Avoiding Scope Creep as an Artist

 “Scope creep” is a term that usually pops up in project management or product design, but I’ve found it applies just as much to being an artist. Especially when you’re trying to do everything at once—or worse, when you’re not even sure what to focus on.

It’s easy to fall into that trap: you want to create, but you don’t know what to create. You get ideas constantly, but they feel too big, too vague, or too scattered to act on. Before you know it, you’ve overwhelmed yourself with so many half-projects and goals that nothing gets finished.

Finding Focus by Failing On Purpose

People often say, “Find your niche,” or “Stick to one thing.” But that advice doesn’t always land when you’re still exploring. If you’re like me, and you haven’t quite found that one thing to latch onto, here’s a piece of advice that helped me: try different things and don’t be afraid to fail—on purpose.

That might sound counterproductive, but it’s not. Failing with intention helps you rule out what doesn’t work and nudges you closer to what does. It’s not about doing it all at once. It’s about experimenting, reflecting, and seeing what sticks.

When Projects Start to Connect

Over time, I’ve collected all kinds of hobbies and creative experiments. Some faded away. Some crashed and burned. Others stuck around and slowly started tying into each other.

That’s the part no one tells you: when you give yourself time and space, your interests will start to form natural links. That’s when focus begins to emerge—not forced, but found.

Scope creep doesn’t just affect big teams or companies. It can sneak into your solo creative life, too. The best way I’ve learned to avoid it is by grounding my ideas in who I am and what comes naturally to me.

What Comes Naturally?

Sometimes, all it takes is one quiet day to look back and ask:
What always came easily to me? What did I love as a kid?

Personally, I spend a lot of time reflecting on my past and childhood. I have a strange way of remembering things vividly—almost like watching old tapes play in my head. It’s easier to remember the bad stuff, sure, but I can still access those hyper-focused moments and interests that made up who I was.

I remember loving animals (dinosaurs especially—still cool, by the way). I was obsessed with shows like Power Rangers and Ninja Turtles. I loved playing outside, drawing, and eventually discovering the magic of reading. (Reading something and seeing it unfold like a movie in your head? Pretty incredible. Though, I’ll admit, not as easy these days for various life reasons.)

Those old interests get me thinking: Why did I love those things so much? What was it about those shows or characters that gave me that addictive creative high?

I still don’t have a solid answer. But I’ve come to realize that even when the answers are fuzzy, the exploration itself teaches me something.

Building a Path by Failing Forward

I’ve failed at a lot of things. But through all of it—through every short-lived project, every abandoned sketch, every weird idea that didn’t pan out—I’ve slowly been molding my own path.

That’s what being an artist is really all about. It’s not about having one clear goal from the beginning. It’s about staying curious, staying honest with yourself, and using both your past and your failures as building blocks.

Think about the journey, Overcome your obstacles, and you will find your destination.

Wherever you are on your creative journey, don’t be afraid to explore. Just make sure you’re walking with intention—even if you trip now and then.