The Rewards + Risks of Embarking on a Creative Endeavor
Thoughts on committing to a 100-day project, recovering voice, handling self-doubt other saboteurs, and creating anyway
A Rejection and Death of a Dream
I applied to a state art school during my senior year of high school. I was rejected. As a successful academic student with high honors, a high GPA, and at the top of my class, etc., I honestly hadn’t been prepared for such a rejection. While I had enrolled in every art elective in my small-town high school, I hadn’t devoted as much time to art as I had to academics. Not knowing I’d need a portfolio to include with my art school application, I scrambled to throw something together at the last minute.
This art school rejection was one of my first creative wounds. And this wound worsened and opened deeper when someone close to me responded to my disappointment by scoffing, Did you really think you’d get in?
My art school rejection turned into the death of a dream1, and art became a scoffed-at a hobby I didn’t have time for.
Have you ever experienced the death of a dream or rejection that left you with a wound?
A Resurrection and Renewal of Life
Fast forward 20 years to February 2023.
(Those twenty years included a decade of burying my creative self, colliding with a decade of cascading Great Losses, followed by a time of unearthing and resurrection.)
In February of 2023, I had already been on the journey of creative recovery for several years. I’d focused mainly on my writing life while still dappling in various artistic practices for enjoyment and healing.
That month, I decided to join a month-long creative challenge on Instagram that sounded fun and significantly changed my life.2 Each day, for the entire month of February, I committed to writing a haiku and creating a “sketch.”
Initially, I had hoped this challenge would motivate me to consistently connect with my creativity on a daily basis. But the fun little social media challenge surpassed my expectations. It ignited a creative awakening in me. It led to discovery and changed the trajectory of my creative life in beautiful ways.
In playing with a variety of art mediums, I found one that didn’t feel forced but instead flowed. I experienced a creative flow and healing spiritual connection as I painted with oil pastels, unlike anything I’d experienced before.
Oil pastel painting wasn’t just a healing spiritual practice. It wasn’t just a hobby. It became something I felt divinely compelled to do and share. And so I did. To the point where I found the courage to call myself an oil pastel artist. To the point where the creative entrepreneur in me created an art page on my website, and I released two mini-art collections last year (both selling out in the first 24 hours).
Just as returning to writing brought me back to life after loss, so has art.
These two practices complement one another, and in practicing both, I feel more balanced and whole.
Staying connected to my writing and staying connected to my art isn’t always easy, but it is essential.
Is there a creative practice you loved as a child that you left behind long ago? Does it still sound fun to you? What would you need to return to it?
Enter 100 Days of Prose + Pastels
This month, I decided to do something similar to help me stay connected to my words and art—and challenge myself a bit more. Starting on February 1st, I committed to 100 days of what I’m calling “prose + pastels.”
Every day, for 100 days, I plan to write some words (maybe a poem or maybe just a sentence), and I’ll create an oil pastel mini painting.
Does 100 days sound daunting? Yes, it does. More on that in a minute.
I’m a week in as I write this, and I’ve already started sharing in my Instagram stories and feed.3 Eventually, I will release some of the originals to my shop and maybe even add some prints of the prose to accompany them.
My thoughts so far?
The creative process never ceases to amaze me, meet me, and confound me.
I’m grateful I’m embarking on this endeavor.
Now, maybe 100 days does not sound fun to you. Maybe it even repels you. And that’s all understandable. For me, this is fun and life-giving and where I’m feeling led which is why I’m choosing to follow this path.
If you could choose any creative practice to try for fun for 100 days (or maybe 30 days), what would you choose? What would you hope to receive from such a creative challenge?
Healing Wounds and Handling Saboteurs
Every time I write or paint a piece, I’m recovering my voice. Years into my healing journey, I’m still healing and struggling with wounds related to my voice. Sometimes I feel like I have a case of laryngitis—like my throat is parched and scratchy, and I can hardly muster a word. Words can still feel trapped in my throat. The inner things that want to be expressed sometimes don’t feel safe to do so.
I’m here to create a safe environment for expression. I’m here to soothe those scorched places with honey. I’m here. I’m here listening. I’m here connecting. I’m here reclaiming my voice.
Creativity is a safe outlet for connecting with and expressing my voice.
I think it’s important I share that not everything I write or paint is shared. I do a lot of personal processing privately. And I do create to give voice to the things that are asking to be expressed and shared.
While I find so much life, energy, healing, and hope in my creative practices, and in this 100 Days of Prose + Pastels self-imposed challenge, I do have to face and handle saboteurs that try to sabotage this endeavor. These saboteurs show up as self-doubt, imposter syndrome, people-pleasing tendencies, the inner critic (Censor, spiritual enemy), scarcity mentality, and the like.4
I’m noticing those. I’m naming those. And I’m choosing to create anyway.5
Because I believe that creativity is a spiritual act that not only heals but also pushes back against the dark forces of the world that want to steal, kill, and destroy anything in their path. And I want to do that. I want to push back the darkness in my life and yours.
As I’m creating, I’m tapping into all the awesome associated with creativity. The creative process is awesome. Creative flow is awesome. Creative joy is awesome. The spiritual connection is awesome.
But still sharing can feel less awesome. Sometimes after I create and share, I want to shrink back and hide. I get a little bit of a vulnerability hangover.
If I’m honest, I’m afraid…
Afraid I will annoy people with 100 posts of my prose + pastels.
Afraid others will think my writing + art sucks.
Afraid people will get bored.
Afraid people will mute, unfollow, unsubscribe, and leave.
But even if some of those fears come true—because there’s a really good probability that they will—I’m still going to create anyway. Of course, I want my words and art to connect with you and others, but I’m learning to be okay if they don’t. I’m tired of the painful wounds I have related to striving to be heard and feeling unheard. This is me laying that down and hearing myself and listening to our Creator.
What fears or saboteurs try to get in the way of your healing or creativity?
About that daunting number 100…
For me, this is where the scarcity mentality chimes in and shows up as the fear that I will run out of words and ideas next week. That I can’t possibly keep this up for 100 days.
I’m taking those thoughts captive. Much like the helpful approach found in AA that also relates to the advice found in Matthew 6:34, I am going to focus on this day. I’m not going to think about the next +90 days right now. I’m practicing presence on day 7, the day I’m in. I’m also reminding myself that I’m not stirring up ideas out of nowhere. I’m approaching this as a divine listening practice. I’m asking myself:
What is there to hear in this day and how can I transcribe that?
Your turn…
Has anything here prompted you to start or return to writing or creating as a way of healing and hope in your life? Let me know! I’d love to hear what resonated and answer any questions you might have in the comments.
A possible next step for you…
Join me and others in the Pen & Mend community (for paid subscribers) in the P&M virtual writing room this Friday, February 9th at 9 am PT/ noon ET. Give yourself an hour devoted to your writing (or other creative practice). Find the invitation and details here.
The creative challenge was hosted on Instagram by @brookepetermann_art and was called #haikuandsketchchallenge.
I’m attempting to capture the journey and an archive of the 100 pieces of prose and pastels in an IG highlight if you’re interested in having a look.
Julia Cameron has an awesome book for this if you haven’t heard me share about it yet called The Artist’s Way.
Thank you for sharing yourself with us. I cannot wait for the print shop! ❤️ we all benefit from watching you make space for healing through art.
Thank you so much for sharing. Your paintings and corresponding prose are beautiful. I have found that poetry tumbles out of me when I'm processing grief and also feeling love. So I guess I write long form when I'm expressing thoughts and opinions, and write poetry when I'm expressing emotions.