"Am I Doing This Right?"

Thoughts on creative play, dinosaur books, and finding inspiration in community

One morning last week after school drop off, I swung by Lake Michigan for a quick visit. The morning was still and calm, and after driving over Inspiration Point on my way home and seeing how glassine Glen Lake was, I needed a moment with the big lake.

The air was so still, the beach seemingly silent. After quieting myself to the scene, however, I became attuned to all the noise of the morning I had stepped into–the bird calls, the lake lapping on the shore, the animal and human visitors down the beach. I began writing the first poem I’ve worked on in a while, and plan to share it with you before the month’s end.

I am working on stretching my creative muscles. Last Sunday, I took a color theory workshop with my friend Alyssa Smith, and was confronted with the same old creative blocks I have noticed popping up elsewhere in my work and life.

I want to be good. I want to get things right. When given the opportunity to play around and explore, I need to make sure I understand the rules. “Okay, but how am I supposed to be mixing these colors? How drastically should my gradient shift? Am I doing this right?” *looks around frantically at everyone else and realizes they’re all just playing, absorbed in the moment.*

In many ways, my creativity has flourished since becoming a mom, and I attribute much of this to the time constraints it has placed on my work. I think there are real benefits in having a framework to create within. But what I am noticing about my process lately is that I am often so concerned with the outcome that I forget to let myself just explore. To give myself over to the process itself.

Lately, I have a desire to allow room for error. To show up to my notebook and leave space for incomplete thoughts, run-on sentences, and all the mistakes that may guide me somewhere new. I want to delve into my process more, allow myself to simply meander with less concern for whether the outcome is good. Creating is necessary, even if only allowing room for personal growth.

This week I began listening to the audiobook “We Need Your Art” by Amie McNee, and am already struck by the realization of how much we stifle creativity by deeming it unimportant. How often do I push my writing work to the side because it doesn’t pay the bills? How easy is it for me to leave my camera on the shelf when working a paid gig? McNee argues about the importance of art as a means of both self-development and community builder. She writes, “art and human connection share something intrinsic…creativity–both the making and consumption of art–is social. It enhances our ability to connect. It is the fiber that knits our communities together.”

I have spent a lot of time writing books with my son lately. He is five and very passionate about dinosaurs, and has been quite prolific the last four months in creating books filled with dinosaur facts. Titles such as “What Did Dinosaurs Eat,” “Dottie’s Dinosaurs” (a gift for a friend’s newborn), and Dinosaur Christmas Lights have been created in a day’s time, with him illustrating and dictating the text to me. His handwriting is too large, he claims, to fit all the words he wants to put on each page. Sometimes he adds set design and photography into his creative process, and together we print photographs of elaborate scenes he created with dinosaur toys and his sister’s new dollhouse.

I am learning so much–yes, about dinosaurs, but also about creative process–from my children. We allow our children unrestrained creativity. We celebrate it with them. I wonder, at what age does that change? At what point do we start encouraging more “productive” hobbies? When do we require they perfect their skill rather than just playing around with it? What would I be making if I allowed room for more discovery in my work? What stories would I be able to tell myself if I stopped repeating the idea that I can’t paint, can’t REALLY play the piano (I am still practicing!), don’t write enough?

This is my current journey. I am stretching my creative limbs and grasping for as many opportunities for exploration as I can. Dreaming up collaborative photo shoots for the chance to play with friends. Attending workshops and conversations with other creatives to spark inspiration. I am practicing trust in myself and the process. Believing the end product doesn’t need to be “good” to be GOOD.

After the color theory workshop last weekend, I texted my brother, “I feel so much like a child when I paint (as in, my skill level remains there),” but now that I think about it, maybe that’s the goal? What if tapping into the non-judgmental creativity of childhood is the very best way to create? Hyper-fixation on one subject, explored across whatever medium sounds interesting that day, over and over again. Not in pursuit of perfection, but just to create something I enjoy.

Opportunities for Creative Connection

I am currently seeking out opportunities to connect with other creatives where I live in northern Michigan, and am excited about a couple of upcoming events. If you’re local and craving some creative inspiration or connection, I hope to see you at one or both of these events in May! Leave a comment or reply to this email if you plan to attend or want more information!

An Evening with Artists, Farm Club, May 12 from 6-9pm
Local artists Katherine Corden, Alyssa Smith, Lindsay Gardner, and Alexa Grambush with take part in a panel discussion moderated by Sarah Bearup-Neal of the Glen Arbor Arts Center (such an incredible gallery/community space). The event is at Farm Club and tickets can be purchased here.

Northwest Michigan Arts and Culture Summit in Traverse City, May 30-31
The Northwest Michigan Arts and Culture Network is an incredible organization that connects artists throughout the region to each other, to organizations, and to their communities. Their yearly summit is an opportunity to meet fellow artists and generate new ideas, and I am so excited to attend at the end of May. Nafeesah Symonette and Brad Montague will be the weekend’s keynote speakers.

Small Business Highlight

As I continue to be thoughtful and intentional with my resources, I am doing my best to spend my money locally. I’m not perfect, but I think any amount of change we make is meaningful, and as a small business owner I can promise you that anytime a person opts to purchase from you instead of a large corporation, it matters. I’ll continue to share a local shop I love in each newsletter moving forward. If you have a shop or offering you’d like to highlight, leave a comment or send me an email! I’d love to give you a shout-out in future newsletters.

Children’s Gifts: Underground Toys in The Commons, Traverse City
After a brunch date with my husband a couple months ago, we wandered around The Commons in Traverse City and visited Underground Toys. It is such a great children’s shop, with a ton of STEAM activities, and I love how its organized. There are various sections for different interests (including dinosaurs!), each with items geared for a range of age groups. We found a couple items to put in Easter baskets and to give my daughter last weekend on her second birthday. Highly recommend if you’re looking for gifts for little ones. Bonus: they have a kid’s play area just outside of the shop. My husband kept our daughter busy with their coloring pages while I shopped for surprises.

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Subscription Changes

At the end of 2024, I paused all paid subscriptions for the time being as I reimagine what this space looks like and work towards creating a regular habit of sharing again. I am so grateful to all the people who have offered their financial contributions to support my time here, and plan to offer this again in the future. My hope is to get back into a more consistent routine, and at that point, I plan to unpause the option for subscriptions.

For now, everything I write will be made available to all subscribers. If you’d like to financially support my writing, please consider buying a copy of my book, Lake Letters.

I hope you allow room for creativity and play this week. I know it sometimes feels frivolous, but I promise you: it isn’t. Mess around and see what you discover.

Cheers,
Mae Stier