Can’t you just picture it? You quit the day job, set up the dreamy studio, and get busy making anything and everything you want, with people buzzing in and out of your studio, buying your art and paying your bills!  I love that story. But today I’ll be telling you the real one, because it’s realness actually makes it more encouraging. It is less magical at first, for sure – but making a living from your creative work is absolutely possible. It just rarely looks like you think it will.

Join me in this real-time reflection — and see how even the brief pause of one morning can be the difference in living a meaningful life on your own terms, and reaching creative goals you might have rushed past if you hadn’t stopped to think.

Most of us spend our lives in a sort of production mode. We move from task to task, making the things, doing the things, and somewhere in all that churning we stop noticing the small mechanics underneath it all. We're too busy keeping the wheels turning to ask whether the wheels could turn a little better.

I learned this the slow way. After college, I tried to keep my pottery skills up. I signed up for open studio time at a local community college to throw on the wheel, which was a great start. But I was rusty, and I was self-conscious about it. I didn't know anyone else in that studio, so I kept to myself, head down, quietly working.

Create for yourself, from yourself. Not as a destination you're working toward, but as a way of moving through every day — because that kind of creating is more honest, more alive, and so much gentler than the endless striving against what is.

There's a gap in the creative process that separates the people who get good from the people who give up — and almost nobody talks about it. You get inspired — something clicks, you can see what you want to make, your brain is buzzing. And then you sit down to actually make it. It turns out your brain and hands are not on the same page (yet), and reality sets in.

I kept finding myself stuck in this murky realm of in-between — not quite enough energy or willpower to actually reach for it. Maybe next week, you know? What was holding me back from starting those things? Well…the fuel I was running on — chips, scrolling, inertia — wasn't exactly putting the pep in my step.

Instead of mapping out a big action plan or productivity overhaul, today I want to focus on the smallest mindset shift that cracks life wide open for me — when I remember to tune into it. It all comes back to creativity, and how we can channel it daily. And here's why that matters a lot more than it might sound.

When I start to feel brain fog, and a desire to avoid social events, I know it's time to re-center. And what better way to start fresh than to develop the perfect morning routine? Here's the thing, though. I've tried. Many times. The staples of health easily get squeezed out. The solution is designing a routine that protects your healthy habits so thoroughly that you naturally show up to your days in a clearer, more grounded state.

Here's a question I bet you've never asked yourself while making art: What problem am I solving?

Creativity is fundamentally about making connections between a problem and a solution. And when you start approaching your art that way, something shifts.

I kept saying yes to everything until my body said no. Here's what a forced reboot taught me about priorities, boundaries, and The One Thing.

That's SO real, that’s what art should do. Transfer a feeling from me to you, through this beautiful thing, it came through. I’ll be chasing that moment for a long time. 

And then - how DO we chase that moment? It’s not a linear thread, for sure. But in talking to that couple, I was gifted a few clues of how to use connection and sharing your work as a map forward. 

How do you know if you're having too much fun and not taking your art seriously enough? Is silly art still art? The easy answer is yes. But the gold in this question is a bit more nuanced — and it's something I think about a lot in my own studio practice. I am drawn to a certain level of freedom, playfulness, silliness — in art and in life. It wakes me up, makes me laugh. The freedom to exhale, to not cling so tightly to serious meaning and big stakes.

Are you anything like me, and love the euphoria of a good idea, but then halfway down the road you see something shiny — an even BETTer idea — and the next thing you know, you've left a trail of broken projects and art supplies in your wake, without much to show for it? As I see it, there are three challenges that stop us from becoming highly skilled at something. First, picking exactly WHICH thing we want to get really good at. Second, getting stuck in the research or planning phase of HOW to get really good at that thing. And third, staying with it long enough to actually improve.

Inevitably, we can hit a wall, feel a bit flat as we march through the steps over and over. Creative work can fall into the same ruts as any other work in life. We can move on autopilot, pay too much attention to lists, timelines, schedules… and forget the joy and magic and meaning of what we're creating in the first place. Creativity needs sparks. And one of the fastest, most reliable ways to spark it? Pick up a completely different medium.

There’s a reason why I left my desk and came out to the tidy living room to write this blog. My desk is surrounded by pending tasks. Even when “neat,” which is not often, there are piles of papers to file, calendars of future events and tasks, partially completed craft projects, stamps and letters and sticky notes and birthday reminders. 

It’s no wonder my brain goes off to try to mentally tie up all those loose ends. So, how do we solve this conundrum without spending an hour cleaning, then run out of time to write? And - might there be a deeper lesson to learn about how we make decisions…that could help in other areas of life?

Here's something nobody talks about enough: there's a bit of drama out there in the art world — a quiet disdain for the word "hobby" and what it implies. Like if you're not monetizing your passion, you're somehow not serious about it. And on the flip side, going full professional can feel terrifying. Suddenly every piece has to be gallery-worthy, and the stakes feel enormous.

Real hibernation isn't about sleeping through the entire winter (although that sounds amazing sometimes, right?). It's about conservation of energy for survival. It's operating in a lower gear. It's reduced metabolism, which means reduced output—and that's OKAY. Think about what happens underground in winter. Seeds need this cold period to germinate properly in spring. Trees aren't dead—they're doing essential internal work that will allow them to leaf out when conditions improve.

I have always been mesmerized by art museums and galleries. Some paintings I'd breeze right by, but others just pulled me in. The only thing is, if anyone ever asked me about my favorite style, or artists that had influenced me, I didn't have a solid language for describing what I liked and why.

You know that feeling? When you just "like" a piece of art, but you don't really know why, and the conversation kind of ends there? Or someone else shows you a painting they love, and you don't know what to say because it doesn't interest you in the least?

I'm a certified introvert who always shuddered at the words "group project" in school and reveled in long days alone with my own ideas and work. Those solitary days are valuable - we all need different amounts of solitude. But before we bury our heads too deep in the sand, let's look at what we gain from social creating. And it doesn't have to be one of those annoying group projects to provide the benefits.