A dimly lit room with blinds on the windows and a bike in the room
A dimly lit room with blinds on the windows and a bike in the room
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Not in the Mood Is Not a Creative Strategy

By
Paul Kiernan
(1.13.2026)

Creatives take a bit of ribbing, the occasional mockery for being sensitive. Artsy-fartsy, as my mom used to say. Creatives are often seen as delicate, hot-house creatures who must have things in an exact way; they must be in the mood, all the planets must align before they can create!

I’ve done it. In fact, I’m doing it right now. I’ll probably do it again this week. Who knows. I can’t help myself sometimes; I just have to do it. It’s not that I don’t like it, I mean, it’s not my favorite thing to do, but at times, it become necessity. Sometimes it just gets me through to the other side, where I can get things done. It’s a good release. It clears the mind. And sometimes, it even pays the bills. I’m talking about doing it, even when you’re not in the mood.

Gasp! The horror, whatever is he talking about? Doing it now? Being in the mood? Is this a ThoughtLab blog or an essay for an upscale gentleman’s magazine? Well, I don’t think anything I write could be construed as upscale, but yes, this is a ThoughtLab blog. Don't let your minds wander into the gutter; there are better sites for that kind of material. Hell, I’ve written for them. But right now, this day, this time, this blog is about creating even when you’re not in the mood to create.

Dirty minds.

I’m doing it right now. It’s Monday morning, and I am supposed to be writing a blog; however, the level of creative energy I have isn’t enough to power a burp. If burps needed power, like little burp batteries. Mine don’t; they live on their own and appear when they feel like it. Today, my creative mind doesn’t feel like it. I sit at my desk, fingers hovering over keys, and my mind says, “Meh, I’m not in the mood.” And once that happens, it’s pretty hard to get the gears turning and the ideas pumping. Might as well pack it in for the day, right? Wrong. Giving up isn’t an option, especially when there are deadlines and must-dos hanging over your head. When you’ve got to produce as a creative, it’s sometimes easier to find excuses than it is to do the work.

I’m Not in the Mood

… and other like excuses. And believe me, they are excuses. I’m going to share some hard truths about this, and these truths are for me as much as they are for you. Gird your loins, this might hurt a bit.

Creatives take a bit of ribbing, the occasional mockery for being sensitive. Artsy-fartsy, as my mom used to say. Creatives are often seen as delicate, hot-house creatures who must have things in an exact way; they must be in the mood, all the planets must align before they can create!

If you’re honest, you’ll cop to these. I do it too. I have my excuses, my avoidance techniques. I don’t have my favorite pen, or I need to be in a quiet room with absolute silence. Of course, that goes out the window when I think, no, I need to be in a crowded coffee shop, surrounded by strangers and the energy of that space. See that, it’s an excuse. And the excuse morphs to fit whatever avoidance I need at the time.

Sadly, these avoidance skills only reinforce the image of the creative as delicate, needing things exactly as they must be, or I cannot even face the canvas or the empty page. But what’s behind all this avoidance? How can a creative come up with so many creative excuses for not working when they say they are creatively dead? All good questions and ones we will be looking at in this blog.

A window in a brick wall with bars covering it

Why We Avoid

We are not lazy. Sometimes people say creatives just want to sit around and eat bonbons rather than work. Not true. The creatives I know, and I include myself here, love to work. We love the blank page or the empty space. There is a greater emotional rush at starting fresh, having the freedom to share and create something from nothing. It is a great feeling, the first sentence, the first day of rehearsal, the first photograph of the day. We live for that stuff. But some days the juices don't flow, and the ideas are dead on the vine. That doesn’t matter if you’re a working creative; you’ve got to produce, make it happen, show the client something, show the boss pages. Even if you’re not in the mood, the world still goes on, and you’ve got to do your job.

What might help is understanding what makes us avoid, and once you name them, it should be easier to set them aside a little so you can at least get started. Let’s look at a few examples.

Perfectionism & fear: We want it perfect, not just for the client or the general public, we want it to be perfect for us. We can see the flaws no one else does, and we know how it throws the piece off, and that is not possible. It needs to be perfect. And of course, nothing can be perfect, so if we hitch our wagon to this excuse, and then we’re going in circles. And there is fear that if it’s not perfect (but by whose standards are we judging perfect?), then it will be harshly judged. Most creatives put their heart and soul into the work, and judgment is not a welcome stranger at our door. We fear the judgment of not creating something perfect. Again, it’s good to understand that perfection is self-imposed. No one can say what perfect is, because it doesn’t exist. So, trying to attain the unattainable, coupled with the fear of being judged when it’s not attained, can hold the creative up.

Self-Doubt: This is a heavy one. The feelings that you’re not good enough or that your ideas are garbage create mental barriers we might not even be aware of, but they cause a breakdown in the flow. Also, imposter syndrome weights heavily here. The idea that you’ve been living on the edge of being caught, that someone will now discover that you don’t know what you’re doing, and the jig is up. None of this is true, but the mind will attach to these thoughts and absolutely cripple you.

Loss of purpose or direction: This is a big one. You’re working on a project that you’re initially into, and then something shifts, and you no longer feel as connected to the project as you once did. I have experienced this quite a bit of late; for me, it’s about not having all the information I need, so I am trying to get by with the little I have. This leads to doubt and fear. Also in this category is a sudden, unexplainable change of direction or loss of direction. If either of those occurs, then there’s a certain amount of walking in darkness with your hands out in front of you. You’re not sure what’s out there, or where you’re supposed to go, so the instinct becomes, I’m just going to stay here, where I know stuff, and it feels safe.

Overwhelming: Depending on where and how you ply your creative trade, there will be deadlines. For actors, there are tech, previews, and the opening. All that is on the calendar, and we are, hopefully, prepared for it. If that deadline gets close and the show is not ready, panic, fear, and infighting can happen. If you’re a creative at an agency, then complex projects with changing deadlines and the amount of work that’s demanded of you can overwhelm, and then the creative type just stops, and nothing can get done. It all feels like too much.

A pink rose stuck in a clear glass bottle

Oh, And Life

Don’t kid yourself, when you’re trying to be creative, life can get in the way and knock you back. You might not connect this to the work you’re doing, but if you dig a bit, you’ll find the connection, and it can be eye-opening. Here are a few life factors that can get in the way and stall the creative output.

Financial insecurity: This is a killer. The creative wants to do pure work, free from constraints and deadlines, free from bosses saying things like, “Can this be a little more blurk than floob?” Seriously, what the hell does that even mean? But instead of saying that, you bang your head on the wall and pray to all that’s holy that the meaning will appear to you and you’ll get it right. But needing the paycheck often causes creatives to just think, I’ll figure this out and avoid asking because if you ask, they’ll know you’re lost, and there goes the paycheck. Being a starving artist is less fun, and it becomes more difficult to produce work when you’re truly starving, and if you feel any mistake is going to take the ramen out of your mouth.

Overlapping work/life: If you’re a creative you know you keep a notebook in your back pocket or your pouch if you’re a creative kangaroo. You do this because creativity isn’t 9 to 5, and it never will be. You’re always “on the clock” when you’re a creative, and sometimes not being able to unplug and recharge can put you on a treadmill that you feel you can never exit, so you feel less and less like you’re being creative and more like a hamster on a wheel.

Burnout: The struggle is real, and burnout is a killer. This is the slow, creeping feeling that you’ve hit your limit, there’s no more in the creative tank, and things that used to excite you now feel like burdensome chores. Once you’ve burned out, you can step away and try again later, or sometimes it takes leaving the business for a while.

Isolation & a lack of common vocabulary: Most of the time, the really gritty creative work is done on our own. Creatives can feel very isolated in their work, and for most of us, isolation feels like punishment. Into this mix, we can drop the fact that creatives speak a very specific language. If there is no one else you can speak that language to, then it’s very much like being in a foreign country where you don’t speak the language at all. In this situation, even the simplest tasks feel like a long way to travel; no one understands you, and trying to get them to understand you feels like holding a guidebook and a translation book in your hands while you gesticulate like a crazy person. That lack of connection can cause these feelings of being siloed and hopelessness. Having someone to commiserate with is always better.

Now we poorly cope

There is a truth that some will cop to and others won’t, but it’s this: creatives usually do not have the best coping skills. Because creative work is so deeply personal, everyone who bats at it or questions it feels like the enemy to us. We perceive criticism as about us and not about the work. We jump to conclusions, “Well, my boss hates me,” and we feed on that until we’re dead. Some of the ways creatives poorly cope are easily identified.

Hide or withdraw: Not surprising at all. When creatives are stressed and unsure, one way to deal with it is to withdraw. They pull back and do all they can to avoid the perceived pressure and judgment. Note that it is perceived, and it is perceived by the creative. We are creative after all, so we can come up with elaborate scenarios to support our feelings and fears, and they become as real as cheese to us. However, the truth is usually that we’ve misunderstood a situation or we’ve taken it far too personally.

Procrastination: This is a killer. A creative will procrastinate out of fear of failure or perfectionism, or lack of inspiration, and the work goes beyond one deadline after the next. Procrastination is the worst because there’s no real point to it. If you’re afraid it’s not going to be perfect, that’s not going to change if you hide in your room and watch Cheers reruns for a week. Procrastination is particularly nefarious because it gives the creative the illusion of freedom and space, but it’s really just making the situation worse.

Abandonment: Simply put, the creative quits, walks away from the project. They are too overwhelmed by the pressure; they cannot find their mojo, and instead of muscling through it, it all feels hopeless, and they simply walk away. This is not a wise choice, as you can gain a reputation for quitting, and getting another gig may be impossible.

None of these are really viable options if you’re a creative and you want to work. But our personalities and temperaments often lead us to believe these are the only choices we have. Which is just not true.

A Chinese food take out box

The Takeaway

Here’s the thing I keep coming back to, even as I write this, even as I feel some resistance still hanging around in the room.

Being “in the mood” has almost nothing to do with doing the work.

It feels important, sacred, and like a prerequisite. But most of the time, it’s just another story we tell ourselves so we don’t have to sit with the discomfort of starting. The blank page doesn’t ask how you’re feeling. The deadline doesn’t care. The client certainly doesn’t. And somewhere along the way, especially if you’ve been doing this long enough, you realize that waiting for the mood is a luxury most working creatives don’t actually have.

What does matter is showing up. Imperfectly. Irritated. Tired. Distracted. Doubting yourself. All of it counts. Especially the days when it feels like it shouldn’t.

The strange thing is, once you start, once you put something down, anything at all, the mood often follows. Not always. Sometimes it never shows up. But the work still gets done. And more often than we like to admit, that work is better than we thought it would be. Or at least good enough to move forward. And forward is the whole point.

This is something we see again and again at ThoughtLab. Not just in creatives, but in teams, leaders, brands, and organizations that rely on creative thinking to survive. The ones who wait for perfect conditions stall. The ones who build systems, habits, and trust around doing the work anyway tend to move. Momentum doesn’t come from inspiration. It comes from action. From starting before you feel ready. From treating creativity less like a fragile mood and more like a practice.

That doesn’t mean ignoring burnout. It doesn’t mean pushing yourself into the ground, or pretending fear, doubt, and exhaustion don’t exist. It means recognizing them for what they are and not letting them be in charge. You can acknowledge all of it and still type the sentence. Sketch the idea. Rehearse the scene. Open the file.

Most days, that’s the job.

So if you’re not in the mood today, you’re in good company. Sit down anyway. Start small. Make something a little bit wrong. You don’t need fireworks. You don’t need permission. You don’t even need confidence.

You just need to begin.