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Raemi Anderson on Courage, Caution, and Answering the Call of the Landscape

In her forthcoming ebook Where She Stands AloneRaemi Anderson offers a grounded, deeply compassionate guide for women creatives who feel drawn to solitude in nature yet held back by fear, responsibility, or guilt. Rooted in years of lived experience balancing art, work, and family, the book reframes courage not as recklessness but as thoughtful preparation. Released through Smokin Mud Productions and Etsy, Anderson’s work reminds readers that creativity doesn’t require perfect balance or grand gestures—sometimes honoring your calling simply means not quitting, taking small steps forward, and trusting that solitude and safety can coexist.

Raemi, for those just discovering your work, what inspired you to write this new ebook for women creatives who feel called to nature but are held back by fear?
What inspired me to write this ebook wasn’t a single moment, but rather years of my own experience being called to the landscape, from the Colorado Rockies to the eastern plains.  I was also quite aware that the solitude allowed something inside of me to settle and feel more alive.

With that said, I was and have always been aware that I carry an awareness like many women around my surroundings, responsibilities not just to myself but to the people who love me. I am also very aware that my many roles influence how and when I pursue my soul’s desire: my passion for nature and creating in it.

For years, I have been aware of my feelings—ranging from longing to caution—before and during my pursuits, and I knew that it wasn’t unique. Other women were feeling it too. I would hear it in conversations: the hesitation, the waiting for schedules to align, the guilt about going alone, the question of whether it was wise.

I didn’t want women to feel they had to choose between fear, recklessness, or guilt about abandoning others’ expectations or the roles they play in their lives.

This book stems from the desire to say: you can feel called to nature, and you can step forward thoughtfully. You can be both courageous and careful. Those two things are not opposites.

I wrote Where She Stands Alone because women deserve both solitude and safety — and the confidence that comes from being prepared.

Can you share a bit about the heart behind the ebook and how you hope it will support or empower women once it’s released through your Smokin Mud Productions shop and Etsy?
Honestly, I want to help other women go from hesitating about their solo adventure to being prepared.  I do not want to minimize their fear, guilt, etc., that many feel; instead, I want to show how to understand it and respond wisely.

Additionally, I don’t want women to feel pressured to be fearless. I want them to feel equipped if they choose to go out alone.

There is a quiet confidence that comes from knowing you have thought things through. From knowing you have packed intentionally. From knowing you have checked the weather, told someone where you are going, trusted your instincts, and built physical strength over time.

You’re balancing creative work alongside a full-time job and significant family responsibilities — what has helped you continue creating during such a demanding season of life?
What has helped me continue creating during demanding seasons of life is understanding that it is part of making my life more whole.

Even now, there are definitely times when the various roles in my life—wife, employee, friend, etc.—are intense and packed.

But I realized something important: when I set my creative work aside entirely, something inside me begins to shrink.

So instead of waiting for wide open stretches of time, I learned to work within the margins. Early mornings before my husband is up, a lunch hour, and one dedicated night each week.  I find a few focused hours.  One painting instead of five.A collection of small paintings instead of huge paintings. Sometimes, like when my loved ones were in the hospital, it meant sitting on the back porch with a camera, photographing the Hummingbirds in my yard or at the feeder. Years ago, it also meant capturing snowflakes on my ski hats during raging cold spells and photographing snowflakes during a lunch break from work.

I also became more intentional about preparation — not just in the landscape, but in my life. I protect small pockets of time. I communicate clearly with my family. I accept that balance is rarely perfect.

And perhaps most importantly, I let go of the idea that creativity must look grand. Sometimes continuing simply means not quitting and showing up to your calling, no matter how small it seems. Progress is still progress. One step, one click forward.

Creating during a demanding season has required discipline, yes — but more than that, it has required remembering why I do this work in the first place. It grounds me. It steadies me. It reminds me that even amid responsibility, I am still a woman with a calling. I promised that person years ago that she mattered.

With several other projects brewing, how do you decide where to focus your energy when time and capacity are limited?
When time and capacity are limited, I’ve learned I can’t build everything at once — even if everything feels meaningful.

So I ask myself two questions: What feels most aligned right now? And what season am I in?

Some ideas require expansion. Others require depth. I try to move with intention rather than urgency.

If a project has the potential to genuinely support others, it will probably rise to the top.

Finishing Where She Stands Alone felt clear and necessary. Other projects are still in the works —  I trust myself now to know they will come forward when the time is right.

What encouragement or perspective would you offer other women creatives who feel stretched thin but still want to honor their creative calling?
I would tell her this: your creative calling does not disappear just because your season is demanding.

There will be times when life stretches you thin — caregiving, work, responsibility, uncertainty. In those seasons, creativity may not look expansive. It may look small. Quiet. Brief.

But small does not mean insignificant.

You do not have to abandon your calling simply because you cannot give it hours and hours at a time. (I once told myself this and learned how I was setting myself up for failure).

Sometimes honoring it means protecting thirty minutes or 20 minutes.

Sometimes, it means telling family and friends, “One night a week, I will be in my studio for the entire night; you take your artist out on a date.”

Sometimes it means going anyway, even if no one else can go with you.

Sometimes it means simply not quitting.

I also think it helps to let go of the idea that balance must look perfect. There are seasons of intensity and seasons of expansion. Trusting that rhythm has helped me.

Most importantly, I would remind her that creativity is not indulgent — it is life-giving. When we continue to create, even in small ways, we remain connected to who we are.

And that connection strengthens everything else.

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