I used to think if I bought the right course, or organized the perfect art space, or finally finished a project without stopping, I wouldn’t feel behind anymore.
But here’s the truth:
That feeling of being behind wasn’t about the course.
It wasn’t about my schedule.
It was about the quiet, heavy story I was carrying about myself.
Maybe you know that story too.
The one that says if you don’t finish everything you start—or if you lose momentum or change your mind—you must not be serious enough, good enough, or "real" enough to call yourself an artist.
I can still remember exactly where it started for me—the story that said you have to finish to be good enough.
When Finishing Became the Only Way to Feel Good Enough
I was maybe nine or ten years old, sitting at the kitchen table with a half-finished school project spread out in front of me. Construction paper, glue sticks, those fat Crayola markers that always smelled like they might be fun. I had worked on it for days, but it wasn’t done yet. It wasn’t perfect yet.
My mom leaned over, looked at the clock, and said, “If you don’t finish it, it won’t count.”
It wasn’t harsh. She wasn’t being mean. It was just one of those offhand things adults say when they’re tired and trying to push you across the finish line.
But boy, did it land.
If you don’t finish it, it won’t count.
Somewhere deep inside me, that sentence turned into a rule. A measuring stick. A silent contract I didn’t know I was signing.
Over the years, it got applied to everything—not just school projects, but art, writing, dreams, creative experiments. This rule applied to every project I attempted.
If I didn’t finish, it didn’t count.
If I didn’t finish, maybe I didn’t count.
It’s sneaky, that story.
And for a long time, I believed it.
It took me a long time—and a lot of unfinished paintings, essays, and abandoned ideas—to realize that rule wasn’t the truth. It was just a story I had picked up without realizing it.
The real truth is: every single attempt counts.
Every messy start, every half-formed thought, every idea that flickers and fades.
It all counts. It’s all part of the life you’re building.
Finishing can be beautiful.
But starting, trying, trusting yourself enough to begin—those are beautiful too.
And maybe that’s the story I’m writing now.
But the more I talk to other creative women—the more I listen to their hearts instead of their highlight reels—the more I know this:
You are not behind.
You are building something real.
And real things take time. They have seasons. They get messy. They circle back and start over. They unfold at the pace of your life—not at the pace of a course timeline.
What if you were never meant to race to the finish line?
What if unfinished is actually just another word for still alive?
Creativity Moves in Spirals, Not Straight Lines
Somewhere along the way, most of us learned that finishing things was the proof we were worthy.
Finish your homework, finish the chores, finish what you started.
Finish—or it doesn’t count. Finish—or you’re falling behind.
And while that kind of thinking might work for school assignments and grocery lists, creativity?
Creativity laughs at that kind of thinking.
Creativity doesn’t move in straight lines. It moves in spirals and stops and starts. It asks for experiments, detours, bad drafts, "ugly middles," and unfinished things left quietly to compost in the background.
But if you're anything like me, when you can't "keep up" with a course or complete something quickly, it can still feel like a personal failure.
Like you missed some invisible deadline.
Like everyone else got the manual, and you’re out here wandering around trying to remember why you even started.
The truth is, the system you’re measuring yourself against was never made for artists, dreamers, makers, or messy, beautiful real life.
You didn’t fall behind.
You fell into your real creative rhythm—the one that can’t always be scheduled, quantified, or rushed.
You’re Not Falling Behind—You’re Finding Your Way
If you’re feeling the weight of "unfinished," or the tug of "I should be further along," here’s what I want you to remember:
You’re not behind.
You’re building something real.
And real things take:
- One small showing up.
- One messy sketch.
- One scribbled note in the margins.
- One pause.
- One breath.
There’s no race. No grade. No perfect timeline.
The only thing you’re "supposed" to do is keep connecting to the part of you that still wants to try.
What’s Helping Me Right Now and Will Help You
Celebrating micro-wins.
One messy brushstroke, one half-idea scribbled in a notebook, one spark of inspiration noticed on a walk. It all counts.Choosing my own pace.
Some weeks I paint for hours. Some weeks I barely touch my supplies. Either way, I’m moving at the pace of my real life—not a course schedule.Redefining consistency.
A consistent art practice doesn’t have to mean painting for hours every day. It might look like a quick sketch on a napkin at a café, an intentional page in a sketchbook, a finished painting for sale—or simply making space for the in-between. You get to decide what is consistent for you.Letting 'unfinished' be alive.
A half-done sketch or color swatch isn’t a failure. It’s living proof that the creative door is still open, and I’m still walking through it.
If today’s note stirred something in you, I’d love to hear about it. A tiny win, a messy try, a new beginning—you’re welcome to share anything. You’re not alone in this, and your story matters more than you know. 💛
P.S. If this note made you breathe a little easier, maybe it’ll do the same for someone you love. Feel free to pass it along. We’re not meant to figure this all out alone.
As a former art teacher I’d tell my students “enjoy the process and don’t worry about the product.”
Earlier in the week I made a pig's ear of dome printing I was trying to get the hang of (by trial and error, because I can't follow instructions. Long story...). All the usual 'failure' spiral stories kicked-in.
BUT I put the pieces aside, and days later I am still working on them, learning from them , having fun , and making art 💙