My capacity has shifted greatly since I began.

When I started “blogging” on Substack my kiddo was in Montessori school and I had hours each weekday to do focused and creative work.

Now I’ve taken on home educating a twice exceptional student1 whilst trying to make enough art to regulate my nervous system and find creative community.

I’m doing this with a part time university job (online courses thank heavens) without any child care, baby sitter, or even a family member who can watch our kid for us.

That’s mostly fine, because we’ve reached a stage where Davy is happy to play LEGO while I work or listen to an audiobook while I grade papers.

But the reality is I have much less time than I had a couple years ago when I started. Particularly for projects like podcasting or filming videos. As much as I’d like to do them I need most of the time that I do have (when Nathan is off work) to rest.

Shocking I know. Also…

It takes me a while to realize my shifting capacity means projects need to change shape.

I’m getting better at this. I’m much less likely to push into burn out these days.

BUT I still carry all of those intentions as something I “should” be making. Long form blog posts, YouTube videos, my Neurodivergent Spacetime podcast. (One day y’all!)

To my credit I’ve been making microshifts for a while.

But what I’m realizing is that my output has to change radically. Also…

I don’t really have a creative business. I have a collection of passion projects.

This has been a long time struggle for me.

I fell in with the creative entrepreneur crowd (and made some lovely friends) in my early blogging days. But I carried the “shoulds” from that context for a long time.

• Yes, I’ve self published a book.

• Yes, I put together a Self Publishing 101 course (not to make money really – just because y’all asked).

• Yes, I have a tiny niche community over on Discord.

I’m lucky that lately these have more of less broken even. But none of these were driven by profit.2 They all bubbled out of my creative ecosystem.

To be clear: there’s nothing wrong with monetizing your creativity and making a career out of it. But also…

Why do we only value creativity that is profitable?

I have a whole rant on this that will probably surface as a long form blog post later this year. But it boils down to this…

I’m trying to recenter my creative practice.

I want to continue stripping away “best practices” related to sales and growth. And to align my time and efforts toward what I care most about. Right now that means I want to…

• Make things I’m passionate about (like & the Entwined anthology).

• Spend more time falling into research rabbit holes.

• Allow myself to be the eclectic weirdo that I truly am.

• Stop striving for a “professional” level of perfectionism. (This one is truly hard for me. I usually proofread a bajillion times. You can expect more typos if I’m brave enough to do this.)3

• Publish and archive long form posts on my own website.

This was a very long winded way to say… Things are changing a bit.

Long time readers will remember various “rebrands” and “pivots”, but this time I don’t have a master plan.

I am just figuring it out as I go.

That’s scary. But no matter how much I try I can’t figure this out on my head. I have to do this on my feet.

For now… this email is becoming a monthly-ish digest.

I’ll be sharing a round up of things I’ve added to my digital compost heap (my interpretation of a digital garden). This means you’ll be seeing notes from ongoing research, works in progress, and ideas I’m noodling around with.

Raw and unpolished.

Remember that time my real life compost heap sprouted a papaya tree?

That was wild. That’s just what kind of space for serendipity I want to open up for my creative process.

This week I sorted subscribers into two groups.

One group will get monthly digests via Substack. (That’s probably you.)

One group will get weekly emails from Beehiiv. (If you’d rather weekly emails you can sign up for those here.)

I sorted you based on Substack filters for how active you’ve been and how many emails you’ve opened. (I know adblockers mess up the data so if I guessed wrong please rearrange yourselves.)

This is all an ongoing experiment.

I’m nervous to change email platforms because engagement might go down. Comments keep me motivated and one of my motivations to create and share online is for connection.

On the other hand I’m concerned about Substack becoming noisier. They continue to make choices that are transforming Substack from a blogging platform to a social media. I’ve been considering alternatives ever since they introduced Notes.

This experiment is a middle way.

I’m not keen to grow much larger than I am. I like knowing who y’all are. I like recognizing your names and joyfully replying to comments without feeling like it’s my job.

Before doing the split my stats said 80% of y’all were reading in your email inbox. If that’s true maybe I’m overestimating what Substack is bringing to the table.

There’s only one way to find out.

Originally I intended to write a short introduction to your first monthly digest. Ha! I’ve waffled on too long to do that now. Sorry for the lack of images. That’s not like me. But it’s past my bedtime.4 And I’m not aiming for perfection right now.

I’m just doing what I can.

If you want to see what kind of stuff I’ll be sharing check out my latest update on Beehiiv or grab a shovel and help yourself to some creative compost.

That’s all for now.

I’d love to hear from you if something resonates.

Or share a link to a rabbit hole you’ve been enjoying.

Cheers,

1. What environments does your creativity thrive in?

• Urban or Natural

• Cozy or Open

• Quiet or Busy

• Isolated or Companionship

• Quaint or Modern

This is a good start to give you an idea of where you might go. Then think about practicalities. Sure, an isolated cabin sounds great. But do you really want to cook your own meals? Be sure to consider these practicalities.

• Meals & Snacks

• Local Businesses & Shops

• Transportation

• Season & Temperature

• Cost

Think outside the box. I spent hours looking at expensive Air B&B’s before finding this isolated cabin at an Episcopal church camp.3 It was a welcoming space with a pride flag flying alongside the stars and stripes. It was also super affordable with a really cute Parent Trap aesthetic.

There were also beautiful handmade quilts, a kitchen to do my own cooking, and a screened in porch with a stunning view.

If you can’t manage a getwaway consider spaces at home or in your local community: libraries, gardens, parks, coffee shops. Even a micro retreat (or an “artist date” in Julia Cameron speak) can be so restorative.

2. What does your creative ecosystem need?

Your creativity is more than your productivity.

Be wary of using a “retreat” as an excuse to beat yourself up about output. Think holistically about your creative process and what it is that you need.

I chose not to focus on word count for my writing retreat. I’ve done NaNoWriMo countless times. (Twice for this story.) I know I can bang out words.

But what I really need is time to sink into my story; to do the slow work of world and character building.

You may need something different.

Here are a few themes you could mix & match for your retreat.

• Dream

• Rest

• Read

• Explore

• Dance

• Play

• Paint

• Ideate

• Edit

Or you could choose a muse.

Plan a ready-made retreat by bringing along a creative workbook with prompts.

Some of my favorites are:

Conscious Creativity Workbook by Phillippa Stanton

Steal Like an Artist Journal by

The Wildflower Workbook by Katie Daisy

or… (I’ve literally just realized I should include my own.)4

Discover Your Creative Ecosystem & Workbook by… me.

I probably should have envisioned writing this post specifically to market my book.

I’m still new to this. 😂

3. Pack “too many” books.

Or snacks.

Or paints.

Or notebooks.

Whatever lights you up.

Something I am struggling with for my fantasy novel is really digging in to the research I want to do. Sure, I could have picked 3 books and dutifully read my way front to back through one after another. There are times in my life I would have done that.

But when I started gathering books connected to my novel I wanted to bring them all.

So I did.

The best thing about a solo creative retreat is that no one can shame you for “overpacking.”

I had so much joy in these books. I laid them out on the extra beds and rearranged them like tarot cards. Seeing the beautiful covers next to each other drew connections I hadn’t made before.

Over the weekend I dipped in and flipped around to the best bits.

This is not how I read.

But it was amazingly freeing. I’ll definitely read most of these books back to front. But dipping in and out gave me a better idea of what I can find in each one, how they related to each other, and what might be useful for my story.

I also realized I need to have all of these books close to hand. Tracking them down felt like searching the four corners of the earth. Now they’re lined up on two shelves in the living room so I can continue my work.

4. Embrace your inner kid.

My main goal for the weekend was to generate as many ideas as possible without deciding whether they were “good” or not. A week before my trip I started panicking that I “wasn’t ready.” I realized this was rooted in a vision I had of finishing a book on a retreat. Maybe that’s possible, but that’s not what my book really needs right now.

What I need are ideas.

I have the bones of the story. Some themes. But it’s not quite working. (I can say that, right?)

We shouldn’t be ashamed of our stories not working.

First drafts don’t work. Sometime second drafts don’t work.

My story needs some major structural changes. Trotter to Aragorn type stuff.

Working this out I have a tendency to stay in my head. I spin the same ideas in circles tying themselves up into a gordian knot.

Journaling anxious thoughts about the retreat I quickly saw what I needed was permission to have lots of bad ideas. I’ve holding so tightly to the idea of “good” that I’m freezing my inner storyteller. For some reason I experience this more often with fiction than other types of writing.

So I set out to generate as many story ideas as possible.

Essentially creating a new process along the way.

I packed a bunch of index cards (less pressure than notebooks, right?) and crayons and brush pens. And I started making notes.

Using swooshy brush pens and waxy crayons made it all feel less serious.

I came away with a new creative process and tons of ideas that I can play around with in my story.

You don’t have to use crayons, but think about the tools that are less pressured, that give you sensory joy, or what you loved as a kid. Our inner child has all of our creativity without the harsh inner critic and you’ll have a much better time if they are at the wheel.

5. Go for a walk.

Try not to work the whole time.

During grad school I rented a room at Anam Cara Writer’s & Artist’s Retreat in Ireland. (I was already in London so this was super close and affordable.)

There I was on a gorgeous island and I spent most of my time staring at my laptop pounding out my thesis.

I wasn’t even looking out the window.

The time pressure was due to reasons I won’t go into here, but after I reached a certain threshold I came out of my room. I watched a film with the other artists, went to an Irish pub, a poetry reading, and wandered around on the beautiful trails.

What I didn’t realize at that time was how these things aren’t “rewards.” They are deeply intrinsic to the creative process.

This time around I didn’t pressure myself to spend the whole time writing and researching. I photographed my books on the handmade quilts. I ate chocolate and brewed copious cups of tea. I went for walks around camp and stumbled outside to watch the sunrise. I even took self portraits with a rickety tripod and went for a hike where giant rocks towered over me with lessons I could never find in a book.

Sure, I could have written more words, done more research, cranked out more ideas. But what I’m learning is that there is no end to work.

There’s always more.

So we have to tend to our creative ecosystem as we go.

If you enjoyed this post here are a few ways you can support my creative process.

1. Leave a comment! (This one’s my favorite.)

2. Share this post.

3. Sign up for Self Publishing 101 or join the The Companionship.

4. Subscribe or submit work to .

5. Read my book! (Curious what I mean by creative ecosystem? Start here.)

Kindle Curiosity is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

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Let’s chat.

• Have you gone on a creative retreat? How was it?

• What would your ideal retreat look like?

• How else might you carve out time for your art?

Your project is important and it deserves time and space to flourish.

Even if that seems hard.

Thank you for reading Down the Rabbit Hole. This post is public so feel free to share it.

Share

1

No one wants to hear you complain about your creative getaway, but for full transparency all the good things were balanced out with difficulties related to chronic health conditions and hypersensitivity.

2

Just now my kid is banging quite loudly on something metal in his room. I’m charging forward. This post will probably be imperfect and full of typos. Time to think about my story whilst not being assaulted with sound was something I desperately needed.

3

Camp Mitchell in Petit Jean Arkansas for the curious.

4

I am absolute rubbish at marketing. 😂

March 3, 2024

Every submission connected.

11 out of 11.

There’s some bit of luck in submitting the right piece at the right time.

But I think the real magic was putting myself out there without worrying if I had a “chance.”

This led to…

– exhibiting my art for the first time

– speaking at my first author event

– my first publication in an academic journal

That’s a lot of firsts!

I’m going to share this process – not to brag – but to encourage you to put your own work out into the world.

I meant to share this process in real time, but I quickly became overwhelmed at the amount of admin work involved (emails, mailing art, etc.) and I couldn’t keep up with writing Substack posts too.

Here goes!

I kept track of everything in Notion. If you have the bandwidth I found this really useful because you can resuse / adapt submission materials instead of starting from scratch each time. This way you can build up some momentum.

Submission #1 – NWA Book Fest

Venue: NW Arkansas Book Festival

Cost to Submit: None

The first acceptance I had was to do a book reading and signing at a local book festival (NWA Book Fest). It was a great learning experience which I wrote about here.

Takeaway: Author events are a massive energetic drain.

What I learned was I simply I don’t have capacity for book festivals at this time. This was a very short appearance and it took me quite a long time to recover. So paying to be a vendor for a full day (or weekend) event would definitely push me past capacity.

Here’s a clip of actual footage of me after the event.2

“Success” isn’t worth it if it pushes you into burnout.

Submission #2 – Carve Out Time for Art

Venue: Instagram

Cost to Submit: $25

I considered this application to be a complete shot in the dark.

I was stunned at the invitation to takeover Carve Out Time for Art on Instagram. This one gave me big imposter syndrome, but was actually a delight. This was one of the first acceptance emails that came in, but the takeover itself didn’t happen until much later in the year.

Takeaway: There are more people out there.

Before I did this takeover I pretty much thought “everyone who wants my book already has it so I should stop talking about it.” It’s easy to fall into this trap when growth is slow or nonexistent. Reaching people beyond my normal subscribers brought a breath of fresh air. I made some new friends who followed me here! *waves* And sold a couple copies of my book. Not loads, but it broadened my horizons.

Submission #3 – Stay Home Gallery

Venue: Art Gallery (Paris, TN)

Cost to Submit: $10

Next, my textile piece Maternal Mental Health was accepted to an art exhibition about paradox in caregiving. Here’s a statement from the curator Tara Carpenter Estrada,

“In Together/Alone, the paradox of emotions between “never alone” and “very lonely” felt by caregivers is given the spotlight. The societal devaluing of care-work places the responsibilities of care (and self-care) on individuals. Without structural support, a tension can arise between love and devotion, and resentment or anxiety— the need for alone time, and the need for togetherness.”

Stay Home Gallery is now closed, but you can see the show archived here.

Takeaway: Try to align your expectations with reality.

Because this was my first time exhibiting art outside university I really wanted to travel to the gallery opening. The whole situation was confusing because it was a hybrid show. On one hand it was a physical exhibition at an artist retreat – so I had to mail my work. But the main exhibition was on the Stay Home Gallery website. The physical location was not open to the public and was only seen by the artist residents. So there was no opportunity to visit and see the work in person. I was a bit heartbroken, to be honest, because my expectations weren’t aligned with reality. But it was my first tiny baby step into the fine art world.

Submission #4 – Ought

Venue: Ought: The Journal of Autistic Culture (Grand State University, MI)

Cost to Submit: FREE

The next thing I knew I was being published in an academic journal. My piece, The Benefits of Asynchronous Friendship, exploring my collaborative project with was accepted to Ought: Volume 4, Issue 2 (2023) The Internet. You can read an introduction to my piece (and the concept of asynchronous time) below.

Takeaway: Academic writing = time consuming revision.

I have a lot to say about this one that should probably live behind a paywall, but I found this process very challenging. I’m an academic – my day job is teaching university theatre courses – but I’m a theatre instructor. (Not an autism researcher.) And I’ve never written for an academic journal before.

The challenge came from writing a piece that was “too academic” to be creative and “too creative” to be academic. The editor didn’t quite know what to do with me. They literally said, “it is neither beast nor fowl.” 😂

In the end, we decided to treat it as a creative piece, meaning I had to strip out the research I’d done and root the writing in my lived experience. It was a stronger piece afterward, but the timing couldn’t have been worse. Trying to edit this piece whilst also crowdfunding a picture book almost killed me. If I submit in the future it will be a visual artwork which wouldn’t require revision.

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Submission #5 – Cut, Torn & Mended

Venue: Spilt Milk Gallery (Edinburgh, Scotland)

Cost to Submit: Free to Members

Cut, Torn & Mended was an open call for members of Spilt Milk Gallery including a virtual exhibition and printed zine. I submitted my bricolage, The Mental Load, which I created as a self regulation process after publishing my first book.

View the virtual exhibition or purchase a copy of the Cut, Torn & Mended zine here.

Takeaway: Virtual exhibitions are perfect for large or heavy works that are hard to mail.

There’s no way I could afford to ship this piece due to it’s size and fragility so a virtual exhibit & zine was a perfect fit.

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Submission #6 – Anthropology of Motherhood

Venue: Three Rivers Art Festival (Pittsburgh, PA)

Cost to Submit: FREE

Anthropology of Motherhood Culture of Care was curated by Amy Bowman-McElhone, PhD and has traveled from Pittsburgh Three Rivers Art Festival to Dyer Art Center at National Institute for the Deaf.

This is also the only exhibition I participated in that had funding to pay the artists.

The work that was originally submitted was my 360 VR piece From Where I Stand. Once we started talking about the logistics of the VR headset the curators asked to show My Brain on Motherhood instead. It felt like a double acceptance because they considered both works worthy of exhibition.

I also learned that this work was not the physical object itself, but the video. This makes sense in retrospect, but wasn’t obvious to me until they asked to exhibit the video. I changed the details in my portfolio to list this as a video piece.

Takeaway: Video works are low cost. They don’t require framing or postage and are always “ready to hang” if a screen is available.

I have a few other video WIPs I need to finish up and get into my portfolio. I’m also keeping an old iPad to display works as needed.

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Submission #7 – WoT Idol

Venue: The Dusty Wheel, YouTube

Cost to Submit: FREE

This one was just for fun.

Every submission was aired, but for me this submission was about putting myself out there and doing something for myself outside of my “professional” portfolio.

If you’re new around here I’m passionately dedicated to the Wheel of Time and have recently reconnected to the community. Last April I submitted a WoT Idol parody video turning Wheel of Time characters into Sesame Street style puppets. I wrote about the experience here:

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Submission #8 – Spilt Milk Member Exhibition

Venue: Spilt Milk Gallery (Edinburgh, Scotland)

Cost to Submit: Free to Members

Do you hear us… are you listening? was “curated through an open submission to members, without a defined theme, nor a selection process. All members were invited to have their work included. The process of removing the selection committee allowed for a more democratic way of exhibiting our artists’ works, free of judgement or censoring and for all voices to be heard with equal importance.”

For this exhibition, members were invited to submit two works, and I submitted Meltdown and Meltdown Prevention. It felt like a nice opportunity to exhibit these works together and both were included.

If you’d like to see this exhibition it is archived here.

Takeaway: Exhibitions and open calls can come in many forms.

The way Spilt Milk Gallery includes both curated and member exhibitions is a big inspiration in how I’ve decided to structureNeurokind.

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Submission #9 – Euphoria Quilt Project

Venue: Instagram

Cost to Submit: FREE

When I saw this project by I knew I wanted to submit a block, but I didn’t know if I had time to make one. Eventually I realized I could utilize the crazy quilting skills I’d developed while making my gleeman’s cloak and I made a quilt square from textured scraps.

This piece will be included in a quilt representing gender expansive joy organized by Eliot Anderberg. You can see some of the squares that have been submitted over on Instagram.

I wrote the following about my square, “Embracing into my neuroqueer and nonbinary gender identity means leaning into the fact that I may appear eccentric. I explored that in this project by using the “wrong” side of several fabrics and improvising a “crazy quilted” design. Gender expression is also tied up in sensory experience for me so I also included some soft stimmy textures.”

If you’re new here and didn’t know I was nonbinary maybe give this a read…

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Submission #10 – HNDL Magazine

Venue: Instagram

Cost to Submit: FREE

HNDL stands for Highlighted Neurodivergent & Disabled Life and is a “magazine featuring the work of creatives who identify as neurodivergent, disabled &/or chronically ill”. Give them a follow over on Instagram.

My piece Domestic Archaeology was included in HNDL Issue 2 (Fall 2023).

This was a piece I created with things we found under the couch. I wrote a bit about the process here.

Takeaway: Virtual publications are a very accessible way to share work without printing and framing.

I’m also noticing how this magazine has flexible deadlines which inspired the rolling deadline I implemented over at .

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Submission #11 – Queer Anxiety

Venue: All Street Gallery (New York City, NY)

Cost to Submit: FREE

After such a wild run of acceptance I was sure that this one was going to be my first rejection of the year. You’ll notice this is the second work I submitted to a queer space. I’m a baby queer – only openly identifying as nonbinary, ace, and neuroqueer as of last year. So I felt some imposter syndrome stepping into these communitites, but I’ve been embraced into these spaces with open arms.

There’s something about exhibiting in NYC that feels like a right of passage. Even when I was packing up my work to mail it didn’t feel real. Luckily I had some friends who visited the exhibit on my behalf and documented that it was. (Thanks to everyone who sent me photographs and videos. You can see my work in situ here.)

QUEER ANXIETIES was curated by Blair Simmons, Eden Chinn, Sarah Hallacher, and Shuang Cai.

“Through sculpture, the 13 exhibiting artists make objects that stand outside of normative interpretations of usefulness and conventionality, thereby expanding our worldview and possibilities for engagement. If queerness is an act of making things strange (or challenging norms), strangeness identifies potential points of rupture within social conditioning.”

Takeaway: Submit the maximum amount of works possible (if you can.)

I actually created a new piece specifically for this call, but when I saw that there was the opportunity to submit 3 works I also included Meltdown and From Where I Stand. It’s always nice to give the curator choices.

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Some people have asked how I know about opens calls.

The truth is by serendipity.

Over the years I’ve connected with a variety of artists with similar overlapping interests. Many of them generously share opportunities (often on Instagram stories) which spark my interest.

Huge shoutout to these lovelies who often share art exhibitions and residencies:

, Lauren Frances Evans, Catherine Reinhart, and Ashley Jane Lewis.

And Tamzen Bryant who shared the local book festival.

I’ve also really loved being a member of Spilt Milk Gallery who hosted 2 of these exhibits.

I hope I’ve demystified the process and inspired you to submit your work.

I wish you the best in making work and putting it out into the world.

Follow along on Instagram stories and I’ll share the open calls I find interesting. The next one I’m working on is a piece about roots for Mutterkind.

And if you’re neurodivergent I’d love to see your work submitted to .

It’s not scary. We’re all people making things happen.

Cheers,

P.S. I’m rubbish at marketing, and this has been on my “to do” list for over a year. But I finally made a new footer to remind people I wrote a book / have courses / love comments. 🥰

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I’m a Renaissance Soul so I always have lots of irons in the fire. Here are just a few of the ways that we can connect. (Psst… comments and shares are my favorite. And they’re free!)

1. Leave a comment!

2. Share this post.

3. Sign up for Self Publishing 101 or join the The Companionship.

4. Subscribe or submit work to .

5. Read my book! (Curious what I mean by creative ecosystem? Start here.)

Kindle Curiosity is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

1

We don’t have white walls in our house so I purchased a large sheet of white hardboard from the hardware store. There is a small hole drilled that lines up with a nail in Davy’s nursery where I often hang works to photograph them. I also have a smaller board I can set up on an easel and photograph in the backyard. Light is almost always the problem so I tend to use a tripod for portfolio photos even though I hate them. I also have a small white IKEA table I use to photograph 3D works. Here’s a peek at my set up. It’s a relatively inexpensive solution. If your work is small and lightweight you could probably get away with a piece of foamcore and a pin stuck in, but my larger works have needed a nail to hang from.

2

(That’s Odo from Star Trek Deep Space Nine.) It took a lot out of me.

February 1, 2024

What is a creative ecosystem?

When I talk about creative ecosystems what I mean is expanding your concept of creativity beyond the act of making. Every part of your lived experience makes up your creative ecosystem.

I developed this metaphor to help me build a healthier creative practice. Each element of a natural ecosystem (sun, water, air, etc.) is matched with a creative counterpart (body, mind, environment, and so on.)

Once I began seeing creativity in this way I couldn’t unsee it.

I also noticed a holistic view of creativity was quite countercultural.

It’s an alternative approach to these two common creative traps.

1. One Size Fits All Advice

Too many creative leaders are trying to pass on their specific creative process as if it will work for anyone.

Even my beloved Julia Cameron is guilty of this. The seeds of this idea were sown when I reread The Artist’s Way as a new mum. I knew creativity was an important part of my life and wanted guidance in how to maintain my creative life through new motherhood.

But suddenly, Julia’s advice no longer served me. I was exhausted. I didn’t have the capacity for daily journaling. And it wasn’t what I needed.

What I needed was a nap.

Reaching the end of my rope taught me that caring for my body and my mind is an essential part of the creative process.

I still don’t write or make something every day, and that’s okay. I’ve found a new rhythm that’s working for me. It’s fluid and adaptive and continues to develop over time.

2. Hustle, Hustle, Burnout

For years I’ve been working under the hustle, hustle, burnout template. I would push myself past the edge of my capacity and then crash and burn.

I see a lot of my fellow artists doing the same thing.

There is a growing awareness that we need rest, but it’s often treated like one more thing to squeeze into your to-do list.

What we really need is to rebalance our entire creative process.

Here’s where your creative ecosystem comes in.

Look at the Big Picture

When you stop hyperfocusing on productivity and take a step back you can see that every bit of your life is interconnected. It all serves your creative process.

Instead of following a template created by someone else start paying attention to your own needs. Then, make little shifts that honor your own capacity.

Discover your unique balance of structure and freedom, input and output, solitude and community, and more. Dig into your purpose and why you’re creating. Create rituals for rest and reflection.

When I saw there was more to art than simply making my own creative ecosystem began to thrive.

I can’t make a fun quiz to determine if your ecosystem is a forest or a canyon.

Only you can decide that.

But I have spent two years writing a book to help you start the journey.

Breaking down your creative ecosystem and exploring it one step at a time.

Discover Your Creative Ecosystem is a short read full of inspiring images and prompts to reflect on your personal creative practice. It’s available in hardcover, ebook, and audiobook. There’s also a fully illustrated workbook for journaling or multimedia collage.