If you're nodding along, you're not alone. There's nothing wrong with aiming for excellence, but when we can't let go of the attachment to perfection, we've taken it too far. We spend hours—or more—unnecessarily working toward an ideal that doesn't exist, or doesn't matter.

That's perfectionism, and it's why you feel untalented, not good enough, and exhausted, and wonder where the heck all your time went.

Perfectionism can be a joy-stealing monster, turning the creative process into a source of stress and self-doubt. But what if you could rewrite the story?

Imagine a space where you can:

"I absolutely recommend Nancy to others. Working with her has taken me to places and to depths that I did not expect.

"I would recommend her to anybody who wants a different relationship with their creativity, but I would also recommend Nancy to anybody who wants a shift in their relationship with themselves."

—Beth, painter and mixed media artist

Hi, I'm Nancy Norbeck, a Master Certified Kaizen-Muse Creativity Coach, host of the Follow Your Curiosity podcast, and a fellow traveler on the road to recovery from perfectionism.

I didn't always know I was a perfectionist. When I was in Kaizen-Muse training, my training mentor asked me in one of our sessions if I was a perfectionist, and I confidently told her no. I was sure, because I, like many creative people, was not the kind of person who has to have everything in its place all the time. (I taught with a guy who was like that once, and I was always afraid I’d leave his stapler misaligned on his desk.) 

She asked again if I was sure—if I ever got stuck because I didn’t think I had the right materials or tools. Nope, not me! A keyboard or pen and paper was all I needed. 

She asked one more time: “Do you ever just not start projects because you’re sure you’ll never be able to do them well enough?”

I stopped breathing. That was me. 

While I was actively creative, there were plenty of things I’d wanted to do that I’d cut myself off from, often not even fully consciously, because I knew I’d never be good enough at them to be worth the effort. So I never even tried. I never gave myself the chance to find out if I could have been good at them at all. I just decided I was already a failure instead. That’s a terrible thing to do to yourself.

I had also just started a new job as a copy editor and proofreader. I love working with words—I’d been teaching English as a Second Language before the recession and had just finished a Master of Fine Arts degree in creative writing—and thought this would be a great job for me. I was an excellent editor, and my skills became even sharper during my MFA program, which had elevated my standards for good writing beyond anything I had imagined. 

It didn’t take long before I realized something was very wrong with this “great” job. I tried to do my job to the best of my abilities, but the expectations from my bosses were inconsistent—sometimes, I was supposed to correct only certain things by certain people to certain degrees, which were never communicated to me in advance. At other times, I was supposed to correct everything.  I was left to try to figure out which was which and often got in trouble for making the wrong call. It was incredibly confusing and frustrating, because I couldn’t predict which directions I should follow at any given time, and if I asked, I was treated like it should have been obvious.

It was deeply unsettling and frustrating, and left me doubting myself and my abilities—even though I knew, deep down, that I was very good at what I did—in situation made impossible because I was clearly meant to read other people's minds. It also made me more determined to try harder.

The only thing that was predictable was that everything I did, including attempts at mind-reading, was always expected to be perfect in spite of all the mixed messages (and sometimes was even told to “be paranoid.”). I would be raked over the coals for the tiniest mistake. It was hard not to let my inner critic have a field day when it happened, because I held myself to such a high standard, and I also didn't want to keep being berated. Part of me would often shout back at my inner critic, “I’m still human! None of us is perfect! And I’m trying to be less of a perfectionist, not more!” But the critic didn’t care, and it was louder. And the harder I tried to be as perfect as I—and they—wanted me to be, the worse it all got, because perfectionism is always the enemy of the good.

I missed teaching, especially the playful, creative atmosphere that comes from working with kids, terribly, because that sort of environment helps make difficult situations bearable. The only place I still played freely was when I visited my very small nephews a few times a year. It wasn’t enough to hold off the combined effects of perfectionism and this toxic situation.

I was fighting to hold on to myself in an environment that seemed to want to disconnect me from my true self in favor of the person they wanted me to turn into: their idea of the perfect employee. I couldn’t possibly be both, but I sure did try to play the part, even though I resented it the whole time. It ate at me for years, making it hard to sleep, to shut off the anger inside, to stop judging myself even more harshly than they did because somehow that seemed like it could protect me from the lies they kept telling me about myself. (Spoiler: it didn’t work. It never does.) 

Over time, doing anything creative became an afterthought, at best, because it’s hard to find the energy or inspiration to create when you’re being eaten alive from the inside.

When I got the idea for my podcast, Follow Your Curiosity, I thought it would be interesting to hear people’s creative stories and get them in front of a wider audience. I wasn’t sure anyone would listen to it, but I was curious enough to give it a whirl for my own interest.

I didn’t expect my podcast to be the creative outlet that saved me. I didn’t know it would remind me of who I was and who I could be. But it became a source of pride, joy, and meaning that nobody could take from me—an absolute lifeline when I needed it the most.

That’s why I created Make Bad Art: to help others trapped in the cycle of perfectionism and disconnection to rediscover and reclaim their own creativity—that part of themselves that no one can take away—so they can come back to life again. 

I especially wanted to create a place where folks could do this work in community, because trying to counter perfectionism can be really tough in a world that keeps telling you all your troubles will be over if you're just perfect enough—if you finally attain that pinnacle of achievement you see on TV and Instagram. It’s so much easier to make these changes when you know you’re not alone.

Make Bad Art is a six-week group coaching program for recovering perfectionists (and soon-to-be recovering perfectionists!) who are ready to reconnect with their authentic selves and start being more creative—and having more fun. 

In six weekly two-hour sessions, we’ll examine the 9 Ps of my Anti-Perfectionism Formula:

We’ll also have time on each call to intentionally make bad art. Why? You have to make bad art before you can make good art. All the gold is in the things you’re afraid to make—the things you think won’t be good enough, that you’re not allowed to make, shouldn’t make, or are half-baked. 

The more bad art you make, the more good art will sneak out in the process, along with your childlike sense of fun and wonder.

On the calls and online, we will also take time to observe the anti-perfectionism process, being gentle with ourselves as we gain awareness of how this process works in general and for ourselves.

One of the core principles of Make Bad Art is this:

You do not have to make bad art perfectly. You do not even have to use the tools perfectly (if you did, you’d be exhibiting perfectionism)! You are a flawed human being making flawed art because that’s what it is to be human, and THAT IS OKAY. 

Heck, you don't even have to be an artist. Here's the kind of art I used to draw for my students when I was teaching:

"Being a creative person, sometimes you do feel like you live in your own world and that nobody else understands the creative process.  I really enjoyed meeting other creative people in Make Bad Art and hearing them talk about their creative lives.

"The course also gave me different ideas on how to make time to be creative, and how to respect my creativity—all those things that are usually not encouraged.

"I see now that my art is definitely worth the time, and that’s powerful. The other day, I had this big project, so I got started by making several small steps. Thanks to Make Bad Art, I feel like I have a better idea of how I want this project to go by doing the small steps and using the other tools from the course.

"Nancy taught me to incorporate those tools, and encouraged me to go ahead and be creative. Because when I'm creative, I'm in a happy space and that helps me deal with everything else.

"I would tell others who are considering Make Bad Art to be open to the possibilities. Don't limit yourself; just show up and be willing to participate. There aren’t any big, hard things to do in this class—they’re smaller activities, and there's a lot of encouragement from other people in the group."

— Emily, Founding participant in Make Bad Art and member of the Follow Your Curiosity community

In Make Bad Art, you’ll regain your freedom. You’ll also find that the more you surrender control and align deliberately with imperfection, the easier it is to find creative flow and a greater sense of play.

Let’s look first at a few things you will lose when you loosen the grip perfectionism has on you (effects vary per person, as we each engage with the process in our own way):

And here are some things you gain to replace them:

But I am pretty sure you’ll find that the biggest thing you’ll reclaim in Make Bad Art is yourself. The imperfect, carefree, clever, curious, adventurous, daring, open, courageous, playful, wonderful, wild, soul you’ve always been, but forgot you were. 

“Make Bad Art was such an amazing experience that changed how I approach play as a grown up. I am a lot more willing to make mistakes and let that be a part of the process. Before, I would let it stop me from moving forward in the process.”

"As a practitioner of Breathwork and Compassion Key, I've been in the industry of life coaching, online coaching, self improvement and human transformation for three decades. Nancy has an amazing ability to create spaces of exploration in the area of play that are fresh, fun, and unique to what adults grapple with when it comes to discovering play time—and all of the guilt, shame, and dismissal we can sometimes, unknowingly, carry when it comes to that subject.

"I mean, as one who didn't play much as a youngster, the science behind perfectionism was a game changer! I had no idea of all of the scientific research and discovery in this area of self transformation and personal growth for adults and how perfectionism can have negative impacts on achieving success in life.

"Thank you, Nancy, for doing your sacred work and being a relentless stand for what's possible in the realm of play and fun at any age!

"I just used the tiny steps process with my 19-year-old nephew this morning because I took your Make Bad Art course. I was able to recognize a familiar procrastination behavior pattern that showed up in his action, or non-action, and share with him an easier way to play with something he's been putting off, to help him get started without making him bad, wrong, or broken.
 
"I love that I have an arsenal of ways to play that are inspiring, motivating and easy to do! 

"Permission to play and making bad art, ACTIVATED!”   

—Angela R. Smith, Founder of Root Cause Breathwork, Certified Compassion Key Practitioner and Breathwork Practitioner

The next cohort of Make Bad Art kicks off on Thursday, March 20, 2025.

You are invited to stop contorting yourself and reclaim your wildly imperfect inner kid. 

$597 unlocks the door to freedom, inspiration, compassion, kindness, and play. 

Think about it:

What's the cost of staying stuck in the cycle of perfectionism, missing out on the joy and fulfillment of creative expression and play?

What's the value of reclaiming your time, energy, and confidence to pursue your passions without fear of judgment?

What's it worth to finally silence that inner critic and embrace your authentic creative self—and improve your relationships with yourself and others at the same time?

As a fellow recovering perfectionist, I know firsthand the traps perfectionism can lead us into and the pain it can cause. As a Master Certified Kaizen-Muse Creativity Coach, I’m also armed with the tools and personal experience to break that cycle and lead back to fun, play, wonder, and self-acceptance. 

The first ten people to sign up will also receive a copy of my Creative Tune-Up Kit and a 30-minute 1:1 coaching session with me.

• Six two-hour live sessions starting Thursday, March 13, 2025. 

Sessions will be held over Zoom from 7-9 pm Eastern Time*:

March 20

March 27

April 3

April 10

April 17

April 24

*7-9 pm Eastern Time: 4-6 pm Pacific, 9-11 am Brisbane

 You will get:

• Call recordings so you never miss a thing
• Call transcripts
• Online community, which includes access to me between calls
• Weekly Creative Connection Circle co-working calls so you can have focused time to Make Bad Art

The first ten people to sign up will also receive a copy of my Creative Tune-Up Kit and a 30-minute 1:1 coaching session with me.

If you genuinely believe you’re not creative, then I’m very sorry to tell you that someone lied to you. Every single human being is creative in some way. It may or may not be a way that is generally recognized as creative (creativity is not limited to the arts!). 

Your creativity may be in cooking, decorating, problem solving, software development, woodworking, or any number of other areas. You may love to sing in the shower but not be willing to sing for anyone else. Maybe you like to build elaborate Lego landscapes. It may be some other quirky thing that you think other people will think is weird.

Or maybe there’s something you’ve always wanted to try, but haven’t been brave enough to do yet. Make Bad Art is the perfect, safe place to explore that dream in a gentle, easy way.

You only need to believe in your own creative self and your dream to begin.

You’ll need two hours for our class time, and 5-10 minutes a day on your own, plus whatever time you want to spend checking into the online community. If you can or want to carve out more time, that’s great, and if you miss some days, that’s fine, too (we’re not aiming for perfection here, remember?). 

You can expect to meet new friends—and accomplices—in the fight against cultural perfectionism, and allies as you reclaim your true self.

You can expect increased awareness of your tendencies around perfectionism, plus tools and tips to interact with them differently.

You can expect to start taking yourself and these quirks more lightly as you begin to see them not as part of you but as something you put on, like a costume, in response to the expectation of others.

You can expect to start treating yourself with more compassion and less judgment as you let go of all those external expectations.

And you can expect to create more freely, and have more fun in the process, than you have since you were a kid—and reclaim the same kind of playful openness and creative excitement you had back then, too.

There’s literally no way to fail at making bad art except not to do it. Even if all you have to work with is a paper clip and an old envelope, if you’re willing to experiment with them in the spirit of making something bad, by definition, you will succeed. The bar here is extremely low, and it’s low for a reason—because it works. This is where trusting the process comes in, and in trusting the process, you’ll also learn to trust yourself. Cool, huh?

Yes! There is an option to pay in two monthly payments built into the signup below. That said, I want everyone who wants to Make Bad Art to be able to, so if you need something different, I’m happy to set up a plan that works for you. Get in touch and we’ll make it happen! (You're not bothering me or wasting my time—I promise! I want to hear from you so I can make this work for you!)

Not a problem! Let's connect and I’ll do my best to answer them.

With Make Bad Art, you'll receive:

In just six weeks, you'll loosen the grip of perfectionism and transform your relationship with creativity—and yourself—so you can relax, create more freely, judge yourself (and others!) less, and enjoy your life more.

Ready to ditch perfectionism and say hello to freedom, inspiration, kindness, and play?

Click the button below to enroll in Make Bad Art.

You'll receive a confirmation email, and I'll be in touch soon with everything you need to prepare for our first session.

Sign up today and give yourself permission to relax, play, and have fun again.

Yours in imperfection and creative courage,

Nancy Norbeck

Master Certified Kaizen-Muse Creativity Coach

Host, Follow Your Curiosity Podcast

nancy@fycuriosity.com

P.S. A year from now, you’re going to be one year older… Where will you be? 

For me, the most satisfying part about running Make Bad Art isn’t going on podcasts or writing articles about the course.

It’s meeting people who believe they’re not creative, or that they’re stuck in patterns they can’t seem to get out of, and knowing that they are creative and that they’re more than those beliefs that are keeping them caged up—and that they can change all that.

It’s not fighting a battle against the rules and expectations that say we all have to be certain ways at certain times to impress certain people, because someone once said so.

It’s knowing that this course makes a huge difference in the lives of the people who take it, who learn to see themselves in a way that’s so much lighter, more easygoing, and more fun than they ever thought was possible. 

In many ways, Make Bad Art is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And it could be the same for you, if you trust your intuition, and take the leap. 

And it all starts now, with a small decision to click a button and join Make Bad Art. Six weeks from now, you will notice significant changes in yourself, your creativity, and the way you relate to the world. And one year from now, there’s no telling where those changes might take you.

If it sounds like your cup of tea, I hope to see you on the other side! 

YES, sign me up for Make Bad Art!

Nancy Norbeck © All rights reserved