Let’s just name it:
You saw the course.
It spoke to your soul.
You imagined yourself curled up with a hot drink and your sketchbook, maybe in some Pinterest-worthy corner of your home.
Your inner artist whispered, This is it.
You clicked Buy Now with the best of intentions.
And then… crickets.
The course sits unopened. Or maybe you watched the first video and never went back.
And now you’re left wondering: Why do I do this?
What’s wrong with me?
Spoiler alert: nothing is wrong with you. But there is something worth exploring.
Here’s what I’ve found—both in my own life and in conversations with other creative women: finishing (or even starting) these courses isn’t about laziness or lack of commitment. It’s about invisible resistance masquerading as productivity, perfectionism, or plain old avoidance.
Let’s unpack it.
1. We Buy Hope, Then Get Hit With Real Life
Buying the course felt like action. And it was—a hopeful, empowered move.
But once the buzz wears off, you’re left with… life. Laundry. Kids. That weird feeling in your shoulder. Your mother’s drama. The news.
Courses ask for time, space, and attention. And creative women?
We’re often already stretched thin meeting everyone else’s needs before our own.
2. Perfectionism Kills the Starting Line
The irony? The more we care about something, the less likely we are to start it.
You love art. You want to get better.
But the thought of “ruining” a clean sheet of paper or doing the assignment “wrong”?
Paralyzing.
Perfectionism doesn’t show up as “I need to be perfect.”
It shows up as:
“I need the right supplies.”
“I need more time.”
“I need to finish the laundry first.”
And so you delay. And delay. And eventually forget why you signed up in the first place.
3. There’s No Deadline, So There’s No Urgency
Online courses live in that no-man’s land of “I’ll get to it later.”
Unlike a live class where people are expecting you—or even a yoga class where you’ve paid for a spot—online courses are often self-paced.
Which means: no accountability, no urgency, and no built-in feedback loop to say, “Hey, keep going.”
4. The Course Was Never Meant to Be Finished
Let’s be honest.
Some courses are too packed.
Too many hours, too many materials, too many lessons trying to cover everything from color theory to selling your work online.
Many creative women don’t need everything. They need a doable place to start.
But we sign up for the buffet, get overwhelmed, and leave with a stomachache.
5. Deep Down, We Don’t Feel Worthy of the Time
This one hurts, but it’s true.
Somewhere along the line, we were taught that play is frivolous, that art is a luxury, and that our creative pursuits matter less than other people’s needs.
So even when we do carve out time for the course, the guilt creeps in.
We wonder if we’re being selfish.
We think we should be doing something more productive.
And so we close the laptop and go fold the towels instead.
Here’s the Reframe:
You didn’t fail the course.
You didn’t waste your money.
You didn’t flake out.
You are a creative woman living in a chaotic world.
You long to make beautiful things.
And you can still begin.
Now. Today. With what you have.
Even five minutes counts.
Even a messy first try is sacred.
Even just opening the course portal is a win.
What if you gave yourself permission to not “finish” but just start again?
What if you asked less of yourself, not more?
What if your art wasn’t something you earned after all the hard things were done,
but the very thing that brings you back to life?
If this resonated, hit reply and tell me which course is still sitting in your inbox.
I promise I won’t judge.
I’ll just say: Me too.
And then, let’s open it together.
(Let’s be the women who start messy, keep going imperfectly, and create anyway.)
I’ll add another reason why: We don’t actually need the course, we just need to have more confidence in our own self-expression. I often watch the first video of a course and think “I don’t want to make art like that.”
I can relate to all the excuses and forgotten courses sitting on my hard drive. But since starting an art class In Real Life, I am finding I do show up for my creative practice, finally. The accountability, exercises, and community make the difference for me.