Hook:
You know those Instagram influencers who wake up at 5 a.m., sip matcha, do yoga under a sunrise that looks suspiciously like Photoshop, and then triumphantly announce, “I’m so inspired!”? Yeah, that’s not me. My creative rituals often look more like an independent film still: stacks of half-written notes, a ceramic coffee mug forgotten mid-sip, and, occasionally, me pacing my living room dramatically like a poet in a storm. But hey, I’ve learned that creativity loves messiness—ritual just helps it find its way home.

Why You Need Rituals (Even If You’re Not Writing the Next Great American Novel)

Let me be clear: rituals aren’t about transforming into a flawless productivity robot. My routines don’t always make me crank out Pulitzer-worthy prose, but they do create mental space for ideas to show up uninvited, like that one friend who always arrives early to the party (charming, but ultimately helpful).

Rituals are about creating an environment where your creativity feels welcome—like a first date sans the small talk. They ground you when inspiration feels slippery. And for me, they’ve become these delicious little touchstones that remind me I’m capable, even on the days when my inner voice has more doubts than a ‘90s teen in a coming-of-age indie flick.

Step One: The Reset Button, a.k.a. Walking My Dog

First things first—before I tackle any project, I need to clear some mental cobwebs. Cue my dog, Baxter, who’s really more of a personality-packed raccoon disguised as a rescue mutt. Our morning walk isn’t Instagram-worthy; think less breezy “nature girl” and more “woman in yesterday’s sweatpants bribing her dog not to eat a squirrel.”

But here’s the thing about walking a dog when you’re creative (or just a human with 8,000 browser tabs in your brain): it forces you to unplug. Baxter doesn’t care if I’m overthinking an article angle or spiraling about whether I used the word “authentic” too many times in the first draft. Walking becomes this meditative pause—a way for my mind to wander without intention. And as I’ve discovered, when your mind wanders… it’s a breeding ground for brilliant (sometimes off-the-wall) ideas.

Pro tip: You don’t need a dog to recreate this. Take a walk solo. Leave your phone behind, or trade it for a playlist that makes you feel like a lead character in a low-stakes rom-com.

Step Two: Romanticizing the Mundane

I can’t lie: I have a flair for dramatics. My creative brain loves to turn the mundane into the cinematic. You know that TikTok trend about pretending you’re the star of your own movie? I live it casually. For example, brewing my morning coffee becomes a sacred act. First, I pull out my worn moka pot—a gift from my semester in Barcelona. Then I grind beans that smell like heaven and hum an indie folk tune nobody else but me remembers. By the time the coffee’s poured, I’m not only caffeinated (step one to world domination)—I’m also grounded.

This tiny ritual serves as a reminder: even the smallest tasks have meaning when you slow down to savor them. And when I’m writing—sure, I might be drafting an essay or trying to make a metaphor for relationships land—it’s so much easier to tap into that playfulness when I’m gentle with myself first.

Try it: Take one thing—making breakfast, watering a plant, folding laundry—and treat it with the tender reverence of a cheesy love montage. It’s corny, but trust me, it works.

Step Three: Controlled Chaos (A.K.A. The Notebook Pile That Ate Austin)

If you’ve ever sat down to create something and felt the pressure to make it perfect on the first try, welcome—you’re human. To combat this, I’ve developed a habit I call leaning into chaos.

This involves a stack of notebooks (or a Notes app collection for you digital folks) scattered throughout my life. I’ve got one in my nightstand drawer, one in the pocket of my favorite tote, and one on my desk that, at this point, deserves a preservationist’s touch. Whenever I feel even the tiniest whisper of inspiration—be it during a nonprofit board meeting or in the middle of debating tacos versus barbecue with friends—I jot it down.

The key here isn’t editing; it’s capturing. The first thought doesn’t have to be good—but like in relationships, you’ve got to show up before anything serious can develop. (And sometimes, your messy notes will charm you into loving them later. Ever re-read chaotic scribbles and thought, “Oh wow, that’s either gold or very late-night-snack-inspired nonsense”? Same.)

Step Four: People Watching as an Extreme Sport

Because I grew up in Austin, I’ve perfected the art of lingering in coffee shops and side-eyeing interesting strangers. People-watching is like research for creativity—no subscription required. And if you squint hard enough, you’ll start noticing the tiny, delightful quirks of human behavior that often inspire larger ideas.

For instance, the other day I spotted a couple arguing in line at a food truck, and as chaotic as it was, there was something oddly sweet about the way they were both still holding hands. Relationships—and creativity—are made of those contradictions.

The key is this: keep your mind open to what’s around you. Life’s sense of humor is everywhere, from the flirty barista with way too many inside jokes to the elderly man who keeps correcting his crossword in pen.

Homework for you: Spend 20 minutes in a café or park with no distractions. Make up a backstory for a passerby or eavesdrop on a nearby conversation (respectfully, of course). Let your imagination run wild.

Step Five: White Space Isn’t Just for Page Margins

This one took me years to master: you can’t run at 100% all the time. White space—or intentional room to breathe, reflect, and, yes, scroll memes guilt-free—is essential. When I over-force productivity, my creativity rebels. Sometimes the best thing I can do for my work is… nothing.

Back to dating metaphors (because this is my life, y’all): Creativity works a lot like attraction. You can’t manufacture chemistry by overplanning a first date—it has to have room to grow organically. So when I feel stuck, I give myself permission to take a break. Maybe I’ll queue up a comfort show (yes, we’re talking Parks and Recreation) or call up a friend for an early happy hour and a good gossip session. I trust that I’ll return recharged.

Closing Thoughts: Messy is Magic

Here’s the thing: There’s no one-size-fits-all guide to creativity. It’s gloriously personal, stubbornly unpredictable, and, at its best, uniquely you. My rituals work because they’re a hodgepodge of my personality and lived experience—equal parts introspection, caffeine, and people-watching sass.

The trick is to experiment, find what clicks for you, and remember: creative rituals aren’t there to fix you—they’re there to remind you to show up. Whether your version of “showing up” is scribbling in a notebook during a dog walk, brewing the perfect cup of tea, or blasting Beyoncé in your kitchen, do it with intention. The magic will take care of itself.

And when all else fails? Go outside (squirrels optional).