top of page
  • Black Facebook Icon
  • Black Instagram Icon

A Season or Two Ahead… Wait—Christmas in July?!

  • Writer: anartistslament
    anartistslament
  • Apr 2
  • 3 min read

Updated: Apr 16

Series: The Seasonal Disconnect: Working Ahead as an Artist Post 1


This is something I genuinely struggle with.


If you’ve ever tried to sell your art—especially digital products—you’ve probably heard the advice: “You need to be one… preferably two… seasons ahead.”


Which sounds perfectly reasonable… until you actually try to do it.


Because here’s the problem.


I’m inspired by the season I’m in.


Beach scene with three people paddleboarding on calm sea, distant horizon. Pebble shore, yellow umbrella on right. Clear blue sky.
Beach umbrellas and paddleboarders on the bay make it very hard to think of Christmas

It’s hard to think about Christmas when I’m standing in the middle of summer—sun on my skin, ocean air, long bright days. My brain isn’t thinking about snowflakes and pine garlands.


It’s thinking about light. Color. Movement. Warmth.


So when I sit down and try to design for a season that doesn’t match what I’m experiencing… it feels like trying to create from a place I’m not currently living in.


And that disconnect?


That’s where I get stuck.



The Tension


And yet… the advice isn’t wrong.


If you want your work to be found, shared, and purchased in time for a season, it has to exist before that season arrives.


People plan ahead. Platforms promote ahead. Buyers search ahead.


Which means, as artists, we’re often asked to live in two timelines at once:

  • The season we’re experiencing

  • And the season we’re expected to create for


And those two don’t always align.



Why This Feels So Hard (And It’s Not Just You)


I used to think this struggle meant I wasn’t disciplined enough.


That maybe other artists had figured out how to just… switch modes.


But the more I’ve paid attention to my own creative process, the more I’ve realized something:


Inspiration is deeply tied to environment.


It’s sensory.


It comes from what we’re seeing, feeling, and moving through in real time.


The colors around us. The light. The rhythm of our days. Even the temperature in the air.


So when we try to create outside of that lived experience, we’re not just “planning ahead.”


We’re asking our brains to work from memory instead of presence.


And that’s a completely different kind of effort.


Christmas tree with red and gold ornaments on a sandy beach at sunset, with gifts underneath and straw huts in the background.
Christmas in July. This is very hard for me to wrap my head around. Photo created by Wix AI Image maker.

What I’m Learning (Gently, Not Perfectly)


I don’t have this mastered.


But I am starting to see a few things that help.


Not as rigid rules—just as ways to make this feel a little less like forcing and a little more like flowing.


1. Capture ideas when they naturally appear  If I feel even a hint of “this could work for later,” I try to sketch it, jot it down, or save the color palette.

Not finish it. Just catch it.

Because future me will need something to work with.


2. Separate inspiration from production  There’s a difference between:

  • Feeling inspired by a season

  • And finalizing work for that season

I can let inspiration happen when it wants… and handle production more intentionally.

They don’t have to happen at the same time.


3. Build a small “future you” library  A few motifs. A few patterns. A few color palettes.

Nothing overwhelming.

Just enough that when it’s time to work ahead, I’m not starting from nothing.


4. Give myself permission for it to feel awkward  Because it does.

Creating out of season isn’t my natural rhythm—and maybe it isn’t yours either.

That doesn’t mean we’re doing it wrong.

It just means we’re learning how to work with a system that wasn’t designed around how artists naturally create.



A Small Reframe


Instead of thinking:

“I have to create Christmas in July…”


I’m trying to think:

“I’m leaving something helpful for future me.”


Not pressure.


Not urgency.


Just… support.


I’m still figuring this out.


Some days I lean into it. Some days I resist it completely.  And some days, I just make what matches the season I’m in and let that be enough.


But I’m starting to understand that this tension—between where I am and where my work needs to be—isn’t a flaw in my process.


It’s part of the work.


And maybe the goal isn’t to eliminate that tension… but to learn how to move through it with a little more ease.


Related Posts



Comments


Dixon-Valentine Studios.png

Join our journey.

Subscribe to get exclusive updates

© 2023 by An Artist’s Laments. All rights reserved.

  • Instagram
  • Facebook
bottom of page