We all carry beliefs about what we’re capable of. When it comes to calligraphy, those stories might sound like: “I’m not talented enough,” “I don’t have the time,” or “That’s just not for someone like me.”
All of those doubts are rooted in myths—assumptions we’ve picked up without even realizing it. In today’s article, I’m sharing some of the most common beliefs that tend to hold people back. Letting go of them can help you create without pressure—and that’s when real progress begins.
I suspect you feel pressure to always be productive—because I feel it, too. Oftentimes, we negotiate with ourselves: we can do the things that bring us joy after all of the important tasks are finished. The problem with that is there’s always an important task to be done. After you answer emails, there’s probably laundry waiting. Then it’s time to figure out dinner, reply to a few texts, maybe scroll through messages you meant to respond to earlier … and suddenly, the day’s disappeared.
In Celeste Headlee’s book Do Nothing (highly recommend!), the author points out this mindset—where rest and creativity are treated as luxuries we have to earn—has it backwards. We’re not meant to operate like machines. In fact, doing things that feel “unproductive”, like practicing calligraphy just because it makes you happy, is exactly what helps restore your sense of balance. These so-called “non-essential” activities are often where you reconnect with yourself. So, if you’ve been telling yourself that you don’t have time for calligraphy … gently question that. It might not be a time issue at all—it might just be that you’ve internalized the idea that joy needs to be justified. It doesn’t. Regardless of your skill level, if calligraphy brings you calm, delight, or a sense of creative purpose, then it’s time well spent.
This myth assumes that the only purpose of writing is efficient communication. And sure, that’s what computers and phones are great at. But humans didn’t invent calligraphy for speed—we created it to express emotion, care, and beauty. Look around: hand lettering and calligraphy are everywhere, from wedding invitations to product packaging. Why? Because they make us feel something. Seeing your name written in calligraphy, or a favorite quote carefully lettered, isn’t just decorative—it creates a moment of connection and meaning.
If we only did things that were strictly practical, most of life’s joys would be off the table. Watching movies, listening to music, arranging flowers—none of it is necessary, but all of it adds to our experience. Calligraphy is the same. It reminds us that words are more than utilitarian. A calligraphed quote hanging on your wall might not “do” anything, but every time you see it, you feel a little more grounded or inspired. That, in itself, is worthwhile.
There’s a rich history behind traditional calligraphy styles, and many passionate calligraphers have dedicated their lives to preserving and perfecting them. That devotion is admirable, and there’s real value in learning those forms, especially if you enjoy structure or want to understand the roots of the art. But the idea that only certain styles are “correct” or “professional” can be discouraging—especially for those of us who came to calligraphy not through formal study, but through a love of letters and a desire to play.
I recently picked up Maybelle Imasa-Stukuls’ The Gift of Calligraphy, and her work is an excellent example of how expressive calligraphy can be when it doesn’t follow traditional rules. Her flourishes are loose, her letterforms are unique, and yet the emotional impact of her work is undeniable. It’s a good reminder that calligraphy isn’t just about precision—it’s also about voice. Your style doesn’t have to look like anyone else’s to be valid. If the marks you make bring you joy, that’s enough. There’s room for both tradition and experimentation in this art form—and when you give yourself permission to explore, you’re honing your own creative voice.
If your everyday handwriting feels messy or inconsistent, it’s easy to assume that calligraphy is out of reach. But here’s the truth: pointed pen calligraphy has very little to do with your natural handwriting. In fact, you can make beautiful calligraphy even if your regular writing looks like a rushed grocery list scribbled in the car. Calligraphy isn’t just “fancy handwriting”—it’s an art form that uses deliberate strokes, specific tools, and practiced technique. It’s more like drawing than writing, really.
Think of it like cooking. You might be perfectly capable of preparing a beautiful eight-course meal with the right ingredients and instructions—but that doesn’t mean your usual dinner isn’t takeout or something quick from the fridge. Your everyday handwriting is the quick dinner. Calligraphy is the special recipe you pull out when you want to slow down and make something beautiful. So, don’t let your regular handwriting hold you back. All it takes to learn calligraphy is a bit of patience, regular practice, and an interest in the art.
In-person classes are wonderful—I’ve taught dozens myself, and there’s something special about the energy in the room and the real-time feedback. But here’s the thing: most beginner workshops cover the absolute basics, the same way a good video tutorial might. Everyone has similar early hurdles (nib angle, ink flow, pressure), and those are things that can absolutely be addressed through a comprehensive online course—or even just a bit of Googling and trial-and-error.
Take it from someone who once took an idyllic pasta-making class in the hills of Tuscany. The experience? Unforgettable. However, the pasta I made afterward was not. Fun as it was, that one class didn’t turn me into a pasta-making professional. What actually builds skill is time, curiosity, and repetition. It’s the same with calligraphy. If you want to get better, you don’t need a classroom—you just need a nib, some good instruction, and the willingness to keep going. (And yes, I’m biased—but TPK’s Beginner’s Modern Calligraphy Online Course has helped thousands of learners learn at their own pace, and I’ve received so many kind notes from students who felt it truly “clicked” for them.)
Dip pens are beautiful tools, and their utility has been proven for centuries. I personally tend to gravitate toward pointed pen calligraphy because I love the balance of control and fluidity it offers. That said, calligraphy isn’t limited to one tool—or even one style. Brush pens, pencils, markers, and even ballpoint pens can all be part of the calligraphy family. It all counts!
Think of it like creative cross-training: trying out different tools and styles can actually help you grow as a calligrapher. You might spend a few weeks playing with brush pens, then circle back to a pointed pen with more confidence and new ideas. There’s no “right” way to make calligraphy. If a certain tool or style inspires you to sit down and letter, that’s reason enough to use it. The point of calligraphy is expressive writing, and expression doesn’t require any particular pen.
Messing up isn’t a sign that you’re bad at calligraphy—it’s a sign that you’re doing calligraphy. Mistakes are part of the process, and in many ways, they’re what make handmade work so special. We live in a world where nearly everything we read is computer-generated: flawless and endlessly replicable. But that’s not what catches our eyes. It’s the quirks, like slightly uneven letter spacing or a wobbly stroke, that remind us a real human made this.
Some of my favorite pieces have been the result of mistakes. An ink glob might turn into intentional spatters that add energy to the page. A tight spot in the layout might inspire a flourish you never would have planned—and it ends up making the piece. Analog work has this beautiful way of inviting happy accidents, if you’re open to letting the piece evolve. And if a mistake really does bother you, there’s always a fix. The key is to see mistakes not as signs of failure, but as invitations to play, adapt, and grow.
It’s so easy to fall into the trap of comparison, especially when your feed is filled with flawless loops and perfectly centered quotes. The usual advice is to stop comparing altogether—but it’s human nature to compare ourselves to others (for better or worse). I recently heard psychologist Ethan Kross on The Happiness Lab podcast suggest something different: instead of trying to silence comparison, try reframing it. When you admire someone’s work, remember that they didn’t start there. At some point, they were a beginner, too.
Personally, I always wanted to get good at calligraphy—but not in a pressured, perfectionist way. I saw things online that made me excited to try things out myself: a certain flourish, a new ink, a layout I wanted to try. It felt like a creative puzzle, and I loved the process of figuring things out. Skill came naturally over time, just by staying curious and creating for the joy of it. If someone else’s work amazes you, let it be a fun challenge—not a measuring stick.
If any of these myths sounded familiar, you’re absolutely not alone. We all pick up limiting beliefs, often without even realizing it. But now that you’ve named them, you can work to let them go—and make room for the kind of relaxed, joyful practice that moves you forward.
Warmly,
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