On creating for joy

This year, I’m trying something simpler.

I’m not creating for output.
or relevance.
or to prove anything.

I spent a long time making things with a reason attached- to sell, to share, to justify the time. Somewhere along the way, creating started to feel heavier than it needed to be. harder. not meant for me.

So I’m moving smaller.

Small projects.
Small materials.
Small moments of attention.

Things I can finish in an afternoon. Things that don’t need a plan. Things that live in the house- on a shelf, near a window, tucked into a corner of a very normal raised ranch in the suburbs.

I’m not trying to turn my home into something else. I like where I live. I like that it’s ordinary. I like that it holds daily life without asking much of me.

The work I’m making now fits into that life instead of interrupting it.

Sometimes that looks like a handful of beads becoming jewelry for a plant. Sometimes it’s a small drawing that stays in a notebook. Sometimes it’s nothing finished at all.

The point is noticing what feels good to make and stopping there.

I don’t think creation has to be big or brave or impressive to matter. I think it just has to be close enough to reach.

If you feel like trying something (no pressure)

This isn’t a challenge. There’s nothing to post or complete. It’s just an invitation.

Choose materials you already have. Don’t buy anything.

We are going to make something small enough to live on a windowsill or a plant or a shelf you pass every day.

Set a timer for 15 minutes.

Your only job is to start.
You don’t need to like what you make.
You don’t even need to keep it.

When the timer ends, you’re done.

Work at a scale that doesn’t scare you

If large projects feel intimidating, go smaller than you think you should.

Tiny drawings.
Mini frames.
One page.
One object.

Stop before it turns into a job

If you notice yourself thinking:

  • “I could sell this”

  • “I should document this”

  • “I need to do more of this”

That’s your sign to pause. You can come back later. Or not.

Next
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On letting go of who I thought I had to be