Help… I’m Blocked (Already?)
A January creative block confession
Jan 06, 2026
Last week, I wrote about January belonging to the sketchbook.About daily practice.About showing up gently and letting the pages hold whatever came.
And here I am—not even a full week into the new year—feeling creatively stuck.
Not void of inspiration.Not burnt out or despairing.Just… flat.
I’ve played with some paint.I’ve started a few collages.I’ve opened my sketchbook and stared at the page.
But there’s no pull toward the next step.
No curiosity asking, What if you tried this?No quiet nudge saying, Stay a little longer.
Just a bit robotic. I’m going through motions but nothing makes sense.
There’s a sense of circling the same familiar moves—safe marks, half-formed layers, beginnings without desire to continue. The work isn’t bad. It’s just… not interesting.
So, I spent yesterday cleaning the art studio and sweeping up Stella hair that has been hiding from me for months. I reorganized my brushes. I cut a ton of gelli prints into small pieces for easy storage.
When I'm blocked, I clean and organize supplies.
That work helped me get back into my sketchbook today. Nothing fabulous. Nothing quite finished. But that’s ok. I’ll take that small step forward.
The awkward month of January
We don’t talk about this part enough.
January is often sold as a clean slate—a fresh notebook, a sharpened pencil, a sense of momentum. But there’s another version of January too. The one where the initial spark fades quickly. Where the weather is heavy. Where the nervous system is still catching its breath after December.
Sometimes the block isn’t resistance.Sometimes it’s information.
A pause asking us to notice rather than push.
✦ Miss Bitsy has thoughts ✦
Miss Bitsy clears her throat, adjusts her clipboard, and sighs dramatically.
“So let me get this straight.You declared January The Month of the Sketchbook and now you’re… stuck? Already?”
She squints at the half-finished collage.
“This is why I prefer goals with charts. And deadlines. And visible progress.”
I gently slide the clipboard away.
“Not everything needs to move forward right now.”
Miss Bitsy sniffs.“Well. I suppose even creative geniuses have… resting phases.But don’t get too comfortable.”
She retreats, muttering something about wasted potential—which, honestly, feels like progress.
What if the block isn’t the problem?
I keep thinking about how often we treat creative blocks as something to overcome—as if persistence alone will break them open. And sometimes that’s true. But sometimes a block is more like a closed door with a note taped to it:
Not today. Look somewhere else.
Maybe the question isn’t How do I get unstuck?Maybe it’s What am I being asked to notice right now?
Am I tired?Am I bored with my own habits?Am I craving input instead of output?Am I expecting the sketchbook to perform instead of simply keep me company?
An invitation (not an assignment)
If you’re reading this and feeling something similar—whether in your art, your writing, or your life—I want to invite you into a softer kind of reflection.
Not to fix anything.Not to make a plan.Just to check in.
You might ask yourself:
What does my creative energy feel like today?
Am I forcing momentum where rest or curiosity might be more forthcoming?
If I let go of “progress,” what would I be willing to do—or not do—right now?
What would it look like to sit beside the block instead of trying to move it?
You don’t have to answer these on a page. You can think them while walking, washing dishes, or staring out a winter window.
A gentle creative invitation
(No finishing required)
If you’re feeling blocked, flat, or simply uninterested in taking the next step, here’s a small invitation you can try—or not.
Set a timer for five minutes.
Open your sketchbook, journal, or notes app and do one of the following:
Make marks without intention—lines, shapes, smudges, scribbles.
Glue down one scrap of paper, image, or texture and stop.
Write a single sentence that begins with:“Right now, my creative energy feels like…”
Sit with the open page and notice what doesn’t want to happen.
When the timer ends, close the book.
That’s it.
No development. No improvement. No obligation to return.
This isn’t about creating something meaningful.It’s about staying in quiet relationship with the page—even when it has nothing to say back.
Staying in the conversation
I don’t have a tidy ending for this one.No five-step process.No triumphant breakthrough (yet).
What I do have is a willingness to stay in the conversation—with myself, and with you.
If this resonates, you’re welcome to share where you are right now—in the comments, in a journal, or quietly to yourself. There’s something grounding about realizing we’re not the only ones whose pages feel quiet in the long stretch of January.
The sketchbook still belongs to January.But maybe January also belongs to listening.
And maybe that counts as practice too.
— Jenn
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