I was burned out but couldn't figure out why. I was creating all day — just never away from a screen. So I did something I was explicitly told not to do.
I picked up a paintbrush.
I use AI every single day. I love it. It's woven into my writing process, my business, my podcast — basically every corner of my professional life. So when I tell you that one of the best things I've done for my creativity this year is pick up a paintbrush, I need you to understand the full weight of that statement.
It's not that AI stopped being useful. It's that AI started feeling like work.
And look, it kind of is work. Even when I'm doing something fun with it — brainstorming a new story, playing around with tools, testing workflows — there's always a screen involved. There's always a prompt to refine, an output to evaluate, a next step to optimize. My brain stays in "production mode" whether I want it to or not.
So when I found myself feeling burned out late last year — not just tired, but creatively flat — I knew I needed something different. Not a break from creating. A different way of creating.
The Middle School Art Teacher Who Almost Won
I've always loved color. Always. I can spend an embarrassing amount of time staring at yarn in a craft store or swatching eyeshadow palettes I absolutely don't need. Beautiful, vibrant color makes my brain light up.
But I never considered myself "an art person." I had one of those art teachers in middle school — you know the type — who basically told me I had no talent and shouldn't bother pursuing art in high school. I couldn't shade a circle into a sphere to save my life, and apparently that was enough to write me off entirely.
So I didn't pursue it. For decades.
Then one day, I was scrolling through my feed and got served an ad for watercolors. And something in me just… shifted. I looked at that ad and thought: You know what? I'm a woman of means now. I can buy some art supplies and figure this out for myself.
No gatekeeping art teacher. No grades. No judgment. Just me and some paint and the freedom to be terrible at something.
Trying All the Things
I went in with zero expectations and maximum curiosity. Watercolors. Acrylics. Gouache. Collage. Scrapbooking. I've been trying a little bit of everything because I genuinely don't know what's going to stick yet.
I have friends who keep gorgeous art journals or paint stunning watercolor florals, and I always looked at their work and thought, I wish I could do that. Turns out, the only thing stopping me was… me. And a decades-old memory of a teacher who didn't believe in me.
Am I any good? Absolutely not. I am a full-on beginner, and my results reflect that. But here's what I've learned after years of writing: I wasn't a great writer when I started either. That skill took me a long time to develop. Art will be the same. I'll figure it out as I go, and I'll get better at whatever I decide to focus on.
The point right now isn't to be good. The point is to play.
What Art Gives Me That AI Doesn't
The biggest thing? It gets me away from my computer. It's just me and the materials and maybe a podcast or an audiobook playing in the background. There's no screen. No cursor blinking. No output to evaluate.
I love the tactile feel of it — holding a brush, using scissors for collage, mixing colors on a palette. That serotonin boost I get from seeing all those beautiful colors? It's the same feeling I get browsing yarn or makeup displays, but now I'm actually making something with it.
I'll admit, the slowness was hard to get used to. My brain is wired for efficiency at this point. I've spent years optimizing workflows and building systems. Sitting down to paint something that takes 30 minutes and produces a result that a five-year-old could rival? That's a humbling gear shift.
But I've found my groove. I've been gravitating towards quicker projects lately — little pieces I can finish in a sitting. Book writing and knitting both take a lot of sustained time and focus, and I realized I needed a creative outlet that could fit into the smaller pockets of my day. Art does that perfectly.
Two Sides of the Same Coin
I want to be clear about something: this isn't an anti-AI post. Not even close. I still use AI every day. I still love what it lets me do. I still believe in it as a creative partner.
But doing hands-on art has given my brain breathing room. When I come back to my AI work after spending time painting or making a collage, I feel freer and more creative than ever. It's like the art clears out the mental clutter and makes space for better ideas.
I don't think AI and traditional art are in competition. I think they're two sides of the same creative coin. One is fast, iterative, and digital. The other is slow, tactile, and messy. I need both.
The One Hurdle
My only real obstacle right now? Space. I want to be making art every day, but I have a small house. I've cleared off some room on the dining room table to work, but I often have to pack everything up so we can, you know, eat dinner. It's not ideal, but it's what I've got, and I'm making it work.
If I ever get a dedicated art corner, watch out. You'll never hear from me again. I'll be buried in paint swatches and washi tape.
I'm not here to tell you to go buy watercolors. I'm not here to say that AI is draining your soul and you need to "touch grass" or whatever. That's not my style and that's not my point.
I just wanted to share where I am right now. I'm someone who lives and breathes AI in my creative work, and I found that I also needed something that was purely, messily, imperfectly mine. No prompts. No optimization. No deliverables. Just color and paper and the freedom to be bad at something new.
And honestly? It's been one of the best creative decisions I've made in a long time.
I will find something I love in the art world or DIE TRYING. (Okay, not really. But you get my drift.)
Have you picked up any new creative hobbies lately — especially ones that get you away from screens? I'd love to hear about it!