Story & Lesson Highlights with Kittie Beletic of Laurel Canyon

We’re looking forward to introducing you to Kittie Beletic. Check out our conversation below.

Kittie, we’re thrilled to have you with us today. Before we jump into your intro and the heart of the interview, let’s start with a bit of an ice breaker: What do the first 90 minutes of your day look like?
Sure! Most mornings, I’m awake before the sun even thinks about showing up. I make a giant cup of Bergamot tea and oat ilk, head to my favorite corner of the couch, and settle in while my dog claims her usual spot next to me. I flip on my YouTube fireplace, and that quiet crackle instantly makes the room feel like a tiny retreat. Then I open my journal and let whatever’s floating around in my half-awake brain spill onto the page: lists, ideas, worries, wishes, random flashes that may or may not turn into something. There’s no pressure, no policing, just a gentle easing into the day. It’s quiet, simple, oddly grounding. It took me years to create a ritual that feels this intentional, and now it’s the quiet rhythm that frames everything I do.

Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
I think a person’s story always threads itself through her work, and mine has been tuned to music from the very beginning. Melody has been the quiet compass behind everything I create, and it continues to shape the two artistic paths I’m exploring today: musical theater and visual art.

At PlayfulPerformancePress.com, I publish children’s musicals for schools and community theaters looking to spark imagination onstage. My aim is to build a vibrant community of teachers and directors working with young performers, offering them fresh material that has already been workshopped and is ready to bring to life. My writing has always favored the tender architecture of relationships, and that curiosity pours into each script.

My visual art home, KittieBeleticStudio.com, places me in another world entirely—one made of paper, ink, thread, and rhythm. I work in a signature style of “paper painting,” tearing and shaping tiny pieces by hand, tinting them with watercolor, metallics, handmade pastels, and other modern pigments. I weave in ancient handwork—embroidery, tatting, beading, exotic homespun yarns—to let texture and tactility guide the eye. The process is fluid and deeply meditative. the sounds made as I go through the motions has its own music and lives in my hands as I work.

I’m currently expanding both bodies of work: new children’s theater titles are in development, and my latest series of paper paintings is available for residential and commercial installations. I invite readers to explore both creative worlds and join me as they continue to unfold.

Explore my work at PlayfulPerformancePress.com and KittieBeleticStudio.com.

Okay, so here’s a deep one: What was your earliest memory of feeling powerful?
Power is a complicated word. To me, it has always meant strength, validity, a kind of inner influence that rises from who you are rather than what you achieve. I didn’t think about power as a child but I do remember the first time I felt something close to it. I was nine years old.

I had joined a statewide children’s chorus in Indiana through 4-H. A handful of us were invited to audition for a solo in the upcoming concert. About ten of us tried out; somehow, I was selected. When the night came, I walked to the microphone and looked out at a sea of faces waiting expectantly. The pianist played the introduction once, then again, assuming I was too nervous to begin. But I wasn’t frightened at all. I felt completely at home. I was aware of everything—the words, the accompanist, the orchestra, the subtle shifting and smiling in the audience. The room grew quiet in that attentive way that feels like a kind of trust. I remember thinking, I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. It was exhilarating. It felt powerful in the truest, gentlest sense of the word.

I’ve had that feeling at other moments in my life, not always onstage, but that first experience has stayed with me. It showed me what it feels like to be aligned with myself and to offer something that genuinely reaches others. That memory is still a touchstone.

What fear has held you back the most in your life?
Yeah, Fear is a tricky fellow. It arrives wearing all sorts of disguises, and its voice has shifted over the years, but I’ve learned to treat it like a visitor offering suggestions rather than demands. The most persistent version of it throughout my artistic life asked one simple question: What will people think?

I’m a good listener by nature, and for a long time I listened far too closely to that particular voice. At a few pivotal moments, it nudged me away from opportunities and choices that might have changed the trajectory of my career. Listening itself wasn’t the problem; listening has taught me a great deal. It helped me rediscover my own voice—the one that was clear and bright when I was a child but grew muffled over time by my instinct to be dutiful, agreeable as a pleaser who didn’t want to disappoint anyone.

Eventually, I learned to sort through the noise. I began to recognize which thoughts were genuinely mine and which were old echoes masquerading as caution. I started choosing based on instinct and intuition rather than imagined judgments. And slowly, something shifted. I began pleasing myself artistically, whether in music, visual art, or writing. I realized that my work, my choices, and even my failures belonged to me alone.

I spent years carrying a fear that didn’t matter. Once it finally loosened its grip, I felt almost giddy with curiosity again. Ideas rushed in, and I couldn’t wait to bring them forward and share the work instead of hiding it. Letting go of that fear didn’t make me fearless—it made me free.

I think our readers would appreciate hearing more about your values and what you think matters in life and career, etc. So our next question is along those lines. What’s a belief or project you’re committed to, no matter how long it takes?
I believe everyone is an artist. I’ve spent my entire life sharing and championing that truth. I’m committed to listening deeply to people—their ideas, their curiosities, the passions they’ve tucked away because something made them feel timid or unsure. I love the spark that happens when someone finally gives voice to a thought they’ve been holding. And I love the way collaboration shifts the air in a room. Creative conversation can happen anywhere: in a rehearsal hall, around a kitchen table, in a workshop, in line at the grocery store. That exchange of energy is one of the great pleasures of being human.

For me, creativity is the nature of life itself. We shape our days moment by moment by choosing how we respond to what’s in front of us. That kind of agency is a freedom we’re born with, and it evolves as we do. Of course, it isn’t always easy. Sometimes the path requires stumbling, re-calibrating, healing, speaking out, starting again. But that’s the adventure. Creativity shows up in our resilience, our tenderness, our curiosity, our courage. It’s in every single one of us, waiting for permission we don’t actually need.

I believe in sharing the truths we’ve earned and in lifting up those who need encouragement or recognition. I believe in creating spaces—onstage, on paper, in conversation—where people feel seen and invited into their own imagination.

And at the heart of all of it is a simple philosophy I return to again and again: Life is an Art Party! Color it, shape it, and celebrate it in whatever way feels most beautifully true to you.

Okay, we’ve made it essentially to the end. One last question before you go. When have you had to bet the company?
I’ve never been someone who thinks much about legacy. My life shows itself in my family, my friendships, my music, my writing, my art. That’s enough. The real work has always been learning to meet both the hardships and the gifts with the same steady heart. Neither arrives alone. Every risk I’ve taken has carried its own reward, and every blessing has come with something to navigate. I know I’m not unique in that. When people share their stories with me, I hear echoes of stories of my own: abandonment, naïveté, missteps, ego gone astray, loss, sudden upheaval; and also the surprising gifts of compassion, the strength of persistence, the grace of being helped at the exact moment I neededit, the quiet thrill of inspired work. These things belong to all of us.

So yes, I suppose you could say I “bet the company” all the time—just not in the traditional sense. I bet on myself. Every day, I trust myself to do the work, to be gentle when I need gentleness, to care for the people I love and let them care for me, to show up, to honor my commitments, to step into difficult situations with as much courage and clarity as I can manage. That’s the wager I make, over and over.

And truthfully, it’s the only strategy that’s ever made sense to me. I can vouch for it personally: betting on myself has never let me down.

Contact Info:

• Website: https://www.playfulperformancepress.com/. https://www.kittiebeletic.com/
• Instagram: kittiebeleticstudio
• Linkedin: kittie beletic
• Soundcloud: https://soundcloud.com/artists

Image Credits
All photos were taken by Kittie Beletic.