When you’re about to take a reluctant summer sabbatical, you want to step out on a high note. You want to leave wise words for anyone who happens by while you’re away, something a little more pithy than “Back soon, thanks for dropping by.”

This will be my last post until September. It’s a few days late (and for those of you who were wondering, yes, there are still issues with the feed).

As I sat working on a number of uninspiring first drafts, this little gem drifted by on my Twitter stream, from @Marelisa:

“It takes as much energy to wish as it does to plan.”
—Eleanor Roosevelt

And within minutes, from @escapeintolife:

“You must live in the present, launch yourself on every wave, find your eternity in each moment. Fools stand on their island opportunities and look toward another land. There is no other land, there is no other life but this.”
— Henry David Thoreau

Puts a few things into perspective, doesn’t it.

If only it were as easy as tacking a couple of inspirational quotes on your bulletin board.

Let me share a little secret: sometimes I want to grab very talented people by their lapels, look deep into their eyes, show them all my teeth and say, “Will you just stop underselling yourself already? This is your freaking profession!”

But it’s not as easy as that, either. Plus scaring people isn’t great for business.

It’s not just how—it’s why
If you’ve followed The Studio Source for any length of time, you will have noticed a recurring theme. There are fewer step-by-step how-to marketing articles in favour of fixing faulty thinking, or shifting to your desired customer’s buying space. And for good reason.

You have to wrap your head around the emotional stuff—your own self-doubt as well as what is most appealing to your best customer.

We’re odd, neurotic creatures. All of us. Society’s attitude towards “artists” isn’t necessarily encouraging, either. Being an artist is a wonderful, sexy idea—until you claim it as your profession. Then the barbarian hordes either smile indulgently, as if you’re trying to learn to tie your own shoes, or treat you like some kind of money-sucking blight on the cultural landscape. To add insult to injury, after curling their collective lip at you, they happily trot off to HomeSense to buy some discounted factory-made piece of crap to stick on their walls or decorate their shelves.

Not that I have an opinion or anything.

It’s hard to move forward with that ugly movie playing in your head. Even the most inspiring how-tos turn thin and pale if you can only see the woman who thinks art is something she buys at the mall, or the guy who believes owning the latest version of PaintShop Photo Pro makes him a designer.

You really get into trouble when you lose sight of why you do what you do. Why you chose your profession, your self-created job, why you decided to build a real, sustainable business.

Commit
You hear the message to follow your passion, but that message is often a half-truth. It’s only partly true because passion is part of the picture. Choosing a profession means you get the whole pie, not just the juicy stuff in the middle. The idea of passion, like the idea of being an artist, isn’t enough. Too many of us, thoroughly trained to recite snappy slogans like mantras, confuse passion with pleasure. Because we don’t want to face the dirty secret about following your passion.

Passion—real, grown-up passion—is not always fun. Sometimes it’s damned hard. It can keep you up at night. Sometimes it can break your heart.

But it’s not supposed to be frolicking-in-the-meadow fun. That’s not what passion is about.

Passion is about sticking with it. It’s about doing everything necessary to make that last assault on the summit, push past mile 25, and kick over every obstacle you come to, even if your knees are bleeding and you’re scared to death.

Passion isn’t freedom from fear. Passion is bigger than fear.

Doing what you love doesn’t have to be about money
If you want to follow the pleasure path, enjoy your avocation. Pick it up whenever the mood strikes, dabble, shrug off the little setbacks, and don’t beat yourself up about it. It’s not necessary.

If you don’t want to turn your lifetime obsession into a job, with all the requirements of any viable business, don’t do it. Don’t even consider it.

I’m an avid gardener. No, that’s not true. I’m a rabid gardener. People have suggested I become a professional landscaper or start a greenhouse. It’ll never happen. I won’t turn something I do for myself into an obligation.

It’s not just pleasure. It’s hard work. But I get twitchy if I can’t do it.

And I don’t need to turn it into money. I have other ways to earn a living.

Respect your profession
I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve reminded friends and colleagues they’re running a business. That other professionals don’t fret about pricing, or treat themselves and their work with disrespect. You can’t turn your work into a skeleton that won’t stay in the closet and expect to be successful. Or stay sane, for that matter.

Yes, I get it. The marketplace is big, bad and ugly. People make stupid comments, balk at prices, yadda yadda.

Those people aren’t your customers. Their passion lives in another place. Walmart, maybe. Or reality TV.

Forget them.

Find the people who get what you do. The people who want good stuff, not cheap stuff. Their passion lives where you do.

Have your say
Are you guilty of underpricing? Are you secretly (or not so secretly) nervous about your work? What would turn that around? What made you choose your profession?

Related posts:

1. Demystifying features versus benefits
2. How to start a revolution
3. The ins and outs of your first impression (part 1 – work in)

Many creatives I know are also involved in arts organizations. Some serve on the board of directors, some on committees, and others volunteer or donate to special events. Today’s post is written by Maureen Carruthers, who works in the nonprofit sector. When I met Maureen, I was immediately impressed by her thoughtful commitment to her work and her dedication to her community. She has some words of wisdom for both artists and arts organizations to help keep up your mental momentum.

- – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – - – -

If you spend any amount of time on the internet, you know there is no shortage of advice on how to make your life, business, and art better.

Most of that advice is about all the new things you need to do to keep up. Blog more often, take more classes, create more genuine relationships—more, more, more.

It’s a lot of pressure. So much that it’s easy to believe you will never be good enough, never know enough, never make enough impact. From that place, one starts to wonder if it’s worth trying to move forward at all. All the well meant advice about how to get better, actually stops us in our tracks.

The same thing happens to organizations.

Look forward and engage
Nonprofit work can feel like shoveling sand off the beach. We create new exciting work, we look for unique ways to engage the community, we reduce ticket prices and fees for service, raise more money to serve more people, and yet, at the end of the day, there is so much more to do—the beach looks exactly the same.

But that’s because we always look toward what’s left to do—the parts of our community we have yet to serve.

In order to keep moving forward, sometimes we have to turn around.

Look back at what you’ve accomplished
Instead of only looking at what’s ahead, refocus some attention each day on the work that’s been completed. There will always be more people to help, new audiences to reach, emerging problems to be solved. But the fact that the task is big, doesn’t mean progress is not being made.

Whether you are an artist who spends most of your time in your own studio, an artist working as part of a larger organization, or even a person who doesn’t identify as an artist at all, it’s essential to treasure your success. These celebrations don’t have to be large. Hang your best work in your studio. Post thank you notes where you will see them every day. Pay attention to the complements people pay you–and write them down so you can revisit them during more difficult times.

Celebrate
Making time to celebrate is not indulgent. It’s not a signal that you are done, or an invitation to rest on your laurels. It’s a necessary part of tackling lofty goals. These small moments of celebration create space for renewal—and renewal is what makes it possible to turn our attention back toward the future and to keep shoveling.

About the author
Maureen Carruthers is passionate about helping nonprofits achieve their missions. For advice and inspiration on helping your favorite nonprofit be heard, including how volunteers can help, visit her blog, Low Hanging Fruit.

Related posts:

1. Look back, move forward – legacies and resolutions
2. If you’re a creative, you can craft great marketing materials
3. Practice the fine art of letting go

A little while ago I had a conversation with life and creativity coach Dawn Kotzer. I like Dawn. She lives farther out in the woods than I do, appreciates the power of metaphor, and knows her stuff, inside and out—particularly the inside part.

We were talking about being stretched too thin and what that does to your psyche and professional life when she posed a slightly terrifying question:

“What if you did nothing at all?”

Just for a while. To give my team (for those of you with scorecards, I have a team of one—that would be me) some time to rest.

Nothing?

Cue the anxiety train, thundering toward the level crossing. My unicycle has stalled. Personal Armageddon is bearing down on me at 100 miles per hour.

“They’d forget me in half a second.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course not. I didn’t say I was being rational. I was just answering the question.”

(Practicing self-deprecating humour in unanticipated moments of glaring self-doubt is something I highly recommend. Does wonders for one’s perspective.)

Freakout trumps logic
I know how fast the Internet moves. Today’s Big Thing is in tomorrow’s Hall of Lame. But I also know disappearing off the face of the virtual earth for a week or so wouldn’t render me permanently invisible.

An unexpected question in an unguarded moment triggered a response I knew made no sense, but it didn’t stop me from going there. It was fascinating and a little embarrassing to watch how fast it happened and how badly it threw me, even though I got over myself almost as soon as I said the words.

Knowing a reaction isn’t rational doesn’t always stop the fragile human ego from getting tangled up in a trip wire. Not even when ego and trap are both in full view.

Our curious emotional afflictions
We are not rational creatures. Emotion is one of the things that makes us gifted artists, storytellers and inventors. It’s also what turns us into self-conscious, insecure lunatics.

For creatives, being ignored is the place nightmares come from. Not making money is only part of the big ugly picture titled “Failure.” It’s not just about the money. If it was, you’d have chosen another profession, like corporate accounting (not to cast aspersions on corporate accountants, but if you’re in that line of work and decide to get creative, you might find yourself in a fetching orange jumpsuit).

Artists, craftspeople, writers, designers—we want to be noticed. Appreciated. Just like everyone else. But unlike some other professions, necks get stuck out farther, souls are laid a little more bare. The personal stakes are higher, because it’s you on the line. Every time.

You want to leave your mark on the world. If you didn’t, you’d never try for a show or a sale. Being ignored, or forgotten, might even feel worse than someone hating your work.

Sometimes that pushes you to work to the limits of your endurance. Sometimes the desire to avoid that feeling is so strong you become paralyzed and do little or nothing to get your message out.

Obviously, neither of those strategies work particularly well.

Turn the irrational into an ally
The next time you feel like you just can’t face the beast called Marketing, consider this: your potential buyers are just as human as you are. They have quirks and neuroses and when presented with a particular set of circumstances, turn into self-conscious, insecure lunatics.

Your customers like to feel important, too. They thrive on attention, enjoy the occasional compliment, and want to know they’re more than just another face in the crowd.

Your marketing message isn’t just about you getting noticed. It’s also about how you make your buyers feel, from the moment you introduce yourself—online, in print, or in person—to the time you deliver the finished work.

Buying involves emotion. The quality and intensity varies depending on the individual and the nature of the purchase, but it’s there. Always. When you approach marketing with empathy, you can create a space for you and your buyer that changes “us and them” into just “us.” Your customers become collaborators. You can worry less about proving yourself worthy, because you’re more interested in extending a sincere invitation to people who share common ground.

When you shift your thinking from the business of marketing to connecting with people as real as you are, getting your message out becomes a creative act in itself.

What do you think—is no attention worse than negative attention? Do you get so caught up in the business end of business you forget there are real people out there?

Related posts:

1. The free marketing resource you shouldn’t do without
2. How to turn frustration into an opportunity
3. What to do when you’re nervous

Do you ever feel a vague sense of discomfort when you’re about to start a project, write something important, or show new work?

Maybe that feeling of unease isn’t so vague. Maybe it’s very clear and very loud.

What do you do when that happens?

You could try to ignore it and push on.

You could talk to the fear, to figure out exactly where it comes from.

You could focus your attention on where you want to be and how it will feel when you get there.

You could pray, sing show tunes, or conjure up your inner motivator.

Any of those methods can be effective, on any given day.

Emotions—chosen, or running amok
You can choose to let go of the discomfort. Your emotions come from your perceptions of a situation, so technically you have the ability to choose how you respond. You can observe the negative feelings while continuing with your work, unaffected by them.

But sometimes you find yourself temporarily overwhelmed. You become unreasonable, obstinate, or downright paralyzed.

It’s entirely possible you will experience all of these states, from neutrality to near panic, in rapid succession. Sometimes none of your usual coping strategies will work.

Try something completely different
What about curiosity?

You know that irresistible sensation. You’re immersed in a thrilling book. You race through to see how it ends (or your feet turn to clay and you sneak a peek at the last page). You’re on the edge of your seat at the movie theatre, trying to guess what’s about to happen.

When fear comes calling, when you find yourself buried under the what ifs of dread and nothing else works, let your natural sense of wonder pull you forward. That unquenchable human quality—curiosity—can drown out the noise in your head and shove fear to the sidelines. You move forward because you have to know what happens next.

If you want to make discoveries, venture out of your hiding place and look under the stones. If you want to know what lies on the road ahead, all you need to do is take the walk.

Related posts:

1. Conjure up your inner motivator
2. The power of commitment
3. Find your personal Obi-Wan Kenobi

Let me begin by saying that when you experience genuine enjoyment while vacuuming your house, it might be a sign of creative burnout.

I’d also like to tell you a long period without what most people consider a vacation isn’t necessarily a cause for alarm—provided your schedule and the work you do allows you to recharge your batteries.

And finally, with your indulgence, I would like to inform you it’s possible to nearly destroy a lifelong love of something if you approach it the wrong way.

Let me explain. No, there is too much. Let me sum up.

Last Monday I felt the euphoria that comes with the act of Lightening the Load. Never mind that I wasn’t about to spirit myself away to an exotic locale complete with room service—it was just heavenly to be able to do less.

By Tuesday morning I remembered I had a deadline less than a week away. No post in reserve. Poor planning on my part, but hey, when you’re running on fumes, that happens.

Wednesday’s dinner conversation:

“I hate people. All of them.”

“So you’re cheering for the aliens, then?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

No, of course I don’t hate people. I just couldn’t cope with the idea of dealing with anyone. Which didn’t prevent me from faking it extremely well.

Thursday I ran away from home. For the whole day. I busted out and bought shoes. Red shoes. Okay, they’re more reddish than red. And they almost have a heel (when I replay the memory, I hear Tone Loc’s version of “Wild Thing” while I hand over my credit card).

I also bought a piece of art from a local gallery. A lot of people are down on galleries these days, but not all galleries are created equal. This was one of the good ones. It has great stuff—a nice mix of visual art and fine craft—with a small exhibition space in what would otherwise be a basement.

You know you’re in a non-snooty gallery when Bon Jovi suddenly comes across the sound system. It was an odd but refreshing experience.

I picked out a framed photograph, not the most expensive thing in the place, but the $950 monoprint I was also lusting after just wasn’t in the budget. It turned out to be one of those serendipitous events, because as the piece was being wrapped, the artist wandered in and I was able to meet him. A couple of university students came by to see the printmaking exhibition downstairs, a poet dropped in and started chatting with the photographer (they knew each other), and a woman returned two of five paintings she’d taken to her home (on gallery approval) to see if they were a good fit. If you’re doing the math, that means she bought three.

All this in a half-hour stretch, in a town of about 3700 people (7000 when university is in session). That gallery is an important part of the community.

I’m very glad I took that road trip.

If you hung in waiting for me to get to the point, thank you, and here it is: six months of writing two posts a week damn near did me in. The reason is simple. I need to finish things. I don’t need to explain to you the satisfaction that comes with finishing a piece or project. I don’t get that when I’m in a constant cycle of coming up with new ideas to write about. (Some people can write a post a day. I’m not one of them.)

Part of the problem is the abstract nature of information. There’s no physical object at the end of the online writing process. Depending on how your brain is wired, that can be disorienting. I didn’t fully realize what was happening until I got to spend some time in an art gallery—until I was able to reconnect with what really matters to me and remember where my heart is. Apparently, my hands are a direct extension of it.

I’ve been writing stories since I was a kid. I nearly wrecked it—something that has given me a lifetime of joy—because I set my sights on some goals and forgot to honour both the way I work and my introverted personality.

One of my goals (the biggest one) is to use my skills and experience to help other creatives. So rather than have this post be all about me, let’s give you some real value.

So I’ll ask you this: does marketing or social media ever have that burnout effect on you? Does it sometimes feel like an endless cycle that doesn’t give you enough time to rest and regroup? Does it ever feel like a bottomless pit?

Marketing shouldn’t be a complete disconnect from your natural way of working. If you want to sell your work, you have to get in front of people, one way or another, but you get to craft your approach. You get to pick the tools, and the timing. It might take you longer than some people. It might mean you deviate from conventional wisdom. It might mean you don’t do it all yourself. Just make sure whatever you do, you do it as yourself, both in terms of your personality and your way of working.

P.S. I’ll likely be posting once a week for a while, because when you’re really burned out, a week of reduced “doing” doesn’t really cut it. Oh, and you get bonus points for catching the movie quote.

P.P.S. Many thanks to everyone who left a comment or sent an email after the “goin’ on vacation” announcement. Your good wishes are greatly appreciated.

Over to you: have you ever felt like an alien took over your brain when you tried to market your work? If you’re not used to writing, does your natural way of expressing yourself go straight out the window? Have you ever tried to radically change your approach when you tried a new medium and have it backfire?

Related posts:

1. Get the answers to your most burning questions
2. The other big problem with marketing
3. How to write your bio and About page without driving yourself crazy

Money—it’s a complicated, emotional subject. It’s so easy to get your self-worth tied up in it, so easy to get intimidated, particularly when you ask people to give you their money in exchange for your work.

Sit with that for a minute. You ask people to give you their money in exchange for your work. Does that make you uneasy?

It shouldn’t. It’s how our economic system works, for the most part—money in exchange for a service, or something you can hold in your hands.

When an employer rents your time, you show up, do the work, go home, and repeat the process as often as necessary (or, depending on your disposition, as long as you can stand it). There might be complaints. There’s not enough money for the amount of work, responsibility, or stress that goes with the job. There’s no hesitation about wanting more.

When you sell what you create, there might be some frayed nerves when it comes to asking for money, at least until you get used to it.

So what’s the difference?

There’s nowhere to hide
When you work for someone else, you get to hide behind their name. Even if you screw up royally and get fired, your employer has to take the heat and deal with disgruntled customers. They get to take the deep breath and put the prices on the tags.

When it’s just you and your business, that safe zone is gone. It’s your neck stuck out there—it’s you the customers are judging—your ideas, your talent, your heart and soul. It can be pretty damn scary.

If you don’t ask for too much money, maybe they’ll go easy on you. So all of a sudden, money isn’t an exchange of value for value. It’s about approval. And you might do all kinds of stupid things to get it, because disapproval is a mighty unpleasant feeling.

The truth is, the decision to pull out the wallet is a form of approval no matter who’s buying what. Someone says, “I’d like to have that.” You do it when you buy, too.

Take refuge in the marketplace
When you get emotions tangled up with money, you forget you’re part of an established marketplace. There are prices in your medium that are already accepted by buyers. That ground has been broken. Depending on what you do, the range can be wide, depending on skill and reputation. But those numbers can help you get out of your spin. They can help you to stop thinking about approval and start thinking about business.

Ultimately, the right price is the one the market will support.

How does that feel?

Adjust your perceptions
Whether you work for someone else or are self-employed, you think about making money. That rings particularly true for creatives, but the thought needs to be expanded. While the work you produce is always most important, you do much more than that. You run a business, which involves heavy responsibility and requires a varied skill set. You’re not playing at it. It’s not an amusing little hobby.

How do you feel about money? Think about how you earn it.

Over to you: Do you get hung up about money? If you sell with confidence, how do you avoid the money jitters?

Related posts:

1. Economy, fantasy and the value agreement
2. Online selling – how to figure out your prospects without going crazy
3. A little Christmas shopping insight

People seem to think building an extraordinary business is impossible. But consider: how hard is it to turn “ordinary” into something better?

The significant other and I were in a restaurant, a new location of a well-established local eatery. It’s not a terribly expensive place, but it’s not a sports bar, either.

Long story short: at the end of the meal, I grabbed the sevrer’s copy of the bill and wrote, “Excellent service, thanks Jennifer.”

The fella looked at me and said, “Are you trying to start something?”

He was wearing his smartass grin, but I wasn’t sure what he was driving at.

“What?”

“Are you trying to start a revolution?”

Now there is an excellent idea.

You’re probably wondering what stupendous feats Jennifer performed to spark the organized overthrow of mediocre restaurant service. You might be surprised at the answer.

She was relaxed, gracious, and engaged. She made eye contact when she spoke to us, and gave me a straight answer about what she heard from other customers when I was torn between two menu items. She didn’t bow, scrape, or fawn all over us, she wasn’t in a rush to get away from the table, and she didn’t call us “guys” or “yas” (which has been adopted as the plural form of “you” in some restaurants). She made us both feel at ease, like welcome guests instead of the pair at table four.

That’s it. That’s all it took to get a written compliment on the bill. And it’s sad to realize how rarely it happens.

Maybe we should be dining at higher-end eateries, but that isn’t the point.

Something happens when you go out of your way to compliment someone on doing something well. Not to them, to you. Something shifts in your head. You start to think about where you set the bar for the people you do business with. You become less willing to compromise on quality. You notice the people who step away from the herd.

You find yourself less willing to let your own work slide.

Small details can make or break a customer experience. It’s the same with revolutions, even small ones: they begin with an idea, and spread, one mind at a time.

Over to you: how do you define “extraordinary?” How would you start a revolution in your own thinking or your own work? When was the last time you gave someone a heartfelt compliment on a job well done?

Related posts:

1. How to run your microbusiness like a 4-diamond hotel
2. Burning questions about motivation
3. A cautionary tale of DIY car repairs and instant karma

The holidays are over, the leftovers are long gone, the resolutions have been made.

Or not.

Are you unnerved at the thought of either starting a marketing plan, or chewing your nails about polishing your existing image? It can be overwhelming if you look at where you want to be compared with where you are now.

It’s not a big deal. Just start at the beginning.

What’s your first impression?

What’s your initial point of contact with your customers? Is it your website? A studio, storefront or office? A Facebook page? Start with that, and work both inward and outward.

Working outward is obvious: you take an objective look at your public face, so to speak.

Looking inward is no less important. What you tell yourself about your business or professional practice shapes the way you make every decision.

What you tell yourself can also stop you dead in your tracks.

Kiss your objections goodbye

“I can’t do marketing. It feels fake, like I’m bragging.” So don’t brag. Talk about what you do. Dispense with the flowery words and use plain language instead. You can embellish later, once the jitters settle.

“I can’t keep up with the bigshots. They’re famous and I’m not.” A lot of bigshots started out like the rest of us and worked their way to the top. Stop making comparisons.

“I don’t have a big marketing budget.” That excuse might work if you’re trying to take on the Ford Motor Company. You’re not. Connecting with your customers doesn’t cost a fortune.

“But I suck at networking!” Me too. I’m no good at small talk. But I love ideas. Sharing ideas on Twitter is a blast. (And it’s free.)

“I can’t make cold calls.” Most of us hate making cold calls. So don’t. There’s almost always more than one way to do something. The alternative might take longer and mean more work, but if it keeps you moving in the right direction, you just walked around a roadblock.

Respect your work

This is your profession. It’s your job. Your livelihood. Even if you’re just starting out and made your first fifty bucks, you have to treat your business like a business. Even if you’re scared out of your mind that you’ll fail miserably. Treating your work with the same gravitas as if you were a surgeon or an engineer helps keep your focus where it needs to be.

What if the nasty chicken voices won’t shut up?

Sometimes all the positive self-talk in the world won’t get you going. Sometimes you just have to pretend you aren’t terrified. There’s no single method that will work for everyone. If you’re the type who needs some concrete action before you can do the mental work, stay tuned for part two, for the hands-on stuff.

Any nasty chicken voices to share? What’s your biggest stumbling block? What’s your favourite objection to promoting your work?

Related posts:

1. The ins and outs of your first impression (part 2 – look outward)

In December each year, the Canadian Wildlife Federation sends me a calendar, and I send them a donation. This year they included a small fundraising insert with the following quote:

“In the end we will conserve only what we love. We will love only what we understand. We will understand only what we are taught.”
—Baba Dioum

The caption above the quote reads “Create a Lasting Legacy.” It got me to thinking.

Leaving a legacy seems like a lofty pursuit, but the truth is, we leave something behind with everything we do. We create a tiny wake in the space-time continuum every single day.

If you’re the type who dislikes resolutions, think about your legacy instead. What kinds of things, big or small, do you want to leave behind? What would you like to add to your memoirs? What kind of impact do you want to make in your profession, your community, or the world at large?

Instead of making promises out of tradition or obligation, connect with your deepest, most honourable desires, and move forward with thoughtful purpose. Lofty aspirations, yes, but completely practical if you do it in increments of choices.

What lofty, practical, big or small accomplishments are in your sights this year? Leave a comment below.

Related posts:

1. If you want to move forward, turn around
2. The free marketing resource you shouldn’t do without
3. Break your routine

I’ve been having vivid dreams for weeks now.  As in, take-me-to-the-movies dreams, with wildly elaborate plot lines, detailed to the Nth degree.

You might think this is normal for a creative type, but it’s way over the top for me, and it does not make for restful sleep.

My subconscious is trying to tell me something.

I need a break from brain work. So last night I picked up a novel. As in, wizards and swords and assassins and psychic reptiles. Worked like a charm.

Being self-employed means I have a hard time forgetting about work. Some people have a naturally-occurring Off switch, and some entrepreneurs have businesses that nearly run themselves, or staff that do the running. But if you’re a solo act, you don’t get that luxury, and if you have perfectionist tendencies, disengaging is difficult. But it’s necessary.

A little down time can work wonders for creativity.

It might simply be a matter of breaking your routine, or you might need to shift gears entirely. You might need to take a break from writing, for example, to dig in the garden, get a massage, or go skating, or bicycling, or sing show tunes at the top of your lungs in the shower.

Or you might need to just stop for a while.

You might feel pressure to keep up your usual pace, but the thing is, you can’t give anyone your best if all you have left between your ears is stewed turnip (not that I’d know anything about that). Taking care of yourself gives you the energy to make good work. You can’t do that if you’re burned out. And if you burn yourself out, you might learn to hate your customers, and in turn, begin to hate what you do every day.

Being burned out also makes you more susceptible to throwing in the towel when things get tough.

Give yourself permission to step out of the studio for a day or two (or more, if that’s what you need). Give yourself permission to stop. Exhale, recharge. The urge to get back at it will come when it’s time.

Happy Holidays.

What’s your favourite gear-switching activity?

Related posts:

1. The ins and outs of your first impression (part 1 – work in)
2. What burnout can teach you about creativity (or what I did on my late winter vacation)
3. The power of commitment