Kim Ellis reflects on the lessons learned from designing and delivering Free Spirits LIVE!, a virtual conference for independent L&D professionals. It wasn’t about flashy tech or speaker line-ups, it was about creating meaningful, human experiences. Here, she shares what made it work and why intention matters more than polish.
Have you ever dreamed of putting on your own conference? Maybe seen it as a way to make a chunk of money or raise your profile in the industry? There are plenty of good reasons to put on a conference… but those shouldn’t be your driving ones. When I decided to create Free Spirits LIVE! for the L&D Free Spirits community, I had what I thought was a cracking idea. I’d been running webinars for the self-employed L&D community for a year, and I thought, “I’d love to have a full day for our professional development.”
The best conferences are never really about the organiser
In my blog posts I Had a Cunning Plan and Lessons from Free Spirits LIVE!, I’ve shared the behind-the-scenes stories and lessons learned; the good, the bad, and the moments in between. But here, I want to dig into something more fundamental… why the best conferences, like the best learning experiences, are never really about the organiser.
Design for people, not platforms
At my core, I’m a trainer and designer. And for me, design always starts with the learner. I don’t let the tech drive me. Every tool, format, and feature has to earn its place. If a piece of technology doesn’t serve the learning goal, it doesn’t get used – simple as that. I’ve never believed in shoehorning a course to fit a shiny new platform just because it’s there.
Conferences should be the same. They shouldn’t be built around what’s easiest for the organiser or what tech looks flashiest on the day. They should be built around the people attending, the delegates. Start with them and build outwards from there.
Building something fit for purpose
When I started planning Free Spirits LIVE!, I knew it had to be virtual. Our community includes freelancers and consultants from all over the world, and accessibility mattered more than spectacle. But “virtual” doesn’t mean “one-size-fits-all.” One delegate might crave practical marketing skills. Another might want reflective discussions about identity and confidence. Someone else might just want to chill out for half an hour to take it all in.
I designed it with flexibility at its heart. We built nine breakout rooms, each themed around a different need: niching, connecting, reflecting, and problem-solving among them. Delegates could move freely between them, choosing the sessions that suited where they were in their business journey.
Purpose first, polish second
The keynotes, speakers, skills labs, discussion panels, and sponsor surgeries were all chosen with care. Each one had to add something real for the audience, not just fill a slot. To be honest one of the hardest tasks was limiting the number of sessions we had.
Perhaps a little controversially, we decided not to record the sessions. No AI notetakers. No replays. That decision raised a few eyebrows, but it was intentional. We wanted people to be present, in the moment, in the conversation, not half-listening while multitasking or thinking they’ll just watch the sessions later and not attend on the day.
This isn’t to say we didn’t make a record of some of the sessions, we had Rachel Burnham sketchnoting three sessions and Mark Gilroy was recording a live podcast episode on the day.
The measure of success
It’s easy to measure a conference by the usual numbers: ticket sales, attendance figures, or LinkedIn buzz. But those weren’t my metrics. I wanted to create something that genuinely made a difference for people navigating self-employment, whether they’re just about to make the leap or have been at it for decades.
When the feedback started coming in, the words people used said it all: “supportive”, “informative”, “friendly”, “community-focused”, “fun”, “inspiring”, “empowering”, “considered”. One person said the conference had a “sharing and caring vibe,” which to me is the ultimate compliment.
That was exactly what I’d hoped for, not an overly corporate event, but a space that felt human, grounded, and full of people who just want to see (and help) each other thrive.
Lessons for L&D professionals
If you work in learning and development, you already know the power of good design thinking. You wouldn’t build a programme around what’s easiest for you to deliver – you’d start with what the learner needs. Conferences are just learning experiences on a bigger scale. The same rules apply.
Ask yourself:
- Who are you designing this for?
- What do they genuinely need to get from it?
- How do you remove barriers rather than create them?
- Are you using tech as an enabler, or as a crutch?
When you build with your delegates in mind, you create something that feels personal, relevant, and human. When you build with your ego in mind, you end up with a slick event that looks great but doesn’t change anything, and might just leave people a bit deflated rather than empowered.
Final thought
If you’re planning your own conference, ask yourself: what difference do I want this to make for the people who attend? Because if your answer isn’t “to connect, inspire, and genuinely help others grow,” it’s time to rethink. Conferences, just like great learning, aren’t about showcasing you – they’re about uplifting everyone else.
Kim Ellis is Chief Learning Architect at Go Ginger Learning Solutions, CEO at L&D Free Spirits
