Why I Need My Morning Coffee (and Other Creative Rituals)

Let me set the scene for you: it’s 5:42 a.m. The Wyoming sky is doing its best impression of a watercolor painting, with strokes of lavender and hints of burnt orange. The horses in the paddock are stirring, their breath visible in the icy dawn air. Inside the cabin, it’d be dead silent if not for the groan of my trusted coffee maker—a relic from some bygone decade, but let’s not talk about that.

I’m perched at the kitchen table, staring at a legal pad (yes, I still use those), waiting for the first burst of caffeine to silence the cranky cowboy part of my brain and let the creative writer take the reins. Creativity isn’t something you summon; it’s something you coax. And let me tell you, my friends, my creative rituals are the lasso that keeps ideas from stampeding away.

Let’s dive into the habits that keep me inspired, productive, and maybe just a bit sane—as sane as someone who jots down love metaphors at sunrise can be.

1. Getting Out of My Head (And Into My Boots)

For me, creativity starts before I ever sit down to write. It starts outside. There's something about the simple act of pulling on my dusty boots and heading to feed the horses that clears the mental cobwebs. You can’t chase inspiration while scrolling Instagram from under three layers of blankets. It’s like trying to spot constellations in daylight.

When I walk the frostbitten earth in the mornings, I’m reminded that creativity usually needs a partner: movement. There’s something primal and grounding about routine physical tasks—that satisfying crunch of snow underfoot, the rhythmic swish of hay—and before long, my brain feels ready to work.

Even if ranch chores aren’t in your life rotation (and let’s keep it real, they’re not for most people), engaging in a hands-on habit can help. Gardening? Yoga? Even folding clothes works. The key is to lose yourself in the process; the ideas usually sneak up on you when you’re not looking.

2. The Ritual of “Terrible First Thoughts”

Let me tell you, my legal pad doesn’t intimidate me. It’s not shiny or high-tech, and no one’s about to screenshot my handwriting. The beauty of writing with pen and paper is there’s zero pressure to make it good. And that’s the secret: the first draft of anything I create is, without fail, objectively terrible.

Here’s the thing about bad first drafts—a truth I learned long after agonizing over “perfect” sentences in grad school: bad doesn’t mean useless. Think of it like sculpting. You start with a lump of clay, and at first, it looks like…well, a lump. My ideas are often awkward, stilted, even embarrassing in their early forms. But I’ve learned to embrace that stage because guess what comes right after “clumsy lump of clay”? A masterpiece in progress.

Tip: Give yourself permission to write garbage, whether it’s journaling about your latest crush or jotting ideas for the next great rom-com. No one looks at an unpolished diamond and sneers.

3. Fueling the Fire (With Aspen Sparingly, Coffee Abundantly)

I’m convinced coffee isn’t just a beverage. It’s a lifestyle choice, a friend in liquid form, and in my case, an artist’s muse. My morning cup isn’t just about caffeine (though I won’t lie—that’s a big part). It’s about creating a tiny, predictable ritual I can rely on when everything else feels unfocused.

Now, before you think I’m some kind of Hemingway-wannabe with a coffee addiction and leather-bound notebooks (okay, maybe leather-bound), allow me to clarify: rituals can look however you want them to. For me, coffee is the soulful glue, but your “fuel” could be herbal tea, lo-fi beats, or digging into a cinnamon roll like the world’s ending.

What matters is the comfort of knowing you’ve primed yourself for creativity. It’s not the coffee itself that does the trick; it’s the familiarity. Repetition is soothing. Predictability breeds freedom. Do something every day that unlocks your sense of ease, no matter how small. Creative energy is born when your mind feels cozy, not chaotic.

4. Finding Inspiration in the Mundane

Out here in Wyoming, the words “Netflix binge” don’t exactly define our entertainment scene. The nearest movie theater is 40 minutes away, and let’s just say the nightlife is more hoot owl than hip hop. So, I’ve learned to find inspiration in the small stuff.

Last week, while chopping firewood, I suddenly realized how much dating was like stacking logs. (Pause for laughter because, yes, this metaphor is happening.) You’ve got to lay down a solid foundation—the big, sturdy pieces before the kindling sparks. Without the right base, nothing catches fire.

I look for metaphors like that all the time in my everyday life. They don’t have to be groundbreaking; they just need to nudge you toward surprising connections. Do you ever zone out while washing dishes and suddenly uncover the perfect way to explain how ghosting feels? Or hum a song you haven’t heard for years, and suddenly, it inspires a sentence? Entire ideas can bloom from the smallest seeds. Don’t overlook the ordinary.

5. Solitude, Then Storytelling

I’ve spent plenty of time alone. Some of my best ideas have come while snowshoeing through the woods or sitting by a frozen creek, notebook in hand. But creativity thrives just as much in conversation. I’ve learned to finish my stories not in solitude, but by telling them, live, to someone else.

You test-drive ideas by speaking them aloud—a sheepish “hey, does this make sense?” or an animated retelling of your worst first date to a friend. It’s like gauging whether the horse enjoys its new saddle before heading up the trails. If I see someone laugh, cringe, or nod when I share an idea, I know I’m onto something.

If you’re the type who drafts poems or posts in your Notes app instead of talking things through, cool. But don’t underestimate the magic of saying something out loud. It helps you notice the messy parts and self-edit in real time. Plus: storytelling connects you to other people, and isn’t that what creativity’s about?

6. The Grand Finale: Rest

My final creative ritual is one I never used to take seriously: the art of doing nothing. I mean really nothing. No sketchbook, no phone, no agenda. I’d argue this is harder than brainstorming or editing because our brains are wired to do stuff.

But let me tell you, when I sit out under the stars, cup of cider in hand, no tech in sight—bam. Clarity shows up. The best ideas tend to knock at your door when you’re not so obsessed with finding them.

If you're stuck, give yourself permission to rest. Creativity isn’t always a sprint; sometimes, it’s a saunter. Fill yourself with the quiet kind of joy that comes from simply existing. Trust me—your brain will thank you later.

The Takeaway: Your Rituals Are Yours

You don’t have to live on a ranch or nerd out about metaphors while chopping firewood, but creativity loves routine—and loves when you make it personal. Whether it’s morning yoga, blasting Fleetwood Mac’s greatest hits, or doodling in the margins of meeting notes, rituals are anchors. They help you wade through uncertainty to find what’s worth saying.

So saddle up (metaphorically, maybe literally—it’s Wyoming; I can’t help it). Your creativity is just waiting for the chance to come alive.

Now, how about a cup of coffee first?