Creative Rituals
What do you do to start your creative day?
For a long time, I waited for creative days to arrive. I figured that in order to make something, inspiration was going to have to strike, so I sat on the highest point I could find and waited for lightning. (Figuratively speaking. Please don’t actually do that). Those days do happen, but they feel about as rare as waiting for literal lightning to hit. Now I know that I need to schedule my creative days. It’s far less romantic, but on the other hand, much more reliable.
First, I generate inspiration for myself. I read voraciously and widely. Writing I enjoy inspires me to work harder and develop my style; writing I don’t enjoy helps me to solidify what kind of writer I don’t want to be. I listen to writer interviews, or reader podcasts, or book reviews. Anything I can get my hands on to get me excited about writing, and to remind myself why I love it.
Then I make sure to get into the mood of what I’m creating. While I get ready for the day I put on whatever playlist I think reflects the mood of a story or character I’m working on. This is a pretty vital step. If I try to approach my dystopian sci-fi world with a rom-com attitude, the words just aren’t going to come out right, if they come at all.
Though I would love to be living high in the mountains with zero responsibilities, I, like many humans around the globe, have to go to work, or exercise, or make sure the house remains free of biohazards. I try to do these things first before I actually sit down to put words on a page, so that my concentration doesn’t need to be divided. Often I can daydream while ironing or lighting a stove, or practice dialogue aloud while making dinner. Something about mundane repetitive tasks lets my brain relax, and having one or two sentences ready makes sitting down in front of a blank page later a little less daunting.
All that’s left is to make sure my belly is sufficiently full, I have some sort of nice drink on hand, and a candle is lit. Pavlov used a bell, I use beverages and scented candles. It’s a signal to my brain that We Have Begun.
I get the words out any way I can. Sometimes they want to be typed, other times handwritten. Sometimes they want to be in a big notebook, or a small one, or a shopping list, or my notes app on my phone. Blue pen? Black pen? Purple? Whatever. I used to care about separating everything out neatly, but I found it ended up stifling me. I’m much less precious about how the words get written. All that matters is that they get out of my head.
I write until I can’t anymore, or until I get hungry, or until I Really Should Go To Bed. I don’t set a word count for myself to hit. Pressure like that just makes me freeze up (though, ironically, I love deadlines). If I’m lucky, I’ll be on a Zoom call with my friend and we take breaks to share what we’ve done. I love getting excited by her work, and her enthusiasm for mine motivates me even more.
Some days the words pour out in their thousands, others it’s by the dozen. I persevere, but I don’t torture myself. If I don’t keep the love alive, my confidence will wear away until I can’t face the page anymore. I just focus on generating inspiration again. Vacuum the stairs. Walk the dog. Revisit a favourite show. If I don’t eat, I don’t have energy; the same goes for creating.
When I’m done, I blow out the candle. Can’t leave the door to the other side open, etc. Translating and transcribing your brain onto a page is exhausting, so I make sure to decompress afterwards. Generally it is a good idea to remember to talk to someone that does not just exist in your imagination for a bit.