Creative Projects Don't Need a Grand Plan

Just start moving, doing, and getting it out there, then adapt.

I recently learned that in Ireland, they call the slightly drizzly, misty morning a “soft morning.” Well, I love a soft morning. It’s cool, it’s crisp, the grass is a bright green and slick with rain. I think November is the best time in Oregon. Yesterday, it was sunny and sweater weather, and we broke in the new riding lawn mower. I wish I took a picture, but I was too busy watching Brendan bounce around, with a trail of dust behind him, happy and in his element.

So on this soft morning, I sat down at my worn dining room table, with my cup of Earl Grey tea. I’ve decided to start a new journal. Even though I’ve made three journals now, the process is still a bit of a mystery to me. Will it work the same? Will it all come flowing out, or will I have to work at it? How can this one capture this moment, these feelings, these questions, in a way that feels current and real?

Like with all creative projects, I didn’t start with a grand plan. In fact, you never really know the outcome until you start creating. But generally, anytime you’re making a piece of art or doing something creative, you start with a truth. You just look at that truth, pick at it, observe it, and try to catch it. And here’s the truth that I started with:

My mornings are generally a mess.

Let me explain. I know I am a writer, and I am organized, and I also kind of give advice for a living, so a lot of what I say is with a certain level of gusto and confidence. But most days, I wake up and have ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA where to start. There are a few reasons for this. First, I am a deep sleeper and have transportive, wild, lucid dreams. It takes me a while to shift from dream state to reality (also, I am a Pisces, so go figure). Second, I want to be moved by feeling and routines bore me. Third, there’s a lot of routine that has to happen in the morning (kid’s lunches, laundry, scrambling eggs), so there’s just a bunch of stuff that I have to get through before I can even sit down and start plotting my day.

I’m not the kind of person who wakes up, goes to look at the sun to set my circadian rhythm, and starts off the day with a 6-mile run. No. I’m like a puffy, zombie chicken. I have to be defrosted and brought back to life. It can be really frustrating because of course I would love to be productive and just get to it, but that’s not how it works.

[Because this details the inner workings of my creative process, I’ve made this post available to paid subscribers ($5/month) only. If you’re an artist yourself or are just generally curious, consider subscribing, thank you!]