Dear Creative Diary,
There’s a white denim jacket draped over one of the tables at The Creative Jam.
It’s been there long enough to collect dust and good intentions.
In my mind, it’s ablaze—covered in a hand-painted phoenix, fluorescent wings stretching across the back, unapologetic in its glow.
In reality, it’s still blank. Crisp. Quiet.
Next to it is a wood panel meant to become a barn quilt, and a pristine pair of white sneakers that I swore would become a floral masterpiece.
They sit among the scraps of other projects—half-cut cardstock, bits of vinyl, unraveled yarn—and quietly whisper,
“Hey. Remember us?”
They are not forgotten.
They are the dreams deferred by a thousand things that somehow felt more urgent:
an instructor agreement that needed finishing
a leak that needed patching
a paint night that needed planning
a toilet that needed plunging
a grant that needed just one more perfect sentence
a set of plants that could not go one more day without water
another contractor to meet
another email to send
another class to list
another deadline to meet
And when I finally sit down with a cup of tea and a few precious minutes to myself, I see them—those projects—and my brain says, “Not now. You’re too tired to do them justice.”
And so they wait.
And wait.
And wait.
I think there are more of us like this than we realize.
People whose creative energy is still burning,
but buried beneath the mountain of must-dos,
shuffled behind family, jobs, errands, and emotional exhaustion.
People who don’t need more ideas.
They need space.
Time. Permission. Presence.
And that’s why I started Paper Jam.
Except… I might have messed up the name.
Because it’s not just about paper.
Not just about scrapbooking (though scrapbookers—you are still wildly welcome).
It’s about the projects you shoved in a drawer three seasons ago.
The crafts you bought supplies for and then never started.
The jacket you dreamed of painting
but never had a moment to breathe, let alone begin.
So maybe it needs a new name—something that captures the spirit of it better.
Because this isn’t a retreat for scrapbookers.
It’s a retreat for dreamers. Finishers. Starters.
People are ready to say, “I want this time to be mine.”
It’s not a class. It’s not a performance.
It’s not about being productive, or perfect, or impressive.
It’s just… finally sitting down and beginning.
Or picking something back up with both hands and saying,
“I still want this.”
The white denim jacket is still blank.
But maybe, at the next whatever-we-call-it Jam,
I’ll finally paint the first feather.
—Me, the one who is considering a new name for the creative retreats… how about “Not Just Paper Jam”?
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