Ever tried to summon creativity when your brain feels drier than the Idaho desert in July? That was me last week, sitting in my favorite coffee shop downtown, staring at a blinking cursor on my laptop like it was an enemy I’d picked up in a Wild West showdown. After ten minutes of doodling potato-shaped clouds in the margins of my notebook (old habits…), I realized I needed to hit the refresh button on my brain. So, I leaned back, sipped my oat milk latte, and mentally revisited the rituals that always seem to bail me out when I’m deep in a creative dry spell.

We all have our go-to moves when it comes to getting inspired, and for me, they’re a mix of self-care, structured chaos, and—ironically—embracing procrastination as its own quirky art form. Let’s get into it.

1. The Sacred Morning Walk (a.k.a. “Main Character Energy”)

Think of any movie where someone has a breakthrough or resolves a huge life crisis by walking thoughtfully under a canopy of trees. That’s me—but with a slightly crooked baseball cap, messy bun, and my dog, Charlie, zig-zagging predictably into my path.

Every morning, I carve out 20 to 30 minutes to wander through the Boise foothills. There’s something about watching the early light hit the sagebrush that clears my mental cobwebs. I let my mind wander freely—no podcast, no music, no overthinking plotlines for essays I’ll probably start two weeks from now—and just let my brain do its own thing. Sometimes inspiration drifts in, and sometimes the fog just lifts enough to finish a sentence.

Brainstorming tip? Distracted inspiration is inspiration too. Jot notes into your phone if an idea strikes mid-trail, but don’t feel guilty if your biggest takeaway that day is simply the feeling of a breeze.

2. Romanticizing the Mundane

Do you know how Gwyneth Paltrow has probably lit a $200 candle that she smugly refers to as “ceremony”? Well, I do the same thing… except with a slightly burnt lavender candle I once got for $6 at the Co-op clearance shelf.

The key here isn’t the price tag; it’s the ritual of setting a mood. I don’t believe in forcing creativity in plain white light next to a cluttered desk. Instead, I tidy my space, maybe drape a thrifted blanket over my chair for vibes (the more impractical, the better), and soundtrack my session with something playful and lyric-light. Think: that dreamy mix of Bon Iver meets some no-name indie band from Portland you definitely haven’t heard of.

It’s like dating yourself: You wouldn’t sit down with your partner, plop down some fluorescent lighting, and shove a to-do list in their face, right? Treat your creativity with the same respect. Light the candle. Pour yourself a tea you’d probably never finish at a cafe. Say it’s for the “aesthetic” and roll with it.

3. Channeling My Potato People DNA

This one might sound odd, but here me out. Idahoans are nothing if not resourceful (and yes, we really are this proud of our potato farmers—I come by it honestly). When stuck for ideas, I ask myself: “What would your grandparents do if it snowed on harvest day?” I imagine my grandmother rolling up her sleeves, ignoring excuses, and getting it done creatively.

This is where I force my hands to move, even if my brain lags. My favorite hack? Writing on paper. Something old-school about putting pen to paper feels messy and imperfect in the best way—it’s potatoes-to-gold for creativity. Nothing says “progress” quite like scribbles and crossed-out lines.

Fun Fact: Studies show you’re more likely to retain and develop ideas when writing them out by hand. Thus, it’s not JUST that I love the grungey brainstorm pages—I’m also, supposedly, "hacking my brain." Science!

4. The Power of Strategic Procrastination

Here’s the deal: I was once the kid who “accidentally” turned in their book report right at the buzzer, fueled by the mantra “pressure makes diamonds.” I’m still built that way. But instead of fighting it, I’ve learned to work with my procrastination instead of against it.

Here’s how it plays out: when I can feel procrastination creeping in, I lean into tangents that feel creatively adjacent. I’ll check out an art exhibit at the Boise Art Museum, bake a loaf of bread (am I secretly applying for citizenship to Cottagecore Nation?), or pick up a book of Mary Oliver poetry and underline sentences that resonate.

The key? Only procrastinate in ways that refill your creative well. Scrolling social media for two hours won’t earn you that ah-ha moment. But folding laundry while binge-thinking about your next big idea just might. Side note: I once came up with the concept of a personal essay while rage-mopping my kitchen. Whatever works.

5. Shifting Scenery: The Idaho Version of Running Away

Sometimes the scene just gets stale, which is when I “break up” with my workspace for the day. My best thinking happens when I take my laptop out to places like the Boise River Greenbelt or the patio at my favorite brewery (fitting, because my parents ran one when I was growing up—I guess artisanal beer is my creative catnip).

The change in environment always flips a switch. It’s like a little permission slip to think differently. In fact, I’ve written some of my favorite essays sitting by the river, sipping on chamomile tea I bring in my beat-up thermos, as sunbathers float by on rubber tubes. Sure, you might get the occasional bug bite, but tell me that isn’t a fair trade-off for unlocking your brain’s deepest thoughts.

Pro Tip: If a new location isn’t cutting it, change something else—wear the funky hat, order the strange latte, or sit in an awkward chair. Force novelty onto your day. You’ll thank me when lightning strikes.

6. Letting Go of Perfection (and Laughing at Myself)

We’ve all been there: you’re editing something for the 12th time, and suddenly, you hate its very existence. When this happens, I think back to a piece of cheesy advice from my high school debate coach: “Leslie, you can revise forever, but nobody gets judged by a draft they never submit.”

Translation: Done is better than perfect, and at some point, you have to release your weird little creative baby into the world. Brownie points if you remember to laugh along the way. Once, I accidentally submitted a draft that referenced “potato-based relationships” instead of “potential relationships.” While horrifying, my editor howled with laughter—and the piece ultimately did pretty well online.

Nowadays, I lean into the humor of flops too. Misspell something? Congratulations, you’re human. Just like bad dates, bad drafts teach us what works—and sometimes, they’re funnier when they don’t.

Wrapping It Up

Here’s the thing: creativity isn’t a faucet you can crank on at will. (Oh, if only, right?) It’s more like flirting across the bar—sometimes it comes naturally, and other times, you’ve gotta ease into it, maybe buy yourself a metaphorical drink (or two).

Don’t overcomplicate it. Creativity isn’t something you master—it’s something you learn to navigate, like relationships or artisanal beer brewing. So light that $6 candle, take a walk, scramble your routine, and most importantly, give yourself the grace to muddle through.

Because here’s the magic of it all: creativity will come back to you. It always does.