Messy paint with off-kilter "Make Bad Art: Ditch perfectionism and have fun doing it" text

What if you could give up trying to be the "good girl" and step into your true, wild, creative self? Without:

 

‣ fancy supplies you can't afford (and aren't sure how to use anyway)

‣ feeling like a failure before you even get started

‣ pretending everything is okay even when you're not

‣ the sense of isolation that makes you feel like you're a weirdo for going against the crowd

‣ keeping a gratitude journal

‣ taking hours to meditate, or 

‣ repeating boring affirmations all day? 

 

And what if you could get there in just five to ten minutes a day?

 

 

You're in the right place. That’s exactly what we do in Make Bad Art.

 

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

What happens in Make Bad Art?

Six weekly two-hour sessions take you through the 9 Ps of my Anti-Perfectionism Formula, which includes elements like Play, Permission, Procrastination, and trusting the Process.

 

Each piece of this formula includes practical tools, exercises, and awareness that will serve you for a lifetime. They don't just help you create; these tools will work in every aspect of your life and serve you well for a lifetime.

 

There's also time on each call to intentionally make bad art. Why? Lowering the pressure is a skill we're not taught, and it's one that can change your life, especially if you're on the verge of burnout. It will teach you to be gentle with yourself, appreciate what you can do...and get you out of your head, which is great when your inner critic likes to hang out in there and verbally assault you all day.

 

Also? 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. 

 

Making bad art in community is powerful. Instead of sitting alone, judging your work as crappy, useless, or a waste of time, you get to share it with others who've done the same, have a good laugh, and maybe even end up appreciating it in ways you didn't expect. You'll make connections—maybe even friends for life—and, most importantly, know you are in good company.

 

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

 

 

Creativity isn't just about painting or drawing. It's about how you approach problems, manage your day, connect with your family, or even cook a meal. If you can solve a problem, plan an event, or arrange flowers, you're already creative.

 

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

 

You do not have to make bad art perfectly. 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:

Stick figures, one with an exploding head

(I still remember which kid decided they should have exploding heads. Ya gotta love middle schoolers.)

If you can draw stick figures, write bad poetry, experiment in the kitchen, invent a new game for your kids, or organize your sock drawer in a fun new way, you'll do just fine in Make Bad Art. Better than fine, even. 

 

There is literally no way to fail at making bad art (except not to do it at all). You can even do it with your kids or grandkids. 

 

I know that your life is busy and demanding. Make Bad Art, with its focus on small steps and intentional imperfection, is designed to fit into even the most packed schedules, helping you weave creativity and joy back into your daily routine while lowering the pressure.

 

(Did you watch my video at the top of the page? If not, you should. It’s short. I promise it’s worth it.)

Beth's story

 

When you were small, you made bad art all the time

You could make up a story that could go on for five straight minutes with no concern about logic, the laws of nature, or anything but pure imagination. Airplanes flying underground, fairy princesses in castles built on clouds, birds that could swim... 

 

You may have invented wild feats of architecture with Lego bricks, or drawn impossible creatures every day without a second thought. 

 

You probably fought dragons and supervillains under pillow forts wearing capes made of bath towels. 

 

Whatever popped into your head was fine, with no inner critic telling you it was wrong. 

 

Your imagination was a force of nature, you were a bundle of energy...and nothing stopped you except bedtime and your parents' patience.

 

You were probably around 4 years old. And you were amazing. 

Robin Williams playing air guitar in Mrs. Doubtfire

That energy isn't limited to little kids, though. Do you remember watching Robin Williams let loose at the movies, or in his stand-up routines?

 

There was nothing he wouldn’t do for a laugh. Nothing. 

 

Robin Williams was one of the most uninhibited people who ever walked the face of the earth. 

 

 

 

When I look at scenes like this one from Mrs. Doubtfire, I laugh, just like everyone else. 

 

But I'm also in awe. I'll bet, on some level, you are, too. Here's why:

 

That uninhibited part of you recognizes itself in his performance. It's begging you to remember it, and to let it out to play.

But you grew up

I’ve heard all those voices—the "shoulds," the criticism, and the self-judgment—in my head, too. And I’ll let you in on a secret: 

 

Those voices are not you. 

 

They were installed in your head by some folks who were almost certainly well-meaning—your parents, grandparents, teachers, bosses… but they’re not you. 

 

They’re also not right. 

 

I mean, sure, there are some rules that are really important. I’m pretty fond of traffic rules, myself. 

 

But a lot of the time, we follow rules that are outdated, arbitrary, or just plain don’t make any sense. And those rules isolate us from each other while they disconnect us from ourselves.

 

Is it any wonder so many people feel burned out?

Woman looking in broken mirror with someone else's reflection

It can be exhausting trying to keep track of all the things you're supposed to be as an adult. Seems to me it’s so much easier just to be yourself. 

 

I find the more I stay true to who I am, the better things work out (which is why I'm actually breaking the rules as I write this page 😉). 

 

If that idea has you breathing a sigh of relief, you’re in the right place. 

 

If that sigh of relief is immediately followed by, “But, wait! I can’t do that! I’d get in trouble/disappoint someone/never be good enough/have no idea how to do that,” believe me, I get it.

It’s fine to aim for excellence, but when you get too attached to the outcome, you can spend hours fixated on an ideal that doesn’t exist, or that doesn’t really 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. 

 

In the meantime, you look at kids (or at Robin Williams) and you’re mystified. You'd love to get that energy back. But how? How do they do that? 

 

 

They do it because they’re okay with doing things badly. They’re not worried about what other folks say.

 

 

The 4-year-old's inner critic hasn’t been installed yet. Robin Williams learned not to listen to his. 

 

Imagine being able to drop those voices telling you you're not good enough, that your work isn't perfect enough, and that you shouldn't even try something new because you won't be able to do it well enough. 

 

Imagine creating just for the fun of it, without worrying about the outcome, and enjoying the process no matter what the product is like. 

 

 

It may seem impossible, but you can de-fang your inner critic. It just takes time and practice. You might not get all the way to Robin Williams’s level, but you can get a whole lot closer than you are right now.

 

And you can do it in 5 to 10 minutes a day.

 

Victoria's Story

Woman smiling while sitting on a skateboard

Let me tell you about a participant I'll call Victoria. Victoria came to Make Bad Art because she wanted to get rid of her perfectionism. She also didn’t believe she was creative even though she loved doing improv. 

 

She found herself so focused on the rules—on being the good girl—that she was worried about everything she did or said. If you’ve ever done improv, you know that’s the fastest, easiest way to take all the joy out of it—and to question your own creative capabilities. 

 

By our last session, Victoria had completely re-evaluated her relationship with rules. She was able to look at them objectively, decide whether they were really necessary, and proceed accordingly.

As a result, Victoria has been having more fun than she’s had in years. She’s laughing more, being drawn into younger social circles (because her energy has come alive), and creating bad art on a regular basis, just for the sheer joy of it. 

 

While her story is inspiring, it’s not remarkable. Make Bad Art participants report that they feel lighter and more open in every aspect of their lives. 

"I see now that my art is definitely worth the time, and that’s powerful. 

 

"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."

 

— Emily, founding participant in Make Bad Art 

Who Am I? And why did I create Make Bad Art?

Hi, I'm Nancy Norbeck, a master 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 creativity coach 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. 

 

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! A keyboard or pen and paper was all I needed.

Nancy Norbeck

She tried 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've also worked as a writing teacher at the secondary and post-secondary levels, and as a copy editor and proofreader. 

 

I know what it's like to have a job that requires an exacting level of perfection, even when I personally don't care whether every quotation mark is curly or not, and to catch hell if I missed one of them—and to have to pretend to be someone I'm not every day because the management is drenched in toxic positivity and only wants smiley, happy people in their office. 

 

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 pretense 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. 

 

Here, you get the dedicated support and solidarity needed to rewire those harsh inner voices in a way that is fun, not serious or difficult.

 

It’s so much easier to make these changes when you know you’re not alone in this process, whether you're facing the demands of a difficult workplace, the pressures of social media, the daily grind of a busy family life, or the inner critic that says you're a salmon swimming upstream in a perfectionistic culture.

 

Paul McGann with Nancy Norbeck in front of a TARDIS

With Doctor Who's Eighth Doctor, Paul McGann

"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

What will you get from Make Bad Art?

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):

‣ Judgment of yourself (and others) 

‣ Criticism of yourself (and others) 

‣ That perpetually tight feeling in your gut (which can be related to things like high blood pressure, though I’m NOT claiming to cure any medical ailments here!) 

‣ An overabundance of seriousness and harshness in your life 

‣ An overworked negativity bias 

‣ Too much time doomscrolling and binge watching 

‣ Difficulty generating new ideas, and the ones you do have are never good enough 

‣ Obsession with/attachment to the outcome of a project/situation 

‣ Fear of the results of imperfection 

‣ Fear that you are not good enough, and will never be good enough 

‣ Fear of what other people think

‣ That feeling of isolation that makes everything harder

Arm in striped sleeve tangled up in a knot

And here are some things you gain to replace them:

Little girl in sunglasses under falling cherry blossoms

‣ Self-kindness (and kindness toward others) 

‣ Self-compassion (and kindness toward others) 

‣ Feeling more comfortable and lighter in your own skin 

‣ Playfulness, energy, and a more ready sense of humor 

‣ A more general sense of positivity and confidence 

‣ More time engaging in your creativity and play 

‣ More new ideas, and they’re more interesting to you 

‣ Fascination with and trust in the process and openness to possibility rather than a fixed outcome 

‣ Appreciation for the uniqueness of imperfection over cookie-cutter perfection 

‣ Security in yourself, your worth, and the knowledge that you are—and always have been—good enough 

‣ Your own self-validation outweighing anyone else’s disapproval

‣ A supportive community full of people who've also been there

The biggest thing you’ll reclaim in Make Bad Art is yourself. 

With Make Bad Art, you'll receive: 

 

‣Six two-hour live group coaching sessions over Zoom, starting October 14 at 7pm ET. 

‣Practical tools and exercises based on the 9 Ps of Anti-Perfectionism so you can understand and outwit your inner critic. 

‣A supportive community so you can feel solidarity and accelerate these changes in your life. 

‣15-minute Courage Calls with me, if you run into trouble, so you're not stuck between calls. 

‣Recordings of all sessions so you never miss a thing.

‣Call transcripts so you can easily find the moments you want to go back to.

‣Optional Weekly Creative Connection co-working calls so you can be sure you have creative space for yourself. 

 

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?

“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.

 

"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

What’s the investment?

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 creativity coach, I’m also armed with the tools and personal experience to break that cycle and lead you back to fun, play, wonder, and self-acceptance. 

Make Bad Art is $597, with a two-payment plan available as well.

 

I want Make Bad Art to be as accessible as possible, so if you need a different payment plan, or just have questions about the course, please contact me. 

 

I'll get right back to you.

 

If you're not sure if you're a good fit for Make Bad Art, I'm happy to give you an honest answer.

Three friends sitting near flower fields

FAQ

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

Copyright 2025 - Nancy Norbeck