The Artists Way Programme Reflection - Week 10

Week 10 was held by Elsie Cullen, founder of ourppls, marking another moment in this second year of holding The Artist’s Way programme together. Co-facilitated alongside Gloria Tergat, our community manager, the session carried a different kind of weight because it asked for honesty in places that are often overlooked.

This week's theme centred on protection. Not in a defensive sense, but in the recognition that creativity requires care. That in order to create consistently, we have to become aware of the habits, environments and patterns that interrupt our flow.

The conversation began with blocks. Not the obvious ones, but the normalized behaviours that slip under the radar. Endless scrolling. Overworking. Avoidance disguised as productivity. The ways we soothe ourselves that, over time, begin to take more than they give.

There was a shared acknowledgement that many of these patterns don’t feel harmful in isolation. But when repeated, they slowly pull us away from our own work.

One participant reflected on how much easier it feels to pour energy into other people’s projects rather than their own. Another spoke about the guilt they carry, even when they’ve met their responsibilities, and how that alone drains creative capacity. Others recognised how quickly personal routines can become shaped entirely around work, leaving little space for anything else.

What emerged wasn’t judgement, but awareness. And with that, a question: what is this costing me? The discussion then moved into work itself. Not just as a necessity, but as something that can become all-consuming. The idea of “workism” came up; the tendency to centre identity and worth around productivity. For many, this felt familiar because to many of us staying busy can feel safe. It provides structure, validation, and a clear sense of purpose.

But it can also become a way of avoiding the uncertainty that comes with creating something of your own. There was recognition that working for others often feels more straightforward than committing to personal ideas. The expectations are clearer and outcomes more defined. Whereas personal work requires self-direction, patience and trust, all things that can feel less stable.

Ranking our workaholism tendencies

Alongside this, there was an exploration of rest. Or more specifically, the discomfort that can come with it. Not doing anything can feel unfamiliar, even unsettling. Some shared that boredom is something they actively avoid, filling every gap with activity or distraction. But within the conversation, there was a shift in how this was framed. What if boredom isn’t something to escape, but something to move through?

What if it’s part of the process?

The idea of the “drought season” was introduced here. A period where inspiration feels distant, energy is low, and the work doesn’t come easily. Instead of resisting it, the invitation was to continue showing up. To keep writing, keep noticing, keep engaging in small ways. Not as a guarantee of outcome, but as an act of trust.

There was also a conversation around how success is imagined. The word “fame” was unpacked, not as an aspiration, but as a distraction. Something that promises recognition but rarely offers fulfillment. The idea of replacing it with something more grounded, like purpose or direction, felt more aligned for many in the group.

It led to a broader reflection: what does success actually look like?

For some, it was about recognition. For others, stability. For many, it was about feeling connected to the work itself, rather than chasing an external marker of achievement.

The final part of the session explored competition. Not as motivation, but as something that can quietly distort creative practice. Constant comparison shifts the focus outward, making it harder to stay connected to your own voice.

There was a useful reframe here. Instead of asking how you measure up to others, ask: did I move closer to what I care about today?

It’s a smaller question, but a more sustainable one. Throughout the session, there was also space for honesty about where people are at. Some have struggled to keep up with reading. Others have found new rhythms through journaling or artist dates. For some, our group sessions themselves have become the anchor, offering insight and momentum even when the rest feels inconsistent, and that felt important.

Responses to 'How have you allowed yourself to be 'bad' at something but still shown up to the work?'

Because by Week 10, the process is no longer about doing everything perfectly. It’s about staying in relationship with the work, in whatever way is possible. There were glimpses of this in how people are adapting. Turning everyday moments into artist dates. Bringing creativity into social experiences. Finding ways to engage that feel natural, rather than forced.

As we move closer to the final weeks, this idea of protection feels more defined. We are protecting our energy and time, and most importantly, protecting the part of you that is still willing to create. Because that, more than anything, is what sustains the work.

If you doing the book in community is something that you are interested in, you don't have to be part of our programme to benefit from the experience of bearing witness to the transformation of life through acts of creativity in community. Julia Cameron offers a 'Creative Clusters Guide' in the book with how you can gather with friends, family or colleagues to journey the book together.