Something magical happened the other day—I was dared.

Ever since high school, when a friend dared me to kiss my crush on a school camping trip, I’ve found it almost impossible to turn down a dare. Thankfully, as an adult, I no longer need external prompts to take action, but this particular challenge arrived as a beautiful confirmation that I am on the right path. A full-circle moment.

I had just finished reading an essay by my dear friend and mentor, Beth Kempton, called What is Wrong With Me – A Vulnerable Share About Friendship, in which she reflects on her writing life and her friendship with author Holly Ringland. Inspired, I left this comment:

“I have multiple manuscripts saved and waiting, and more and more, reading essays like this and hearing from other writers and authors reminds me that it’s time to send my work out into the world again. Thank you for the inspiration and courage!”

To which Beth replied: “I dare you, Juliette!”

A dare!

As it happened, I had just been invited to submit something to a magazine. In that moment, I decided to send the first 10,000 words of my novel about a woman who can jump into her paintings. And then, I committed to submitting my finished manuscripts to agents again, instead of letting them continue to gather dust on my desktop.

Immediately, my inner critic jumped in: You don’t have time for this. What about all the other projects you’re juggling? You’re in the middle of a painting collection and teaching a retreat in France. Shouldn’t you finish that first?

But I knew the answer. I didn’t want to waste another minute. So I took the dare. And then, I started making a list.

I asked myself the hard but liberating questions: What’s the worst that could happen? What if no one reads these stories? The truth? That would be far worse than rejection. So I shifted my stuck energy and got help where I needed it.

That dare reminded me of something bigger—my dream of writing and publishing books. My novel, my middle-grade book, my non-fiction book, my picture book, my coloring books. Why hadn’t I continued to move forward on those projects again? It would be easy to criticize myself, but instead, I decided to reach out to you.

Have you ever felt this way? Overwhelmed by too many creative projects, unsure where to focus? You know you need to pick just one and see it through, but how do you choose? The new painting collection? Submitting to galleries? That fiction novel? The nonfiction book proposal? The novel you can’t stop thinking about?

I tend to scatter. I leap between projects, rarely finishing one before moving on to the next. I don’t always put the right systems in place to allow for breaks or the support I need to follow through.

When my husband and I ran my company together, we had weekly meetings. I was the dreamer, the idea generator. He helped me focus, narrow things down, and get things done. He often said, No, we can’t do all of that. Choose one.

Now that he runs his own business, I’ve tried to be that focused person for myself. I’ve connected with other business owners, but it’s not the same. And I’m only now recognizing my pattern: I get excited about an idea, but when things get difficult—when there’s no deadline, when rejection comes—I shift gears.

But today, I want to talk about flow. And choice.

When you make a living from your creativity, everything blends together. I’ve been doing this for fifteen years, and if you’ve read this far, you know that creativity doesn’t fit into a tidy box. It spills over, intertwining with daily life in unexpected ways. When I try to contain it, the artist in me rebels. But how do you move forward when there’s so much you want to do, so much you want to be, and life is constantly pulling you in different directions?

This past year has been hard—for me, for many of us. Heartbreak, illness, loss, change. I want to lean on my creative practices for healing. Through my courses, coaching, and retreats, I encourage others to embrace their creativity. And in doing so, I’ve realized how bottled-up my own artist has felt. So I made a commitment: get into the studio daily. Sometimes, I have to trick myself—I tell myself I’ll just go in, sit down, and do Wordle. No pressure. But inevitably, I turn on some music, see my paintings from the day before, and begin again.

Elizabeth Gilbert talks about ideas as living entities that seek out the most available human collaborator to bring them to life:

Lately, a new novel idea has been percolating. The artist in me says, But I’m painting right now. The business side says, You’re in the middle of a new collection, you have a nonfiction proposal to finish and a fiction novel to submit—why don’t you do that first? Get some traction, then start something new.

But I resisted. I started the new novel anyway. And I’m having a blast! We’ll see where it leads.

I hired an artist manager last year to help me stay focused and submit my paintings to galleries. I finally put systems in place to create space for both creativity and follow-through. But I’ve realized that at a certain point in every project, I freeze. I get stuck in the details—the need to be organized. When it comes to creating, I have no problem. But the small steps trip me up; they make me stop, stall, spin out, and shut down. Rejections can be especially derailing. I start something new, something easier, and it takes me a long time to return to my original momentum—if I ever do.

A few weeks ago, I was taking Beth Kempton’s Substack class, Write for Love. Write for Money. We talked about the power of accountability, which is another reason I wanted to write this essay and share it with you. In a way, I suppose this is its own kind of dare—now it’s out there, and I am taking action. Let the manifestation begin.

So, consider this your dare. If you’ve been waiting for the right moment to begin—or begin again—take this as a sign. Pick up the brush, write the words, submit the work. Say yes to your creativity.

For a long time, I thought I had to do this alone. But I’ve come to see that creativity thrives in connection, and there is a whole community of artists and writers walking this path alongside me. Being part of this space—among so many kindred spirits—has been a gift.

If you’d like to paint alongside me, I’d love for you to join my live Zoom class tomorrow—Saturday, March 1st, from 2–4:15 EST. Can’t make it live? No worries. Everyone who signs up gets the recording.

Also, exciting news—two single rooms just became available for my painting retreat in France this May! If you’ve been thinking about it, this could be the perfect opportunity. I’d love for you to be part of a week filled with color, connection, and inspiration in the French countryside.

Happy painting!

xo Juliette