Emotional Support Scaffolding for a Creative Life
Why poetry needs process—and the systems I lean on to keep my creativity moving and burnout (mostly) at bay.
I didn’t set out to run my business like a little an agency. It just sort of… happened. Slowly, then all at once. And to my surprise, it’s felt really sweet.
I’ve been doing creative work and social media for over 14 years, but when one of my closest friends—someone who knows me deeply and believes in me—asked if I’d help with her business about three years ago, something clicked. I didn’t have a plan or a pitch. She just trusted me. And that trust gave this part of my work a new kind of life.
From there, things grew naturally. Word of mouth, kind referrals, and a lot of learning along the way. I’ve just tried to keep following what feels true and let the momentum lead. I’m still surprised by how much I love it.
Lately, I’ve been following discipline, doubt, dailiness—and sometimes, if I’m lucky, something that feels like a swoon.
What’s kept me here is what’s always kept me: the stories. I have an instinct to tug at threads, to follow the small details that lead somewhere deeper. That’s what gets me. That’s what keeps me.
I love words. But pictures, light, texture, layers—those are stories too. The way something feels in your hands or stops you mid-scroll or stirs something tender in you. That’s art, too. Social media gets a bad rap (some examples come to mind), but when it’s rooted in care and curiosity, it can be a surprisingly tender, creative medium. And honestly, I’m interested in making it feel like that more often.
Still, even work that feels dreamy needs a backbone.
Over the years, I’ve come to believe that poetry and scaffolding are synonymous in a creative life. You need both. I've seen what happens—personally and professionally—when people try to build with only one. Burnout is real. Shame spirals are real. Misdirected resentment is real. And that’s why clarity, communication and good systems have become non-negotiable in my work. If you're going to build something beautiful, you also have to know how to hold it.
This is especially true if you’re neurodivergent (hi!). Many of us need external scaffolding to find internal calm. Executive function can be a moving target—and that’s not a flaw, it’s a feature. Without scaffolding, my brain is like a caffeinated moth in a vintage chandelier shop—attracted to everything, bringing home nothing.
As ADHD expert Dr. Russell Barkley puts it, “The problem is not knowing what to do. The problem is doing what you know.”
I’ve learned that process is part of my art. Without a rhythm to move inside—without scaffolding—I can’t access the dreamy stuff in a sustainable way. Disciplined romanticism, for me, means balancing the beauty with the bones. Letting the structure hold so the good stuff can rise.
Scaffolding as a Creative Practice
If you’re someone who thrives on ideas but recoils at the word “workflow,” I get it. But I’ve learned this: the scaffolding doesn’t stifle the magic—it protects it. When it fits your values and brain chemistry, it actually frees you to create.
Try this: Jot down the habits, tools or systems that actually help you keep going. Not the ones you should use. The ones that work—even imperfectly.
Ask yourself:
What helps me start?
What helps me return?
What helps me finish?
Here’s mine:
A shared Google calendar with my husband – so we’re not just guessing and to make the invisible labor visible to us both.
An Asana board with columns like working, needs review and ready to go live – helps me keep projects moving without holding everything in my head or scattered in my inbox.
Medication—after years of white-knuckling it, I recently started something to support my brain chemistry and it’s made a noticeable difference. It doesn’t change who I am—it helps me access more of who I am with less friction.
Rituals for transition moments — way too much espresso, playlists that shift depending on whether I’m writing or designing, incense to kick off deep work and a walk when the brain fog hits.
Notes app — for thoughts keeping my commonplace book of words, phrases, quotes and inspiration.
Friends who don’t take it personally when I disappear in the group chat — A very understanding group of friends who lovingly follow up when I forget things (I am an equal-opportunity bad texter)
Your list might look totally different. That’s kind of the point.
The goal isn’t perfection. It’s noticing what actually helps—and being honest enough to build around that.
Want to See My Full Workflow?
If you’ve been craving creativity but know you need rhythm to get there, I put together a look at the scaffolding I rely on each week. It’s just what’s holding the moving parts of my life—client work, personal writing, kid pickup, the occasional existential spiral—and helping me keep going.
You’ll find the full breakdown of the tools I use, my (very flexible) weekly rhythm, the boundaries that help me stay grounded, and a stylized peek at my actual Asana board—plus notes on how I use it—below, when you subscribe.
No pressure—but if you’re building something of your own and trying to find the balance between structure and soul, I’d love to share it with you.
Because here’s the truth:
Some days the work feels electric. Other days it’s Asana build-outs and rinse-repeat edits. But both are part of it. Both count.
SWOON wasn’t born from a lightning bolt. It came from years of building and un-building, showing up and trying again. It came from wanting to make sincere things that matter to me—even on a Wednesday.
So if you’re in the thick of it—in the middle of the middle: same. You’re not behind. You’re not off-track. This is the track.
A little romance. A lot of process. That’s the whole thing.
For Paid Subscribers: My Real-Life Creative Workflow
How I Build a Week That Holds the Work (and the Wonder)
Behind every dreamy idea is a system that keeps it from falling apart.
This is mine.
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to SWOON to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.