10 Small Ways I Nurture My Creativity To Avoid Burnout
How to stay inspired even when you aren’t.
cottonbro studio | Pexels Creativity is hard work. This may be counterintuitive for those who see creativity as a natural talent or a personality trait rather than a well-honed habit. It may seem like creative people have a consistent flame burning within them that is always easy to ignite without much kindling.
But even the most creative creatives grapple with lows in their practice where some ideas may be smoldering but nothing sustainable really catches for a while. These frustrating moments in my practice remind me that creativity requires self-awareness, discipline, and continuous recalibration.
In this era where we are expected to constantly consume and produce creativity, burnout poses a serious threat and it can feel extremely destabilizing when it happens. That feeling of not being creative/fast/successful enough can grow into its own intoxicating fire, fueling our anxiety and snuffing out our confidence.
Burnout may start with irritability (hello constant venting!) and procrastination, before overtaking other areas of our life by manifesting itself as fatigue, brain fog, migraines, or even digestive disturbances. Whenever I’ve experienced creative burnout in my writing or photography, it has depleted me to the point where everything has felt daunting — even cooking, running errands, replying to friends, or something as uncreative as folding laundry. So how do we get our creative power back? Can we keep it from leaving us in the first place?
Here are 10 small ways I nurture my creativity to be mindful of burnout:
1. I create first, without consuming
Sometimes, inspiration magically hits and nothing can break that enviable creative flow. Before I know it, I’ve written the thing or designed a whole new line of products and it all happened insanely quickly with absolute clarity. But let’s face it: those days are not the norm!
I can’t always count on inspiration meeting me at my desk. What I can count on is knowing myself well enough to help my creativity along on days when it needs an extra push.
In the summer — when a garden-filling sunrise helps me become a morning person — I carve out time to create in the hours before emails start contaminating my clarity. In the winter, I tend to be creative in the early evenings when it’s too dark to even look out the window, so I try to organize my work and family tasks to save myself a couple of writing hours a few times a week.
I also know I am most aligned and inspired when I’m completely untethered, so I try my hardest to grant myself that obligation-free time as regularly as possible, whether I escape to a cottage with spotty wifi or just declare a Sunday a “please-don’t-look-for-me-I’m-writing” day.
Crucially, I stay with my creative voice as long as possible without filling up on others’ voices on social media. I start writing without reading excessively first. I keep my Instagram limit to under twenty minutes a day (and not in the morning!) and often leave my phone in another room.
It’s easier to look around than within, especially when we hit roadblocks with our ideas, but the surest way out is always through! Even when every sentence I write frustrates me, I stay with it for as long as I can, until it eventually unblocks. And, if it doesn’t, I can genuinely say I tried.
2. I let myself play without focusing (too much) on outcome and income
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Even when we do something for the sheer joy of doing it, it’s natural to want to succeed. There are a few sacred areas of my creativity where I let myself play without obsessing about outcome or income. My food photography, for example, is something I enjoy doing for myself, where I can dabble and experiment and fail without sinking into self-doubt.
But even the areas of my creative career that are most important to my identity, like my writing about wellness, I try (very hard) not to take it too seriously. As rattled as I get by rejections, I try to focus instead on what’s next, on how this “no” might be a good thing. I also try to pay attention to the half-open doors: sometimes, a “no” feels more like an “almost”, and I can channel that into motivation to sit my butt down and try again.
Sometimes, a piece I create will exist only on my computer or on a random page in my notebook, and that’s okay too. In those instances, the outcome is that I made something, even if it didn’t go anywhere from there.
The pressure to not fail is heavier when you need to earn your living from what you create. It seems like an impossible situation: We’re supposed to do what we love in life, yet also not worry about the money?! It’s a privilege to be able to create without needing to earn income or recognition from it. But that weight can paralyze our creativity.
When possible, I pick one project where I detach myself from both outcome and income. I let myself begin, maybe even fail. I accept an unpaid opportunity. I choose to create an unprofitable product.
I permit myself to not grow in any of the metrics I’m supposed to be tracking. Sometimes, I ignore the metrics altogether and say “whatever” a few times an hour. It doesn’t take away from the creative process. In some ways, it even enhances it.
3. I don’t let fear take over
I feel like an imposter in almost everything I undertake. In science, I spent most of my PhD feeling like every fellowship or accolade I received only delayed the inevitable: at some point, soon, people were going to figure out I wasn’t all that gifted. As a photographer, I get a lot of questions about my equipment and technique, and I feel myself wince; can I just tell people I’m mostly passionate about composition and that I learn as I go, without looking like a fraud?
Public speaking triggers nightmares weeks before the event and requires so much preparation just to keep my anxiety in check. In writing especially, where I let myself be most vulnerable, I worry every time a piece is published that it will instantly reveal my lack of formal training and my disdain for the Oxford comma.
I am afraid every time I create. It never goes away and never even gets better. And yet, I create anyway.
Fear reminds me that I care about what I am doing (and not just because of the way I’m perceived). I want to experience it, and I want to experience it well. But fear is downright nauseating and so I’d be a wreck if I let it take over every time. Having my nervous system stuck in perpetual “fight or flight” mode will not be conducive to inspiration.
I acknowledge fear, even talk to it, and try to figure out what it’s telling me about my insecurities and areas I’d maybe like to invest in improving. If I’m tempted to decline an opportunity, I ask myself if I’d be declining out of fear or because it’s something I truly don’t feel inclined to do. If the answer is fear, I say yes and I have nightmares until it’s done, but then I celebrate having gotten through it (even if it wasn’t perfect).
4. I stick to my boundaries, even when I’m tempted
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Those Sundays I told you about earlier where I let people have fun without me while I coop myself up to write? It’s always extremely tempting to soften my boundaries or to cut my creating short. I hate feeling like everyone’s having fun without me.
It’s also very unpleasant to wallow in guilt that I’m not hitting my daily step goal or getting enough fresh air. But blurring my boundaries only tells me (and others) that my creativity is not sacred.
Boundaries are rarely perceived well. They make us seem selfish and inflexible. They make other people feel rejected. Living with a disabling illness and chronic pain has made me extremely protective of my energy and time, yet I’ve seen how my boundaries can cause tension with friends and loved ones.
Still, however rigid we may seem, boundaries are essential in preserving our creativity. We only have so much of ourselves to give in a day, so why not give creativity our most energized self? This is especially true when what we create is a side hustle (though I hate the word “hustle”) rather than our main line of work.
Why should it be our last priority, something we do only when we’ve shown up for everything and everyone else? I remind myself that every time I say no to an outing or gathering, I say yes to my creativity, and that has to feel like a good choice.
5. I clear clutter in my space and my schedule
I’ve always been especially sensitive to clutter and chaos. I begin every morning by tidying up a small area — the kitchen counter, my nightstand, or my desk. It’s a ritual that warms up both my body and my brain.
Just ten minutes of tidying helps my mind ease into gear. Any longer than that and I’d just be procrastinating! It helps me stay focused when I have a tidy creative environment as well as a system for organizing my thoughts, whether I’m in the brainstorming or polishing stage.
I also have trouble creating when I’m constantly on the go. My creativity needs negative space and negative time. I like to give it wide margins, lots of sunshine, and hours spent walking, breathing, or staring into space.
I’ve learned that I have to leave gaps in my schedule to allow ideas to form, even if it means making a simple adjustment like walking to where I need to get instead of catching the bus. Creativity likes it when we stretch time — and our legs.
6. I keep my heart curious and my notebook open
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The best ideas come to me when I’m quiet enough to hear them. And by “quiet” I don’t mean hiding in a library or a temple. I mean being a receptive listener and observer of what is happening around and within me so that my mind can connect the dots.
Inspiration rarely roars. It whispers. I try to make sure I am ready to catch what it says. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve jotted down ideas on my grocery list or a napkin in the evening, and surprised myself with them a day or two later, as though someone else (with my crazy handwriting) had jotted them down. Imagine if I hadn’t! They’d probably have been lost.
Of course, not every idea gets used. Some are real duds! But they’re mine and I feel grateful to keep having them, so I record them when they come. I listen to them with curiosity and see where they may lead. If they lead nowhere, at least I have a mini-portrait of my mindset at a given season.
7. I alternate between different forms of creativity
As a multi-passionate person who is chronically teased for enjoying so many different things, my way of procrastinating tends to be to create something else. On days when writing feels like pulling teeth, I switch gears to photography or graphic design. If my literary writing isn’t flowing, I switch to more “low-stakes” writing on social media or Medium.
If I’m feeling more passive, I catch up on a podcast or attend a webinar. If I don’t want to create with my mind, I clean or bake or garden, all of which I consider profitable in the long run anyway. Sometimes, I unexpectedly swim myself out of a creative block. After all, thinking about writing is writing too, isn’t it?
Walking away from a task may feel like you’re failing at your daily goal, but it’s important to remember that there are many forms of creativity and that it’s okay to be called to one form of creativity over another. Even if you didn’t expect to switch gears or environments, it can keep your momentum flowing. You never know what insights or metaphors you’ll unlock by letting your mind wander while your hands are busy doing something different.
8. I pay attention to what my body is telling me
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Sharing my life with an illness that creates inflammation, pain, and tension in all places, I’ve developed a hyperawareness of my body’s signals. My muscles and nerves know what stress and fear feel like (and this sadly tends to be its default state), but also what bliss and contentment feel like. Our nervous system is our one true ally if we pay attention and learn to soothe it.
Easier said than done…It has been my work in progress for years now, aided especially by osteopathy, physiotherapy, yoga, and mindfulness practice, to not only notice my body’s loud sirens but also work consciously to turn the volume (gently and appreciatively) down on them.
Where is my tension? Am I holding my breath and clenching my fists? Am I feeling over-alert or super-drained?
Creativity is a whole-system state. When I pay attention to what my body is telling me, I can uncover some useful secrets about my creative mindset. Am I procrastinating for a deeper reason? Is this thing costing me more than it is serving me? Why am I resisting this project or feeling such angst about it? Would I feel better if I took this task outside to soak up more daylight and nature today?
There’s nothing more important than feeling well so we can create well (so we can feel well).
9. I speak to my creativity with gratitude, even when I’m frustrated
It’s fun to dream, to try new things, to make things…until it’s not! Being courageous and creative is also frustrating when our vision doesn’t go as planned. Creativity takes a tremendous amount of vulnerability, and this vulnerability can be downright depleting. So when our creative efforts aren’t rewarded the way we hoped, creating becomes a lot less enjoyable.
I try to refrain from bullying myself when I feel frustrated with my creativity. Even if I feel like I’m creating too slowly or not well enough, I try to give myself grace and make a list of all the aspects of my recent or past creativity that I do feel are going well.
This gratitude list always helps me recenter my thinking, even if it doesn’t immediately make me roll up my sleeves and get back to creating. I try to remind myself (often) not to take myself or my craft(s) too seriously, so as not to lose sight of the joy that brought me here in the first place.
10. I take frequent breaks from creating — but not for too long
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Sometimes, the only way to fuel creativity is to pause it! As much as I schedule creative time, I also frequently schedule no-pressure days where I don’t even touch my laptop. I don’t just mean on weekends when everyone is busy weekending, when time flies and places are overcrowded. I mean a random Wednesday morning where my to-do list is a to-be list.
I am a fan of giving up (for a while). When I’m not feeling it, I don’t plow on and dig myself into a hole; I try my best and I give it a rest. I step away from a project for a while to see if I can see it from another perspective when I come back to it.
An essay I’d (guiltily) left abandoned for a few weeks once turned into my most widely distributed pieces when I finally finished it. And when I came back to finish it, it felt strangely easy and took me less time than expected. If it’s a project I’ve decided I want to still pursue, I try not to take too long a break from it, so that inspiration doesn’t give up on me completely.
Creativity is not a constant. Like everything else in nature, it has its seasons and its tides. But with constant care and patience, it can burn brightly and sustainably without suffocating us with smoke.
Kristina Kasparian is a writer, consultant, and health activist with a PhD in neurolinguistics. Her writing on identity, wellness, and social justice has been published by Roxane Gay, Longreads, Catapult, Newsweek, Fodor’s, the Globe & Mail, and several literary journals. She is currently at work on a literary non-fiction project on these same themes.