Our moods do not believe in each other
On the fragility of creative obsession
Welcome to SEE YOU—a companion for artists, thinkers, and analog lovers with ideas, inspiration, and reflections on living an intentional creative life.
Today I am sharing my learnings on trying to finish a creative project, without relying on the fickleness of mood or motivation. Join to follow along!
After a minor panic that greeted me on the first of July—half of the year has passed! What am I DOING? What have I DONE?—I have been hunkering to finish an illustrated story-zine hybrid project.
Working on a personal project—a thing that no one asked for, in between all the things that people are asking you for—is a tricky thing to do. I left all my other tasks behind while at a residency last month, fantasizing about emerging with something complete, and found that I couldn’t finish a damn thing.
Some artists can enter a vortex, work in a frenzy, and be completely drained and done once they emerge. When I try to will myself into a vortex and be consumed by my project, I quickly hit a breaking point. I am drained but not yet done and subsequently avoid the work for way too long.
While researching neurodivergence, I came across the word interoception—the ability to perceive one’s bodily states and signals, like hunger or fatigue. The word sounds so much like introspection—the act of examining one’s feelings and thoughts. Both happen inside the brain, but introspection works with mental constructs, whereas interoception works with bodily signals.
Neurodivergent folks typically struggle with interoception, despite engaging often with introspection. This shows up for me in a lot of ways—hyperfocusing on a task that I don’t get up to go to the bathroom until it is extremely urgent, yelling at my partner without realizing that I’m hangry, or not being able to recognize signs of burnout until it is too late.
While I would love to hyperfocus on my projects, following my mood and using it to my advantage, it is simply not reliable. I can’t make obsession happen on cue, and I can’t rely on it to last until a project is done. The worst part is that after hyperfocus wanes, it feels impossible to re-enter the work. My body has recuperated, but my mind has moved on.
I suspect, like me, you read creative interviews and advice in hopes that there will be a new tactic to try, some marvelous solution that saves you from the drudgery of repeatedly sitting down to do the work. There is none. There is none! You must do the work, bit by bit or all at once, depending on the project, regardless of the mood.
One of the most useful posts I’ve ever written for SEE YOU is “Minimum & Maximum creative time.” I wrote about the importance of setting both a bare minimum and a ceiling of time for creative work on a given day, based on one’s energy and schedule.
Minimum & maximum creative time
As a budding artist, there is one piece of advice you will hear time and time again: “Make art every day.” The purpose of this is simple: by making art every day, we are committing to our practice.
At the time of writing, I thought the minimum was the crucial piece—a measurable way to grow the habit of creating regularly without much pressure. Now that I have the wherewithal to theoretically spend an entire day on my creative project, I find that sticking to a maximum time is the key to sustaining long term work.
At the residency, I worked a little every weekday—usually between two and four hours of focused effort. Bit by bit, work was made, and I surprised myself by never feeling tired of my work.
Now that I’m settled back home, I’ve been chugging along again. My set maximum on my current project is two hours every weekday, with the help of coworking sessions like Mason Currey’s Worm Zoom or Cody Cook-Parrott’s Landscapes. If I enter hyperfocus and work longer than two hours, I am likely to skip the next day, rationalizing that I did so much the day before—thus beginning the cycle of avoiding my project. Setting a low maximum allows me to have enough fuel to keep going without making these excuses.
So I stick to my maximum timeframe, no matter how much or how little I get done, and call that enough. It’s through this drab dedication that this week, slowly but surely, I’ve landed on a project structure and made several more drawings than didn’t exist the week before.
🍿 I was invited by Brianna Schubert to contribute to her Inspiration Diaries series! If you’re curious to discover all the inputs I consume during a week in my life, the post is below:
✂️ Zine Lab, my zine making & publishing workshop, returns this August and meets every Tuesday for four weeks. Head here to find out more about the class and how to register.
🤫 The next Quietly Public coworking session for paid subscribers meets Wednesday July 15, 2 PM EST. Hope to see you there!









I LOVED reading through your week, Carolyn! My husband and I are self-employed/WFH and I have the ability to be flexy with my schedule, but I don't take advantage of it nearly as much as I'd like to. Thanks for letting us "tag along" with you—that was inspiring! I want to be intentional with my work, community connections, and how I seek out creative, beautiful experiences.
Oh as a fellow neurodivergent interoception is so interesting! Also I am very happy to read your substack as I find myself recently so obsessed with thinking about the act of creativity and inspiration and connecting all my many interests and obsessions somehow and channelling it into my art, but I kind of also feel lost and like I can’t find “my people” who would discuss these kinds of topics in depth?
I don’t know, I feel like I am blabbing and overthinking now. I guess I wanted to say: thank you for writing about these things 🩷