The Sneaky Way Procrastination Shows Up for Creative People (And Why It Has Nothing to Do With Laziness)

My studio assistants, Skippy & Mia, assessing my busy work.

I never thought of myself as someone who procrastinates.

Honestly, the word never even applied to me in my mind. I am always doing something. My days are full, my mind is engaged, and I am constantly working on something related to my art. So the idea that I might be avoiding the work? It genuinely never crossed my mind.

Until one morning it did.

I sat down to work on facial expressions for a character in my children's book illustration portfolio. I put in what felt like a solid hour of real work. It felt good. I felt productive. And then I stepped away, came back later that day, looked at what I'd made, and immediately hated it.

And that was it. That was the moment the spiral started.

Instead of pushing through, I went into full research paralysis. I started looking at other illustrators, other styles, trying to figure out what I liked more. I went to the bookstore a couple of times and just sat with children's books, making mental notes. And I never went back to the sketchbook. Not because I forgot. Because I felt like I had failed so hard that my own style wasn't good enough to keep going.

What I didn't realize at the time was that this wasn't an off day. This was productive procrastination. And it is so much sneakier than the regular kind.

When Avoiding the Work Looks Like Doing the Work

Here's what productive procrastination looked like for me in practice.

I knew exactly what I needed to add to my children's book portfolio. I knew the kinds of pieces art directors want to see. I had a direction. The next step was clear: sit down and make the pieces.

But instead of doing that, I kept circling around it. I would do practice runs. I would research illustration styles. I would find a class to take, and then while taking that class I would realize I needed to work on color values, so I would find a class on that. Then I would decide my light and shadow work needed improvement digitally, so I would look for a class on that too.

Every single step felt important. Every step felt like growth.

But at the end of the week, the portfolio pieces still didn't exist.

I was moving constantly. Just not forward.

And on top of that, I was also trying to build a surface design portfolio at the same time, because that also felt important and like it was going to lead somewhere. So now I had two directions pulling at me, and I was making very little real progress in either one.

Hamster wheel. Lots of motion, almost no traction.

The Fear Underneath the Busyness

When I finally sat down and journaled about what was actually happening, something uncomfortable became very clear.

My procrastination isn't laziness. It's perfectionism. And underneath the perfectionism is fear.

Here's the specific fear, the one I hadn't quite named yet: right now, I can hide behind an excuse. I've already been submitting myself for children's illustration work, and when I don't hear back, I can tell myself it's because my portfolio isn't quite presenting what art directors are looking for yet. That excuse is actually a comfort. It gives me somewhere to put the rejection that isn't about me.

But the moment I build the portfolio I know they want to see, the moment I truly put my best work forward, I lose that excuse. And then the answer becomes real. What if I do everything right, and they still don't hire me?

That is a vulnerable place to stand.

And so instead of standing there, I kept refining. I kept preparing. I kept waiting to be ready, even though "ready" didn't have a name or a face or a finish line. It was just this vague feeling of not good enough yet, and I kept chasing it.

The Moment I Caught Myself

What finally broke the cycle was journaling.

When I sat down and wrote honestly about what I had been doing with my time, it became very clear very fast. I could see the difference between real work and work that mimics real work. Research can look like progress. Classes can look like progress. Practice runs can look like progress. But at some point you have to stop preparing and start producing.

And what I saw in my journal was that I had been letting my inner critic decide when I was allowed to move forward. I was waiting for her to give me permission to be good enough, and she was never going to give it to me.

That realization landed hard. And it moved me immediately.

What I Do Once I See It

Once I recognize I'm in productive procrastination mode, I do two things right away.

First, I give myself a specific deadline. Not "sometime soon" but an actual date.

Second, I narrow the task down to one clear, concrete action. Not "work on my portfolio" but something like "create one piece showing character interaction in a children's book scene." That kind of specificity breaks the spell. The resistance starts to dissolve because the task is no longer this big shapeless scary thing. It's just one thing.

And I move into it.

One Question That Always Helps Me Reset

When I catch myself spinning in preparation mode, I ask myself this:

What is the real work I am avoiding right now?

Not the practice. Not the research. Not the preparation. The real work.

And once I answer that honestly, I always know exactly what to do next.

If this resonates with you, if you've been feeling busy but somehow stuck, you might not be procrastinating the way you think. You might just be circling the work you care about most. And that makes a lot of sense, because the work that matters most to us is also the work that makes us the most vulnerable.

You're not behind. You're not lazy. You might just be waiting for permission that only you can give yourself.

If You Want to Watch the Shaping in Real Time

I share this whole stage inside my Patreon, the works in progress, the portfolio building, the experimenting, the refining. It's not polished. It's honest. And if you're building something too, I think you'd feel right at home there.

And if you're feeling lost in the woods right now and need help reconnecting with your North Star, the Starlight Dream Lab is a beautiful place to begin. It's where we do the deeper work of remembering what you're actually building toward.

Keep going, beautiful soul.

When Self-Doubt Creeps In: What I’m Learning as an Artist in Progress

My Tiny Sketchbook of Rage and my studio assistant, Mia (the spicy meatball).

Every artist I know, no matter how accomplished or confident they may appear, wrestles with self-doubt from time to time. I’m in one of those moments right now.

And I want to talk about it—not because I need advice or rescue, but because I think it’s important that we normalize what it’s like to be a sensitive creative in the middle of the becoming.

The Voice of Doubt

My self-doubt doesn’t shout. It’s not dramatic. It’s quiet, calculated, and uncomfortably reasonable. It says things like:

“Your work doesn’t look like it’s getting better. How will this ever become something someone would license?”
“Wow, Artist X has such great command of color, composition, and line. Yours looks muddy and clumsy in comparison.”

It always sounds so factual. So educated. Like it’s simply stating the truth—and that’s the part that stings.

But I’m learning to pause and notice that voice. I’m learning to respond rather than react. Because what I’ve discovered is that self-doubt is just a thought. It’s not the truth.

The Illusion of “Not Ready Yet”

My self-doubt tells me that it’s trying to protect me. It wants me to be “ready” before I put my work out there. It wants me to hit some invisible benchmark—some vague, undefined version of perfection—before I take up space.

But here’s the truth: I’ve been making art my whole life. I didn’t wait for someone to give me permission. I didn’t wait for an art degree. I chose to learn. I’ve committed to growth. I show up for this work, and I take it seriously. That’s what makes me a professional artist—not some imaginary milestone of mastery.

The Comparison Trap

I sometimes find myself scrolling and thinking:

“I’m so far behind. I didn’t go to art school. I haven’t studied like they have. There’s so much I don’t know.”

But then I remember: we don’t all arrive at the same destination through the same doorway. Some of us are walking sideways. Some of us are climbing in through windows. That doesn’t mean we’re behind—it just means we’re taking the scenic route.

And honestly? The scenic route has a better view.

The Practice That’s Helping Me Right Now

Every night, I’m doing quick studies in what I lovingly call my “Sketchbook of Rage.” It’s tiny. The paper is thin. The format annoys me. I bought it on purpose to break perfectionism’s grip. It’s a space where bad art is allowed—expected, even.

The irony? Some of the sketches I’ve made in that sketchbook are the most cohesive and charming work I’ve done in a while. It’s proof that when we take the pressure off, creativity can surprise us.

This blog has also become a place where I sort myself out. Writing these thoughts down—seeing them in black and white—helps me realize that most of my doubts are just ideas I don’t even believe in. They’re like steam. Once they’re released, the pressure dissolves.

If You’re In This Too

If you’re feeling lost or unsure or behind, I just want to say: I see you. I’d give you a big hug if I could. These thoughts don’t mean you’re failing. They mean you care. They mean your inner artist wants more from you, and is maybe afraid it’s not possible.

But I promise you: you’re not behind. You’re in process.

Speak the doubt out loud. Let it show you where you’re hungry for validation, support, or more self-trust. Then get back into the studio. Make something messy. Make something strange. Make something anyway.

Because the only thing between here and the artist you want to become… is not giving up.

Want to Follow My Creative Journey?

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🌟 Join me on Patreon – see my work unfold in real time, vote on upcoming rewards, and support the long-term vision.
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🌀 Get the Dream Distiller – a free tool I created to help you uncover your North Star, from the inside out.
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