Have you ever felt caught in the ebb and flow of creativity—the excitement of a new idea followed by the weight of self-doubt, the urge to finish something only to feel pulled toward starting again? You are not alone. Creativity moves in cycles, inviting us to trust the winding path rather than resist it.

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about creative cycles—how we move between flow and resistance, excitement and doubt, completion and the urge to begin again. The process of making anything—whether a painting, a book, or a life—rarely follows a straight path. It loops and doubles back, asks us to pause, to trust, to begin again.

And in that winding journey, I’ve noticed something: the way I approach painting is not so different from the way I approach writing (or life).

With painting, I can set a piece aside when I’m stuck, when I don’t like it, or when it has reached that ugly stage where I don’t know what else to do. I let it rest while I work on something else—sometimes for days, weeks, or even years. And when I return, I don’t feel the need to cover the whole thing and start fresh. Instead, I ask myself, What don’t I like about this? Then I replace those parts with something I know I’ll love—often just a color that excites me, like cobalt teal or turquoise. Once I’ve done that, I can see it more clearly with fresh eyes. Sometimes, I don’t even need to make changes. Distance alone allows me to see what the painting needs.

Writing, though, has always felt different. I revise endlessly, adding and reworking entire sections, always feeling like the piece could be better. I often overcommit, juggling multiple projects at once, and when I finally complete something—especially with my writing—I feel good about what I’ve achieved, yet somehow small in comparison to others. My work isn’t good enough, never will be, I tell myself. And that makes me want to move on to a new project or return to an old one rather than move forward with agent submissions. I go back, I rewrite the entire thing, reach that place where I want to give up, and the cycle repeats.

So this week, I’m returning to my new writing project, allowing myself to enjoy the writing process—but this time, with a commitment to finishing my first draft. I don’t want to wait another year only to come back and rewrite everything again. Does this happen to anyone else?

Maybe the key isn’t in forcing myself to finish but in approaching my writing the way I approach my painting—giving it space, stepping away when I’m stuck, and trusting that I’ll know when it’s ready.

Right now, I’m feeling this lesson unfold in real time. I’m in Paris, soaking up so much inspiration—wandering busy streets, sketching in cafes, visiting museums, taking in colors and light in a way that feels like filling my creative well. And in just a few days, I’ll be heading to the Loire Valley to teach at my France Retreat. I can’t wait to share this experience with my retreat guests, to create in the presence of so much beauty, to let inspiration seep into the work we make together.

So if you, too, are caught in the loop of creative doubt, know that you’re not alone. Keep going. Keep trusting. The work will be ready when it’s ready. And when it is, you’ll know.

If you want something to help you get started, I’ve put together my Watercolor Joy Mini Course.

Wherever you are in your creative cycle, I hope you meet yourself with kindness today. Trust that every step—every pause, every doubt, every small act of making—carries you forward in ways you cannot yet see.

With love and creativity,

xo Juliette

All photos and artwork by Juliette Crane. This essay was originally published on my Substack, Living The Way Of The Happy Painter.