And here we begin
there is something so beautiful AND intimidating about starting again
From a tiny industrial district about a ten minute drive from the city center of Stockholm, and a fifteen minute walk from my neighborhood, I am sitting at a messy desktop in my studio excitedly writing this piece with so much to say but not sure where to begin…
But how lovely to begin again with a blank slate that is this Substack newsletter.
Let’s start here: Ten years ago my life shifted in a big way. Just before releasing my first book (I Love My Hair) I met a man who swept me off my feet and together we planned a future that involved me moving from Baltimore to his hometown of Stockholm, Sweden. In the midst of falling in love, launching a new-ish illustration business and then a book career, I learned on my Becoming Me book-tour that I was expecting my first child—my sweet boy Isa.
There were a lot of beginnings happening all at once. Moving to Sweden, becoming a mother, a business owner abroad, and a wife overwhelmed me with the new and unknown. So much so, my spirit and body felt undone. It showed up in various ways. Over the years following my move, my anxiety had increased and my nervous system was overloaded. My shoulders lived up to my ears, lungs chipping for air, always tight, on edge, constantly anticipating another hurdle that often never came. I was (am) exhausted.
Can you relate? Can you remember a time when you had to begin again and it completely transformed, rocked, or ignited you?
After some deep excavating, listening and paying close attention to my body and my inner world, I remembered that creative expression is my place of solace. And in that calm I could process the new, I could embrace the unfamiliar and know that I had what it took to make it through whatever was happening in my world.
While starting a Substack newsletter is not much in comparison to big life changes, it is unfamiliar and it is something new. For me it is beginning again. To be naive and open and not tainted by the “rules,” I am coming to this space with not much knowledge about what it means to engage with you here. And I love that. We get to make this little corner of this platform whatever the f* we want and that’s what we will do.
Engaging with our creativity can help us navigate rough patches, be present in the storm, and liberate our minds. Like it did for me when trying to cultivate community in a new city, finding care for an aging parent back in the U.S., or nurturing a design and illustration business during these times.
With that, my only intention here is to share some ideas and musings with you in the hopes that we all feel free to create what we want. And perhaps sometimes do so together. Because when we create, we come back to ourselves. When we come back to ourselves we can better formulate ideas and solutions to then transform our communities (for the better).
I hope you will come here for inspiration, for prompts to spark your curiosity, or for a self-nurturing moment of respite from the adventures of life. Here we can reinvigorate our creative pursuits, or begin a new one. Welcome to When We Create.
Until next time, here is a prompt for you to consider in your creative practice:
Reflect: How does—————— (insert your thing: writing poetry, taking photographs, dancing, collaging) make you feel?
Prompt: For the next few weeks document in a journal, notebook, or sketchbook what it feels like for you. This means you’ll have to engage in your creative activity of choice, and then pay close attention to what it feels like in your body, your spirit, and in your heart when you do. Are there images, textures, colors, or sounds that represent those feelings? Doodle, write a poem, collage, free write words or thoughts that come to mind when you are expressing your creativity. Capture it all in a space (journal, digital notebook, etc.) you can come back to.



What a lovely first Substack. I’ll make sure to marinate on the creative prompt all throughout the month. ❤️
Glad to see you here, Andrea! 🥰