I think we can collectively agree that winter (the metaphorical kind) is not always a cozy, hygge-filled retreat with hot chocolate and fuzzy socks.
Not hygge [for those that are required to watch the Frozen Broadway stream on repeat].
Sometimes winter is survival mode. Sometimes it's just… existing. For me, that's been the last few years. Since 2021, I've been in full sponge & float mode: soaking up knowledge, learning new things, trying to keep my head above water while navigating early motherhood + PPD + working full time. I've released a handful of collections (the Wonder Collection, the ABC 123 Collection) but the in-between time? It's been weeks of editing, updating the shop, cleaning up back end blahs..
Lots of back-end blahs. Not a lot of regular painting.
I've been learning, but I haven't had the energy up until now to expel anything.
Which is wild, right? Because I'm an artist.
But also, if you've been in survival mode for any length of time, you know exactly what I mean.
The to-do list takes over. The admin tasks swallow all time. The "I'll get to the creative stuff when I have time" thoughts rule it all. Except you never actually have time, because the real problem is probably prioritization.
(Is that just me? Cool, cool.)
Enter Making Art Work, Emily Jeffords' course I'm working through right now. Module One introduced me to the concept of creative seasons — and friends, I am officially moving out of winter and into spring. New ideas. New energy. New things to try. Ready to expand and grow.
And here's the thing about growth: it only happens if we keep making things, keep trying.
So, no more procrastinating in 2026. I'm setting up regular studio sessions and just going for it — even if I can't think of what to draw, even if it's not "my style," even if it feels rusty at first.
Let me tell you what happened this past Friday…
Inside My Studio
I pulled out some long-forgotten paint, put on a Pilates/Brittany throwback playlist (my 6am pilates instructor always has the most top-notch early 00s playlists, I was inspired), and decided to paint fruit.
Mostly inspired by Bonnie's evening routine of eating a fruit bowl while in the bubble bath. She is who we all aspire to be, honestly. I wanted to capture this little memory.
But first, I had to sit through the usual mental gauntlet:
Will what I create be good? What if it sucks? What if I suck? What if no one wants it? What's the point?
And then — because my brain is very helpful — I proceed to procrastinate until I've suddenly "run out of time" to paint.
Sound familiar?
Here's what I'm learning: the fear doesn't go away. Even with years and years of painting experience, I still get intimidated by a blank canvas. The trick isn't to wait until you feel confident. The trick is to just start anyway.
So if you're stuck in the same spiral, here's what worked for me:
1. Lower the stakes. I didn't sit down to paint something for my shop or my portfolio. I painted my daughter's love of fruit. No pressure. No expectations. Just paint and fruit and vibes.
2. Pick something boring if you have to. If you can't think of something to draw, sketch a corner of your studio. A lamp. Your coffee mug. Literally anything. The point isn't to make a masterpiece: it's to make something. The muscle memory comes back once you start moving. And if you're just starting out, it's how you build the muscle.
3. Put on a good playlist and let go. Once I stopped asking "is this good?" and started asking "is this fun?" everything shifted. I lost myself in it for a bit. That's what I'm after: not perfection, but presence and JOY.
The finished piece? I could critique it to shreds if I wanted to (my inner Miranda Priestly slays). But that was absolutely not the point of it. The point was to feel joy. It was so nice to just make something again.
If a goal feels too big, try tackling a little bit at a time. And most importantly? Enjoy the journey. My end goal is still to be a full time artist, but if I don't find joy along the way, what's the point?
As part of this whole "spring mode" shift, I finally bought some Blackwing pencils, mostly to see what the hype was about, and also because a new writing utensil is a great way to trick myself into writing things down. Writing affirmations, writing goals, writing messy thoughts until they become clear.
Verdict on the Blackwings: they actually are as good as everyone says. And weirdly, I love the pencil smell. Is that just me? There's something about the manual process of sharpening a pencil that gets me out of my head and into my hands.
As a normally strict pen-only girlie (it helps me fight perfectionism, no erasing allowed), this feels like character growth. Or at least a fun experiment.
And then — because the universe loves a good confirmation — a lovely woman reached out and asked if I had any woodland creature watercolor pieces in my shop.
No, but…Oh. Duh.
Of course that's what I need to make next.
I've had woodland creatures in the back of my mind for a while, similar to my safari and jungle animals, but full of frolicking forest creatures. Foxes, owls, raccoons, deer. When her request came through, it wasn't a "yes, I'm sure if one person is asking, ten others probably want the same thing" kind of yes.
It was a visceral yes. A "this is what I'm meant to do" yes.
You know the feeling, right? When something clicks and your whole body goes
yes, obviously, why haven't I done this yet?
When those yeses come through, follow them.
So that's exactly what I'm doing. I'm sketching little woodland creatures, totally free-flow, and I can't wait to dive in more. Farm animals might be next. The point is: I'm making again. I'm following the creative pulls. I'm in spring mode.
And if you're feeling the same pull, like maybe it's time to stop learning and start making, here's your permission slip: go make the thing. It doesn't have to be good. It just has to be made.
What I'm Cooking
We're back to juggling weeknight meals — some require prep the night of, others are totally hands-off all day. Also, all options need to be great as lunch the next day.
Here's what's on rotation when I have no time to cook (or even reheat) when we get home:
- Pinch of Yum's beef stew, set it and forget it. I omit the sugar just for my own tastes.
- Broccoli cheese soup — cozy, creamy, always a hit.
- Chili — I've been liking [this simple Pioneer Woman recipe. Be sure to double the tomato sauce! This has been my previous go-to, but it requires more chopping, so I've moved toward the simpler version in this season of life.
- Chicken enchiladas — use pre-made shredded chicken, add some sour cream and salsa to the mix, roll it up into tortillas, and cover with more salsa, sour cream, and cheese. NOTE: This one does require you to be home to pop it in the oven, but it's still low-effort and makes everyone happy.
What's Inspiring Me
Nathan and I watched the special on the making of the new Harry Potter series, and it's a prime example of niche skills finding their place in the world.
Look, I know JK Rowling is controversial. But the books are still very much part of my childhood and young adult life, and the films (along with this new series) have such an extraordinary production effort behind them that is fascinating to watch.
For example: did you know that the new animatronic owl has 36,000 hand-applied feathers?
So someone had to:
- Know a ton about owl feathers.
- Understand robotics well enough to apply those feathers in a way that made the movements smooth.
- Find this job and apply for it.
If you've got a very specific hobby or knowledge base, the way the world is built now… chances are, you could find a job that supports that skill set.
Someone out there needs your weird, niche expertise. I promise.
The takeaway? Your weird interests aren't a distraction. They're a career path waiting to happen.
What I'm Reading
I'm officially hooked on The Poison Daughter. I'd definitely categorize it as a super entertaining, four or five-star chicken nugget read.
So, what is a "chicken nugget" read?
Let me explain: I have a wide range of five-star reads. To me, five stars equals ultimate enjoyment.
- 5 stars = enjoyed, could not put it down, constantly thinking about it when I'm not reading.
- 4 stars = lots of fun, enjoyed picking it up, but it didn't consume every thought.
- 3 stars = okay enough to finish, not good enough to rave about.
I honestly don't have very many one- or two-star reads… because if a book is leaning that way and I'm not hooked by at least 25% of the way through, it ends up as a "did not finish." Life's too short for bad books.
Back to five stars: I fully recognize that some of the books I couldn't put down aren't… literary Pulitzer Prize material. Which equates to a chicken nugget in the food world: it's not a Michelin-starred experience. However, some days you really just want a chicken nugget with ketchup, am I right? Preferably dino-shaped.
I've started adding food-related reviews to some books on my Goodreads, and it's been deeply satisfying.
Therefore, The Poison Daughter is probably a smashburger, but the kind where there's too much bread and you pick the edges of extra bun off. Innuendos intentional.
Also, I purchased Rites of the Starling and snagged a sprayed-edge copy. That one's up next. I added Yesteryear to my TBR based on Beach Read's review, so we'll see if it lives up to the hype.
Coming Up…
Spring is here. I'm following the yeses. And if something gives you that visceral "oh duh, of course" feeling? That's your signal.
Go make the thing. Even if it sucks. Especially if you're scared it will.
xx, Katie
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