How to Create Without Performing

Take It or Leave It Creative Advice

Welcome back to another edition of Take It or Leave It—Create.Repeat’s weekend newsletter, where we answer real questions from the community submitted through Substack Chat and Instagram.

This week, a lot of the questions shared a common thread: feeling stuck.

Stuck in your space.

Stuck in your habits.

Stuck in your head.

If that’s where you’re at right now, I hope this issue helps you shake something loose.

We’re talking about what it means to create when your workspace is also your living space, how to break out of a creative rut, the tension between potential and procrastination, perfectionism and the pressure to perform, and how to find energy again when you’re completely drained.

And just a reminder—this issue is for paid subscribers (booooo!!)

But if you haven’t used your free trial yet, now’s the perfect time to see what you’ve been missing.

Subscribing is also the best way to support what we’re building here.

It’s just $5/month, and you can cancel anytime (but hopefully, you won’t want to).

Okay, let’s get into it.

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Hey @moldetek,

I know this feeling all too well.

You’re living in the same room you work in. The same room you create in. The same room you’re supposed to rest in. That blur between spaces can make it feel like every part of your life is bleeding together—and not in a good way.

It’s exhausting. It’s claustrophobic. And it’s hard to feel inspired when the walls haven’t changed in months.

But here’s what’s helped me.

First, recognize that this isn’t forever. It’s a season. And while it might feel stuck, seasons change, especially when you start to shift your approach.

When I’ve found myself in this exact spot, I’ve tried working in coffee shops, libraries, and even the park. Some days, it felt amazing—cosplaying as the screenwriter at the cafe, big-time main character energy. Other days, I just missed being home. The noise, the parking, the overpriced coffee, asking someone to watch your stuff while you use the bathroom for the third time in two hours, and being met with judgemental eyes… it added up.

That’s when I realized the goal isn’t to escape your space. It’s to transform it.

If you can’t leave your environment, make it into something you want to be inside of.

Clean the clutter. Light a candle. Rearrange the furniture. Put on music that makes you feel like the person you want to be. Even tiny shifts—a new lamp, a whiteboard, a sticky note on your wall—can rewire how you feel in a space.

I rearrange my space every 3–6 months just to manufacture that new energy. It sounds silly, but it works.

And here’s the deeper layer: sometimes it’s not the space—it’s what the space represents.

When we avoid our creative work, we often blame the environment. But the truth is, it’s easier to say “this room isn’t inspiring” than to say “I’m scared to start.” You might be telling yourself your space isn’t good enough to create in… when really, you’re just afraid to make something that doesn’t live up to your own expectations.

I’ve learned that my space usually reflects how I feel inside. When things are chaotic in my mind, my desk is a mess. When I feel intentional, my space becomes that way too. So sometimes, the first creative act isn’t picking up a pen or camera. It’s making your bed. It’s cleaning off the desk. It’s choosing to care about the room you’re in—even if it’s the same one you’ve been in for months, maybe years.

And if you can, try scheduling your time differently. Even if you can’t physically separate your spaces, you can separate your time.

Work hours. Creative hours. Rest hours.

Switch the playlist. Change the lighting. Use subtle cues to signal a shift in energy.

You don’t need a new apartment to start fresh. You just need a new approach. Even in this same room, you can still become someone new.

You’ve got this.

Thanks for the question!

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Hey @anja_bene,

Being stuck as a creative doesn’t just feel like you’re not making progress—It can start to feel like you’re disappearing. Like the part of you that dreams, that makes things, that wants more… is fading into the background, while life just keeps going without you.

I’ve been there. Honestly? I still find myself there more often than I’d like.

And here’s what I’ve learned: This weird, quiet, painful stretch where it feels like nothing is happening—this is part of the process. All of it counts. Even the standstills. Even the days where all you do is think about trying.

In my experience, feeling stuck is usually a sign that something is about to shift. You just don’t see it yet. Even asking this question is a sign that something inside you is already moving.

But I get it; living in a world that worships speed and constant output, it’s hard to feel okay about slow growth. Especially when social media is feeding you a highlight reel of people doing what you want to do—but 10x better, 10x faster, and somehow with better lighting.

Let me say this clearly: