when creativity starts to feel like homework

on self-imposed deadlines and other ways to ruin a perfectly good hobby

Jun 03, 2026

quick note: i put off posting this for a whole week simply because i was feeling too unmotivated to make a cute collage to accompany this post. that’s so silly! if you’re only here for cute collages, i have bad news. if you’re here because you enjoy my writing, then you’re cool and i like you and you can safely read on! 💛

(oh, and also — let this serve as a little reminder that if you’re procrastinating a minuscule detail that’s part of a bigger creative project, stop letting that hold you back.)

i didn’t post last week. or the week before that.

which, if you’ve been here for a bit, you know is unusual. since i started dose of hope, i’ve made a conscious effort to post once or twice a week. for a while, the consistency felt good. it felt like proof of my own discipline. proof that i was the kind of person who commits to something and follows through.

but somewhere along the way, it stopped feeling like i was writing. instead, i was just working to meet a deadline. i’d open my laptop because i told myself it was time to write, not because i had something to say.

so i stopped. i didn’t make a formal announcement or declare a creative sabbatical. i just… didn’t open my laptop. then a week passed. then two. and after two weeks, i decided to turn it into an experiment.

i told myself i’d use the time to think. to pay attention to where my attention goes and what inspires me. to see what happens when i remove the pressure of publishing. maybe i’d uncover some profound insight about creativity i could share that would make an impact on everyone who read it.

well, spoiler alert: i didn’t emerge from this break carrying that insight. mostly, life just kept happening. i read a little bit more. i walked my dog. i worked. i watched television. i scrolled on my phone a little too much. sometimes i went to bed earlier than i usually would if i were up writing.

nothing transformative really occurred at all. which led to a different kind of frustration. instead of enjoying the break, i found myself feeling like i’d somehow failed at the experiment i made up in my head.

i gifted myself a whole month without any creative deadlines and then immediately started judging myself for not using that time wisely enough.

shouldn’t i be learning something? discovering something new? turning this into something meaningful to apply going forward??

i know i’ve circled around the premise of not needing to earn rest for so long now. so why would i treat this break like YET ANOTHER project that needed a measurable outcome? have i not already learned not to do this?!

sometimes a month just passes, and that’s okay. sometimes you move through a season of life without extracting a lesson or some neat little takeaway to package up and share with others.

but still… there was so much guilt underneath all of it. like a persistent voice in the back of my head asking questions i found increasingly difficult to answer:

shouldn’t i have something to say?
if i’m not writing, am i even a writer?

that self doubt in the back of your mind is incredibly aggravating when you’re staring at a blank page and trying to will the words to come!!

so by this point in my frustration journey, i started venting to my partner about all of this. i explained how i’ve been taking a purposeful break and how maybe i needed less structure to my writing. fewer goals. fewer self-imposed deadlines.

she very quickly replied, “but would you actually enjoy that? you like to set goals. that’s how you are.” and i realized she had a point.

because the truth is that i do like structure. i like systems. i like goals. i like checking things off lists and finishing one thread before starting another. i’ve spent enough time lately trying to convince myself those instincts are somehow the problem, but they’re not. that’s just how i’m wired.

the realization that followed was obvious (but still annoying).

the problem wasn’t the structure. the problem was that somewhere along the way, the structure became more important than the thing it was built to support.

i built a schedule to protect and encourage my curiosity. and eventually, the schedule became the thing getting in the way of it. the system became the goal.

instead of sharing ideas because they felt alive and exciting, i was looking for something that could fill the slot i’d reserved on my calendar. and that’s not how creativity works for me.

i don’t think the answer is throwing away the system i’ve built. i don’t plan to abandon structure or pretend i’m suddenly someone who thrives in complete creative chaos. i’m not. but i want the structure to hold space for the writing — not stand in for it.

i want to show up here because i have something to say. not because a slot on a self-imposed content calendar told me it was time.

there’s no correct way to be creative. some months you’re overflowing and the words come fast and everything feels urgent and alive. and some months you open the page and nothing is pulling you anywhere, and you close the laptop, and that’s a month.

both of those are allowed. both of those are still writing. and if one month i’m bursting with words and the next i take some time to pursue other creative pursuits—or just to bed rot because i deserve to—then so be it.

i’m still a writer. i just needed a minute to remember that a publishing streak doesn’t get to be the proof of it.

do you ever turn something you love into something you’re failing at? i’d love to know i’m not alone in this one. 💛