost never say freelancer. I feel like I can charge more money as a consultant. And having my business under a business name, Brazen, makes it feel more like that.”

The word fractional has become common recently, but she was doing the thing years before the label existed. What she’s doing at Bumble right now, running all the research for one team, three days a week, while maintaining two other clients, is textbook fractional. She just didn’t need the word.

The practical distinction she draws: it’s not about hours. It’s about whether you’re accountable to a deliverable or accountable to a team’s ongoing outcomes.


Two Maternity Leaves, and the Business Survived

This was the most honest stretch of the conversation.

Elizabeth has taken two full maternity leaves while running Brazen solo. The first question most people ask is “how did you make it work?” But I asked what actually fell apart.

“I’m in Canada and you normally get government maternity leave pay, but only if you’re paying into EI. My business doesn’t. So I watched my bank account go down every month. That was hard.”

She still paid herself her regular salary, drawing from savings. It worked, but it made her nervous.

“I was always scared clients would forget about me. And then when I came back, I sent an email letting people know I was back, and I got projects from that email. That was enough to restart the engine.”

What she did help build, almost by accident: a Slack group of about 30 women who do research consulting. When work came in during leave, she passed it to them with a small referral fee.

“Mostly I just wanted to be nice. But it came back around.”

On her first leave, she took on one small project before she was ready. She described having “a few breakdowns” trying to juggle research work with a baby who didn’t nap on schedule.

“It felt great to use my brain again. But it was really stressful.”

The honest takeaway: you don’t need elaborate infrastructure. A genuine email announcing your leave, and another announcing your return, will do more than most tactical systems people build.


What Becoming a Parent Changed

This part of the conversation surprised me.

Before kids, Elizabeth and her husband Tom (also a designer/writer, they share an attic office) could work at odd hours, go to coffee shops at night, flex freely. That’s gone now.

“Dinner time is such a thing. Bedtime is such a thing. And by then you’re dead. I don’t typically want to work at night anymore. It’s made me feel less flexible.”

But it also sharpened her goals.

“It’s made me want to work less and make more money. And retire in the not-too-distant future. Maybe around 50.”

That’s not a resignation. That’s a cleaner definition of success. Less optimization for busyness, more optimization for freedom.


On Pricing: There Are No Rules

I asked Elizabeth what she wished someone had told her earlier. She paused, and then:

“You can charge whatever you want. You don’t have to have an equation. You don’t have to have a reason.”

She does use an equation. It’s a detailed spreadsheet where she breaks out every micro-task in a project, assigns hours, then multiplies by a rough hourly rate adjusted for company size. But the number she gets isn’t the number she charges.

“I was once pricing a project for a huge company. I did my math, and then I just added ten grand onto it for no reason. They accepted it. The project fell through for other reasons, but price wasn’t the problem.”

Her framing: if something is low-effort but high-value to the client, price on value. A survey might not take many hours to design and analyze, but if the insights drive a million-dollar product decision, it’s worth far more than an hourly rate suggests.

“Maybe the spreadsheet spits out five grand. But I price it at thirty.”


The One Piece of Advice She Always Gives

Every time she talks to someone starting out, it comes back to the same thing:

“Always have a contract. And if a client sends you their contract, read it. Even if it’s fifty pages and looks immovable, object to anything you don’t like. Even enterprise clients will almost always make changes.”

She watches for three things: non-competes (usually unenforceable, but she won’t have them), indemnification clauses she doesn’t agree with, and no language protecting her if a project gets killed mid-stream.

“If they kill the project, they still have to pay me. That needs to be in writing.”

She takes 50% upfront on almost every project. The deposit is technically due to start the project, but she’s not rigid about waiting for it before the first meeting. She just needs to know it’s processing.

“I’m a bit nicer than ‘I won’t talk to you until I see money.’ But it still has to happen.”


On AI: Using It, Not Panicking

When Elizabeth came back from her second maternity leave, she felt behind. A lot had changed. Her response wasn’t to panic. It was to take a course.

She studied with Caitlin Sullivan, a consultant who built a Maven course on incorporating AI into research analysis. That course changed how Elizabeth works.

“I use Claude for a lot of stuff now. I upload interview transcripts, get them cleaned, then run analysis through a set of parameters and checks I’ve built. I can also just query it like I’m talking to a research intern. ‘What did this person say about X?’ And it’ll find it.”

Her quality bar hasn’t dropped. She still goes back and verifies things. But she’s spending less time, and the clients (especially the more AI-forward ones) are expecting faster output as a result.

“Some clients use AI quite a lot and they encourage me to use it. Which means they probably expect more done in less time. Which is fine, as long as the work is good.”

Where she does worry:

“Clients who’ve never worked with a real researcher might not understand that you can’t just run transcripts through AI and ship it. You still need a human doing pretty rigorous and complicated checks. I worry some clients will think they can skip that.”

Her practical advice for anyone starting out with AI in research: write down your entire analysis workflow in granular detail first. What do you actually do, step by step? Once you have that, you can build it into a set of skills that Claude can repeat reliably.


What’s Next

Elizabeth is heading into the second half of the year with two longer-term embedded engagements with Bumble and Autodesk. That’s unusual for her; she typically runs shorter, discrete projects.

“I think I’ve been gravitating toward longer-term clients partly because of nervousness about AI. Not panic, but maybe it’s nice to have clients who want you around for a while, just in case things shift.”

She wants to take more vacation. She wants to keep enjoying the work. And at some point, maybe in her early-to-mid 50s, she’d like to stop working entirely.

“I want to make enough money that I don’t have to work. I’ll probably still want to, but I want the choice.”


A Closing Thought

When I asked if this was the life she imagined when she started, Elizabeth didn’t hesitate.

“It’s exactly what I wanted. If you’d told grad-school me, making 24 grand a year, that this is what I’d be doing, I would have been absolutely shocked. And it’s great.”

There’s a version of the independent consultant story that’s all hustle and grind and LinkedIn posts and personal branding. Elizabeth’s version is quieter. Referrals from people who genuinely like her. A holiday card that converts better than any ad. Projects Tetris’d together so she can pick up her kids at dinner.

She’s not selling a lifestyle. She’s living one.


A lot of what Elizabeth described, the staggered projects, the breathing room between fieldwork and delivery, the Tetris logic, is part of what I’ve been thinking about with Juggle. It’s a tool I’m building for independents and small studios to manage exactly that: the rhythm of overlapping client work, without losing track of capacity or momentum.

If that’s the kind of problem you’re trying to solve, I’d love for you to take a look. We’re opening up the beta, and I want people in the room who actually run a practice like this.

Join the Juggle beta


If you’re running your own practice, I’m curious: what’s your version of the Christmas card? Hit reply.

Elizabeth Creighton runs Brazen, a boutique UX research, strategy, and training consultancy based in Toronto. Find her teaching at Maven.

Thanks for reading,
Gev