Creativity is not something I turn on.
It is something I tend.
My morning self-care practice is integral to keeping my creative channel open - and at the heart of that practice is something beautifully simple: Morning Pages.
Where It Began
Sixteen years ago, I read "The Artist’s Way" by Julia Cameron and committed to her twelve-week program. That book changed my life.
During that season, I had the honor of serving as a guest blogger for the publisher, Tarcher/Penguin, for twelve consecutive weeks while working through the exercises. It was both meaningful and deeply affirming - especially at a time when I was still finding my voice.
More than a decade and a half later, I am still writing Morning Pages. Not because I “should.” Because I need to.
What Morning Pages Actually Are
Morning Pages are simple:
Three pages.
Longhand.
Stream-of-consciousness.
They are not meant to be eloquent. They are not meant to be insightful. They are not even meant to be interesting. They are a brain dump. A clearing. A purging of everything taking up valuable real estate in the mind - worries, resentment, unfinished conversations, to-do lists, fears, creative ideas, grief, longing.
When I write consistently, my creativity flows more easily. My nervous system feels steadier. If I go two or three days without writing, I notice it immediately. I don’t just feel creatively blocked. I feel dysregulated and emotionally unsettled. And that is never good for creating boldly or living beautifully.
How I Practice It
I typically write for about fifteen minutes, or until I’ve filled three pages. Some mornings it’s less if time is tight. Other mornings it’s more if something is weighing heavily on my heart. The key is not perfection. The key is honesty.
And I always write by hand.
There is something about pen to paper that connects me to my inner wisdom in a way typing simply does not. The body is involved. The rhythm is slower. The truth surfaces more gently.
Why I Use a Composition Book
I adore beautiful journals. I will happily drool over them in a bookstore. But I have learned something about myself: when a journal feels precious, I hesitate. I want my words to be worthy of its beauty. And that hesitation blocks the flow. So I use an inexpensive composition book. When it’s full - both sides of every page - I let it go.
About a year ago, I read through eight years of old journals. It was gut-wrenching. I had already lived those seasons once. I did not need to relive heartbreak and trauma in order to grow. Now, I keep it simple. Practical. Disposable.
The purpose of Morning Pages is not preservation. It is release.
A Gentle, Trauma-Informed Note
If you have experienced trauma, grief, or deep loss, Morning Pages can sometimes feel intense. When we create quiet space, things we’ve been suppressing may rise to the surface. That is not a sign you are doing it wrong. It is simply your nervous system trusting the stillness enough to release what it has been holding.
If this happens, go slowly.
You do not have to write about the hardest thing. You do not have to excavate pain. You are allowed to stay on the surface. You are allowed to write about what feels manageable. You are allowed to stop.
Morning Pages are not about forcing catharsis. They are about creating space. And you are always in charge of how much space you open. If strong emotions arise, consider grounding yourself afterward - step outside, place your feet on the earth, hold something solid in your hands, take a few steady breaths. The goal is not to overwhelm your system. The goal is to support it.
Creativity Is a Channel, Not a Performance
Morning Pages are not glamorous. They are not Instagram-worthy. They are private, messy, and often repetitive. But they keep my channel clear. They help me show up to my art, my writing, and my life with more steadiness and less internal noise. They are one of the quiet disciplines that allow me to create boldly and live beautifully. If you are feeling creatively stuck or emotionally tangled, you might try this practice for yourself.
Three pages.
Longhand.
No editing.
No censoring.
Just begin.