It happened again …

Realizing creativity isn’t just about output and paying close attention to where and when you feel most inspired.

I’ve found a quiet satisfaction in championing the work of others—there’s a familiar sense of fulfillment in witnessing their creative sparks take shape.

Hi friend, you may (or may not) have noticed but it’s been a little quiet here over the past several weeks. This was unintentional, but necessary.

A little over two months ago, I wrote about creative block and burnout in general—how it sneaks up, demanding rest even when we’re not ready. I thought I’d learned something from that experience. Yet here I am, in early June, finding myself at the tail end of another creative slowdown, sedimented below what should be a free-flowing production of the magazine. This time though, it feels different, shaped by the momentum and exhaustion of the current season I find myself in.

After the Sprint, the Stillness

Spring always brings a surge of projects. Deadlines, new collaborations, the energy of a creative community waking up after winter. I poured myself into it all—community meetups, photography, edits, new business ideas, conversations that stretched late into the night. For a while after recovering from the previous bout of creative block, it felt like I was once again finding momentum, riding a wave that wouldn’t break.

But soon the pace caught up to me. Not with a dramatic crash, but with a gradual quieting. I noticed it in small ways: ideas taking longer to form, enthusiasm flickering out mid-sentence, drafts sitting untouched. The urge to keep producing is strong, but lately, it’s met with a kind of resistance that’s hard to explain.

I’ve realized that creativity isn’t just about output; it’s about staying curious, even when the results aren’t immediate.

What’s Different This Time

I’ve come to see these slow periods as an inevitable part of a creative cycle—less a failure, more a recalibration. Instead of forcing myself to power through, I’m trying to listen for what needs attention, even if it’s not directly related to my work.

Sometimes, that means quiet research, focusing on other forms of art consumption, cleaning my workspace, or simply stepping away to let my mind wander. Other times, it’s about reconnecting with the reasons I started making things in the first place. I’ve realized that creativity isn’t just about output; it’s about staying curious, even when the results aren’t immediate.

Letting the Process Breathe

This lull wasn’t something I planned, but I’m learning to let them be. I’m giving myself permission to move more slowly, to let ideas simmer rather than rushing to finish them. It’s uncomfortable at times, especially when I see others in constant motion. But I’ve found a quiet satisfaction in championing the work of others—there’s a familiar sense of fulfillment in witnessing their creative sparks take shape. Perhaps this pause is an invitation to observe, to gather inspiration, and to channel that energy back into the spirit of this community publication.

If you’ve found yourself in a similar place (again)—coming down from a busy stretch, wondering why the spark feels dim—know that you’re not alone. These quiet moments aren’t a sign that you’ve lost your edge. They’re an invitation to rest, to reflect, paying close attention to where and when you feel most inspired or productive.

—But for me, it’s now back to regular programming.

Thom ✌️
Founder + Editor