Slow Seasons

The value of quiet times.

Let’s talk business. If you are the boss, employee, accountant, CEO and overall ball-buster of your own one-woman/one-man operation, let’s talk. Specifically, let’s talk about the slowwww season. If you are like me, perhaps you are wearing all hats, and when things are ticking along, you feel invincible. All your hard work is paying off! Clients are pouring into your inbox - or in my case, lovely, eager and curious people are popping through the door every weekend, eager to learn. Does this all sound familiar? You’ve built something with your own lil hands (and probably your own tears), and when it’s humming, it feels like you’re doing exactly what you were meant to do. There’s momentum. There’s validation. There’s that magical sense of alignment. And then—quiet. The bookings slow. The emails dry up. The calendar, once overflowing, suddenly feels a bit... roomy. This, my friend, is summertime.

While this cycle can feel ominous and a little unsettling, especially to us creative types, there is deep value to be found in the slow seasons. Not just in business, but in life. The truth is, when things are ticking along and you don’t have time to worry or even think new thoughts, the slowness can feel particularly threatening. Let’s speak to that fear head-on, and talk about the ways in which the slow season can be unscary… and even good.

Fill up your own cup

None of us should be on social media as much as we are, especially in the summer. Come on! We need sunshine, face-to-face community, and fresh air. That goes for you as much as it goes for your online community. So you find yourself showing up. Promoting your art, or your creative project, or your new business project, only to hear crickets. So when the slow season starts to hit, take a little bit of time to be ‘irresponsible’. Get out into the sunshine, recharge your batteries, so that you can return to the drawing board fresh and energized. Slow periods are something we should accept as a glorious part of our business/studio/home lives. But because we don’t build them in with intention, we end up pushing though month after month. Burning ourselves out. Making us just sad. Forgetting what the point of the whole thing is…

The Comparison Trap

I know a few artists who do very well on the internet. They seem to be thriving allllll the time. Their timelines are full of cool, interesting projects and people—collaborations, commissions, features, workshops in faraway places. It can make you feel a bit like a failure, like you missed some secret memo about how to always stay booked and busy. But when you speak to them candidly, you quickly discover that they’re struggling just like the rest of us—just more glamorously. They have quiet spells, self-doubt, burnout, all of it. The feed is a highlight reel, not the full picture. I always remind myself of this, not just when I’m starting to get a bit worried that business is drying up, but any old time that negative voice creeps in. The one that whispers, You’re falling behind. You’re not doing enough. Maybe it’s over. That voice is a liar. And comparison is its favorite trick.

What you need is a good ol’ reframe

I have been fortunate to work for myself in one way or another for most of my adulting life. Running a community-based shop, freelance artist, historic conservator and repair studio boss. And every single year I have encountered slow seasons. And much like my monthly cycle, it always caught me by surprise. I just kept swimming, goldfish-esque, seemingly oblivious to the patterns. It was only when I tuned into the rhythm that I could finally use the knowledge that I had access to all along to my advantage. In my first full year of running the studio, the winter months were so busy I thought I might have to hire help. Things can only go up from here! I thought like a fool skipping towards a cliff while looking directly at the sky. So when business violently dropped off a cliff as soon as the weather warmed up, I thought I was done for. I was kind of just aimlessly rolling through days, wondering if business would ever come back. And you know what…. just like in every other example I had been presented with, it did. Bust instead of truly resting during those periods, generating ideas and using the slow season like a wise woman should, I was always partially on edge, so that by the time things picked up again, i was relieved, but exhausted from worry.

The day you plant the seed is not the day you eat the fruit

The quiet of a slow season can offer so much. Space for rest, reconnection with original purpose and the opportunity to strategically daydream about your next moves without pressure of needing to execute. A little audit, if you will, of the meaning of the work you are doing. Whether that work is the work that supports you, or the work of raising a family. You can apply this to all aspects of your life. Life has fallow seasons for a reason.

Now, I’m not here to tell you to turn your slow season into a productivity bootcamp—that kind of pressure defeats the whole purpose. But sometimes, if the mood is right and the energy is there, I’ll gently lean into the quiet and use the time to check in with the back end of things. Maybe I’ll revisit my booking schedule, tidy up the website (honestly, it could use a little love), or finally tackle that idea I scribbled in a notebook six months ago and forgot about. Less pressure, more curiosity. Some days, the most productive thing I do is make a slow lunch or take a walk without the old ball-and-chain (phone). And honestly? That counts too. Rest is part of the work. Reflection is part of the work. Letting your brain and body breathe might just be the best “strategy” you could ever implement. This is a pep-talk for me as much as for you.

So if you’re in the thick of a slow season right now, take heart. You’re not doing anything wrong. In fact, you’re probably doing a whole lot right. These quiet stretches aren’t failures—they’re invitations. To pause, to recalibrate, to rest without guilt. The world will speed up again, the emails will come, the bookings will return. In the meantime, be kind to yourself. Trust the rhythm of your work, even when it feels out of sync. You’re still building something real here, even in the quiet.

See you at the park.

Love,

T.S.C.