Creative Frome: A Wellbeing Guide to Living More Creatively in Everyday Life
Discover how to bring more creativity into your everyday life in Frome. From Black Swan Arts to Made at Nest, explore a wellbeing guide to creative places that help you slow down, reconnect, and feel better.
There’s something about Frome that makes creativity feel like part of everyday life, not something reserved for weekends or special occasions. It’s in the windows, the workshops, and the sense that people are making things because they want to, not because they have to. And when life feels full or a little unclear, creativity offers a way back, giving us somewhere to place our attention, our hands, our thoughts.
Why creativity matters for wellbeing
Creativity isn’t just about producing something beautiful or impressive. It’s about process. It’s about making space for curiosity, for play, for noticing what draws you in.
When we engage creatively, even in small ways, we step out of constant consumption and into participation. We soften the pressure to have all the answers and instead follow something more alive: interest, instinct, experimentation. Creativity can regulate our nervous systems, reconnect us to ourselves, and remind us that we’re allowed to make things imperfectly.
In a town like Frome, that invitation is everywhere.
A wellbeing prescription for a more creative life in Frome
Start with wandering. Let yourself be led by what catches your eye, not what you think you “should” do.
Here are some of our favourite places to seek out creativity:
Black Swan Arts
Set in a beautiful old building, Black Swan Arts is a community-driven contemporary arts centre that supports local and emerging artists through exhibitions, open studios, and workshops. You might come for a specific show, or simply to wander through and notice what resonates. It’s a reminder that creativity takes many forms and that you don’t need to understand it all to be moved by it. Also check out The Write Place, a cosy place to work on that novel hidden away on the top floor.
The Silk Mill Studios and Gallery
Part gallery, part working space, The Silk Mill offers a closer look at creativity lived out by the artists who work here. There’s a sense of getting to witness the in-between stages—the sketches, the half-finished pieces, the process itself, challenging the idea that creativity needs to be polished to be worthwhile. With a rotating series of exhibitions, workshops and events there’s often something here to expand your world a little.
Ground
At the top of Catherine’s Hill, you’ll find Ground, a studio and shop created by the potter and artist Fi Underhill. Here you’ll get a sense that creativity can both be something you make and something you engage with. Take one of the gorgeous ceramic mugs home with you, so that an everyday, almost throwaway moment drinking your morning coffee becomes even better.
Made at Nest
Made at Nest is a welcoming pottery studio and coffee shop that invites you not just to buy something creative, but to try making something yourself. It offers a gentle nudge towards participation rather than perfection, and you’ll feel free to paint vases and bowls, tiny bears and exuberant elephants to your heart’s content. Oh and there’s cake.
Still Life Gin
There’s creativity in flavour too. At Still Life Gin, the process of distillation becomes its own kind of craft—thoughtful, sensory, experimental. It’s a different lens on creativity, one that invites you to taste and notice, not just look. You can also book sessions to make your own gin blend.
Seed
Seed is a thoughtfully curated shop filled with the best of British design from homewares, stationery, and objects that bring a sense of life and intention into your space. It’s a reminder that creativity can be as simple as how we care for our environment—what we surround ourselves with, what we bring in, and how we make a space feel like our own.
You don’t need to become “a creative person” to live more creatively. You just need to follow what feels interesting, even if it seems small or ordinary.
If you’re looking for more places like these—spaces that help you reconnect, explore and feel a little more like yourself—browse our guide for life. It’s filled with creative corners, thoughtful businesses and everyday places that make life feel better, one visit at a time.
Oh, and if you run a local place that you think would be perfect for our guide, apply to be part of our collection of places for happier days here.
What to Do When You Feel Creatively Empty
How to Reclaim Your Energy, One Small Practice at a Time
You know the feeling. That bone-deep tiredness that no nap or green juice will touch. The ideas that once came freely now feel flat. The excitement that used to buzz in your chest has turned to static.
If you’ve been feeling creatively empty — like your spark has left the room — you’re not broken. You’re burnt out, or as entrepreneur and founder Liana Fricker calls it, maybe you’re just in a “burndown.”
When Liana hit burnout — again — in 2023, she realised that it wasn’t a one-off collapse. It was part of a repeating pattern. She’d push hard, build momentum, connect dots, gather people, spark ideas — and then, suddenly, the tank was empty. She had to start “by designing my work life and just my general life in such a way that creates that space so I can stay open.”
Liana calls herself an “idea-laying machine.” But even machines need power sources — and her old ways of working (and marketing herself online) weren’t sustainable anymore.
So she began to experiment. To unlearn. To ask a different set of questions:
What if I stopped performing consistency and started trusting my energy instead?
What would work look like if it was slower, tactile, real-world?
What if connection — not content — was my strategy?
These are some of the wellbeing practices and mind shifts that helped Liana rebuild creative energy — not by working harder, but by reimagining what “working” means.
Each one is a quiet act of resistance against burnout culture, and a reminder that creative energy is not infinite but it is renewable.
1. Stop Performing Consistency — Start Practising Self-Trust
The advice we’re given online — “be consistent!” — often misses the truth that not all brains or energy cycles work in straight lines. For Liana, the key was designing routines that flowed with her energy, not against it.
She now plans her month in cycles: high-energy weeks first, slow restoration later. Some weeks are for ideas, others are for Antiques Roadshow and weighted blankets.
“If all I could do was meditate in a sauna and watch Antiques Roadshow with my weighted blanket at 3 p.m. on a Wednesday, I can do that. Because that might be what the burndown needs, right?”
Try this: Instead of scheduling every day equally, design your calendar like a tide chart. Plan creative work during your high-energy phases, and build in restorative “ebb” weeks.
2. Redefine Burnout — and Learn Your ‘Burndown’ Pattern
Liana differentiates between burnout (the big collapse) and burndown (the mini energy crashes that happen every few weeks).
When you start to recognise these smaller cycles, you can respond before the full crash.
Notice:
Do you have predictable weeks of high motivation followed by emotional flatness?
Do you overcommit when your energy peaks?
Can you give yourself permission to pause before you’re forced to stop?
Reframing burnout as cyclical rather than catastrophic helps turn it from a crisis into data — something you can observe, not judge.
3. Design for Energy, Not Productivity
“I think if you're someone who suffers from quite big burnouts or you've had a few in your life and you're over the age of 40, you may want to take a step back and ask yourself, what is this internal engine that keeps making me run at full speed, ultimately off a cliff?”
So she began to design her days not for output, but for energy flow. She created conditions that help her stay open — like attending real-world gatherings, limiting context-switching, and making space for brainfood conversations.
“I absolutely came home buzzing with energy, being in a room, in a curated space. It didn't feel too overwhelming, but just with so many interesting people telling me interesting things, that kind of cup is very full.”
Try this: Once a week, replace a Zoom call with a walk, a museum visit, or a local event. Think of it as refuelling, not slacking. Creative energy is relational.
4. Feed Your Brain (and Body) With Connection
Liana describes herself as “best with a spark” — someone whose creativity ignites in conversation.
That spark doesn’t come from scrolling; it comes from connection. The quick chat with a stranger, the serendipity of a room, the awkward but alive feeling of being seen.
“Whereas if you're on your phone or on your laptop, it's like the closest you'll ever get to an invisibility cloak, right? You can choose whether to engage or not.”
For those feeling creatively apathetic, connection might be the antidote — not to produce something, but to remember what it feels like to be moved.
5. Reframe ‘Anxiety’ as Excitement
A subtle but powerful reframe:
When your heart races before a new project or social event, what if it’s not anxiety — but excitement?
“The moment when I realized that what I would have described as anxiety was excitement was huge for me. Because even calling it anxiety changes the relationship with it. It's something to stop doing.”
Reinterpreting physical sensations as energy — rather than threat — can turn overwhelm into motion.
6. Build a Creative Ecosystem
Liana also began thinking about wellbeing like professional athletes do: as a team effort.
“There's no athlete that goes to the Olympics that does not have a sports psychologist and a physio and a chef and because the machine is this integration it needs specialists.”
That might mean therapy, coaching, accountability partners, or simply the people who remind you to rest.
7. Let Rest Be an Act of Mastery
Creativity needs stillness. For Liana, that looked like allowing emptiness — even boredom — without guilt.
“I was absolutely an empty vessel. There was no guilt because there was no energy for guilt. There was no shame because there was no energy for shame. Like, right. I was just empty.”
This is her glass of water philosophy:
“You know no one's gonna say how dare you have a glass of water. Why are you getting up to get a glass of water? What? You are gonna fail. Sometimes my glass of water is antiques roadshow.”
Creative fatigue, burnout, apathy — these aren’t signs of weakness. They’re signals. Your body is trying to tell you something.
When you stop trying to perform consistency and start listening to those signals, you create space for something far more powerful than productivity: self-trust.
And maybe, what looks like burnout is actually your creativity asking for a different kind of rhythm — one that includes silence and conversation, slow design and sparks of engagement.
If you want to explore these ideas further, listen to my conversation with Liana on the podcast A Thought I Kept.
Need some support as you navigate life’s ups and downs, explore our 1:1 coaching sessions.
Creative Self-Care For When No-one is Watching
Feeling stuck or disconnected from yourself? Discover how creative self-care can restore emotional wellbeing — and why creativity might be exactly what you need during life transitions.
I used to think being creative meant having the right aesthetic. Saying the right things. Looking the part.
It was the '90s, and I wanted to be like Maggie O’Connell from Northern Exposure — all-black wardrobe, self-contained, mysterious. When I landed an internship at New York’s Museum of Modern Art, I leaned into that persona hard. Black turtlenecks, boots, cynicism. I belonged. Or at least, I looked like I did.
But the longer I stayed in the art world, the more disconnected I felt. I was writing gallery texts and walking through exhibitions before they opened, surrounded by creativity but somehow far away from it. I had become someone who performed creativity — without actually feeling it.
Then I remembered my mum and what real creativity looked like for her. My mum didn’t care about art-speak or curation. Her creativity was visceral, chaotic, healing. It was hers.
She made clocks, hundreds of them. Covered in sparkles, stars, pinks, purples. Scribbled on with felt-tip pens. For three years, she attended creative wellbeing sessions at our local town’s Art Room, a space a long way from sleek museums. Those mornings were her reset. Her way back to herself.
When she died, she left us the clocks. They’re in wardrobes, on bedroom walls — small reminders of making something just because you need to.
I didn't realise it then, but the idea of creativity was shifting for me too. I wasn’t calling it burnout at the time. I wasn’t saying I was “lost.” But things were shifting. I was tired. Flat. Uncertain. The things that used to light me up didn’t anymore. I kept pushing forward — working, parenting, managing but underneath, something was fraying.
That’s when I started to wonder if creativity could help me find my way back to myself too. Not the polished, performative kind, but the one you do when no one’s watching.
The Link Between Creativity and Wellbeing
What my mum knew instinctively, science now confirms: creative expression can be a powerful tool for wellbeing.
Even simple acts like doodling, journalling, taking photos, and collage can reduce stress, increase positive emotions, and help us feel more like ourselves. Studies in the field of positive psychology link creative practices to improved emotional regulation and resilience.
And the best part? You don’t have to be “creative” to benefit from creative self-care. You just have to make something. Or start.
5 Ways to Reconnect with Creativity During a Life Shift
If you’re in a season of change, burnout, overwhelm, or confusion — here are a few small ways to begin again:
Create something without a plan — a collage, a playlist, a scribble.
Take a creative walk — snap one photo every 5 minutes.
Try a “morning pages” style journal — three uncensored pages first thing.
Colour outside the lines — literally. Get all the pencils and get messier.
Find your kitchen-table creativity — the kind where you get to play.
The Wellery: A Space for Creative Self-Care and Collective Living
Inside The Wellery, our group space for curious, compassionate wellbeing, we’re currently exploring creative self-care as our theme.
Each quarter, we meet for a Co-Well: a group experience to anchor yourself with others through small, doable, reflective practices including creative ones.
If you’d like to explore what creativity might mean for your own version of wellbeing, you’re invited to join us.
Or subscribe here to follow this month’s theme.
Prefer Personal Support? Try a Wellbeing Prescription
If you’d rather explore this one-to-one, I offer Wellbeing Prescriptions: one-off, personalised sessions where we gently map out a plan that supports your energy, creativity, and wellbeing — based on where you are now.
Book your session here.
Make Something That Doesn’t Have to Mean Anything
You don’t need to wait until you feel inspired. Or healed. Or ready. Sometimes, the making is the way.
And in a season of life that feels uncertain, flat, or like you're standing in the hallway between who you were and who you're becoming — creating something just for you might be the most radical act of self-care there is.
How to Reignite Creative Joy When You're Burnt Out
Feeling burnt out or disconnected from your creativity? Discover how reconnecting with joy and creating for love—not likes—can restore your sense of purpose, peace, and play. Featuring insights from our podcast conversation with Emily Charlotte Powell on new wellbeing podcast A Thought I Kept.
If you’re feeling creatively numb, worn down by algorithms, or like you’ve lost your way with the work you used to love — you're not alone. So many of us are asking how to keep going when creativity feels like just another demand, another item on the to-do list, another thing to optimise.
Recently, I had a conversation with artist and illustrator Emily Charlotte Powell on the A Thought I Kept podcast that helped me remember something essential — something I didn’t even realise I’d let slip:
“I will create what I love. I will love what I create. And that will be enough.”
What would shift if that were your starting point too?
Why Burnout Can Sneak Up on Creative People
Creative burnout doesn’t always look like collapse. Sometimes it shows up quietly — a reluctance to return to the page, a growing resentment of the posting schedule, a dullness where there used to be a spark.
We start out making something because we feel something. But over time, it’s easy to swap that inner compass for external cues:
What performs well
What grows fastest
What’s currently trending
In the episode, Emily and I unpack how this shift slowly disconnects us from our original why. We move from making things we love, to making things we think we should.
And that’s when joy leaves the room.
Joy Isn’t Frivolous — It’s Can Be Fuel
This conversation reminded me that joy isn’t a luxury or a frivolous extra — it’s part of the glue that holds our creative selves together.
It’s what makes us want to sit down again tomorrow.
It’s what helps us navigate the rejection, the unread work, the projects that didn’t quite land.
It’s what keeps us tethered to the core of why we started.
Emily speaks about making things she genuinely enjoys and how reconnecting with this playful spirit helped her fall back in love with her practice.
She didn’t wait for permission. She didn’t check what the market wanted first. She just let herself love what she was making.
Creating for Your Wellbeing — Not Just Your Feed
There’s so much content telling us how to create for growth. But what if your creativity was a tool for wellbeing?
What if:
Writing a paragraph you love is its own reward
Drawing something softens your day
Re-reading an old blog post and smiling at your own words is reason enough
Creating what you love and loving what you create can be an act of care — not just for the audience, but for you
It’s okay to pause. It’s okay to make what delights you, even if no one ever sees it. And it’s more than okay to step away from “relevance” to reconnect with resonance — that feeling that this matters to me and that’s enough.
What If Joy Was the Point?
After this episode, I’ve been asking myself:
What would I make if no one else ever saw it?
What would I love to return to?
What kind of work makes me want to begin again?
If you’re burnt out, blocked, or just quietly bored, maybe don’t start with a productivity tip. Start with a feeling. Start with joy. That could be your way back in.
Want More?
This journal post was inspired by my conversation with the wonderful Emily Charlotte Powell on the latest episode of A Thought I Kept.
Listen in for more on:
How to navigate creative pressure without losing your spark
Why feeling something while you create matters
How to protect joy as part of your process
The emotional reality of being a creative person in a content-driven world
Listen now on Substack with bonus video content or find us wherever you get your podcasts.
Let this episode be the quiet nudge that helps you find your way back to what you love.
Sign up for my Substack More Good Days, where I share gentle thoughts on creativity, emotions, and everyday wellbeing — always with the aim of helping you feel better, not more pressure.
Or check out our wellbeing courses designed to help you reconnect with what matters to you.
How to Move Through Creative Self-Doubt and Reconnect With Your Purpose
Feeling stuck or creatively disconnected? Here's how to rebuild your confidence, find meaning in the uncertainty, and return to the creative work that matters.
Have you ever felt like you’ve lost your spark?
Like the ideas that once lit you up have dimmed, or that the thing that used to matter doesn’t quite land the same way anymore?
Maybe you’ve asked yourself: What am I doing this for?
If you're here, chances are you’re navigating your own season of doubt. And if that’s true, then let me offer you this:
You’re not doing it wrong. This is part of it.
The creative process isn’t linear. It’s a stretch and a return. A leap, and then a grounding. A brave “yes” to something new, followed (often quietly) by the decision to come back home to what really matters.
What’s for you won’t go by you.
That phrase—shared by brand designer and creative mentor Sarah Robertson on a recent episode of A Thought I Kept—has been looping in my head since we spoke. It was something her Scottish grandmother used to say, sometimes just in passing. But it landed.
It became an anchor for Sarah in all kinds of moments:
When her business changed direction
When launching a new product stirred up old fears
And when self-doubt made her question whether she was going in the right direction
In each of those moments, that phrase whispered back to her: If it’s for you, it won’t pass you by.
What happens when creativity starts to feel fragile?
Sarah spoke about the delicate emotions that come up when we make something new—especially something that asks a lot of us. When she launched her Brand Seasons card deck (a beautiful, soul-filled strategy tool), it wasn’t just a product launch. It was a creative stretch.
She worried about whether she still had it. She worried whether it was worth it. And in all of that, she still trusted enough to try.
Because sometimes, the bravery is just in showing up for what might be possible.
If you're in a stretch season...
...it might look like saying yes to something that scares you. A project you’re not sure will land. A conversation you don’t feel ready for.
But then there’s the other half of the rhythm—the return.
Sarah shared how, after all the brave leaping, she’s now back in her creative comfort zone: working one-on-one with clients, doing deep brand work, mentoring creatives who are trying something new.
And she’s realised:
It’s okay to let go of the things that aren’t for you too.
Even the things you poured your heart into.
This is permission to release the pressure to make every project the thing.
It can just be a thing. A moment. A stretch.
Then you come back to what fills you up.
If you're in a return season...
...let it be enough.
You don’t have to reinvent everything. You don’t have to push.
Returning to what feels good—what feels like you—can be the most creative act of all.
As Sarah put it:
““There’s definitely been something about learning that the creativity is always there. I can access it, I can tap into it.””
So how do you find your way back to creativity?
Here’s what this conversation reminded me of (and maybe it will help you too):
Self-doubt doesn’t mean you’re not creative. It means you care.
You don’t have to push all the time. Sometimes the letting go is the power move.
A creative pause doesn’t erase your purpose. Your creativity is still there.
The process matters as much as the outcome. Trust what you're learning in the doing.
Not everything is yours to carry. What’s truly for you will stay. What isn’t, can go.
Want to feel more connected to your creativity again?
Take a breath. Come back to yourself.
And ask: What feels like mine to hold right now?
Not what’s trending. Not what’s shiny. Just… what’s true?
If it’s for you, it won’t go by you.
Let that be the anchor.
Want more like this?
Listen to Sarah’s full episode on A Thought I Kept on Substack, Spotify or wherever you get your podcasts