It’s a truth universally acknowledged (sorry, Jane Austen) that the creative process requires more ritual than a 19th-century whaling voyage. Whether you’re untangling the mystery of romance or trying to pen a great novel—or in my case, often both—creativity thrives on a careful blend of routine, inspiration, and a dash of chaos. For me, the rituals that fuel my imagination are peppered with bits of Nantucket’s salty air, my historical obsessions, and some thoroughly modern quirks. Because let’s be honest: no one churns out anything worthwhile by just sitting at their desk waiting for a lightning bolt of brilliance.

Let me take you through the habits I’ve built to coax my creativity out of hiding—and yes, they work for more than just writers. If you’re trying to figure out life, love, or even why that last date left you ghosted, these rituals are surprisingly adaptable.

1. Morning Rambles: Walking Off the Fog

I always start my day with a walk along Nantucket’s sandy shores, where the ocean teaches a lesson as old as time: that everything ebbs and flows. There’s something about the crash of the waves, the tang of salt in the air, and the occasional appearance of a rogue seagull that loves to scream at you like it’s auditioning for a role in Hitchcock’s The Birds. No hard feelings, buddy.

For me, these walks are like shaking an Etch A Sketch—clearing my mind of yesterday’s worries, doubts, or (let's admit it) embarrassing text messages sent after one too many glasses of cabernet. Creativity or clarity rarely strikes when you’re stuck indoors with a screen glowing at you like a needy Tinder match.

Pro Tip: You don’t need an ocean. Walk wherever you can: a park, a quiet neighborhood, even your apartment hallway if you’re desperate (just wave awkwardly at the neighbors). Walking is meditative—your body moves, and your brain wanders into new territory. It’s where you’ll stumble upon the best ideas—or, if nothing else, justify your Starbucks run.

2. Reading Like a Time Traveler

My creative inspiration doesn’t come from a Netflix binge—though Bridgerton gets an honorable mention for its steamy drama and absurdly glamorous costumes. Instead, I escape to the 19th century, flipping through diaries of Nantucket whalers or devouring novels from Herman Melville himself. There’s something about stepping out of your time that revives the brain. Also, as someone who has literally read love letters written during an eight-month whaling voyage, let me reassure you: long-distance relationships have always been difficult.

Why does this work? Because history has a way of bringing your present into sharper focus. It’s humbling to read the words of someone who survived harpoon fights, starvation, or, say, weeks with no deodorant, and yet still managed to serenade their sweetheart on paper. Romance, like creativity, requires faith in something unseen—but no less real.

Try This: Pick up a book or dive into a topic wildly outside your normal interests. Not everything will stick, but something might set your brain buzzing—whether it’s Viking mythology, the history of cocktails, or the science of bee colonies. Throw your mind a curveball and see where it lands.

3. Coffee Breaks (and Other Culinary Compulsions)

Coffee is my creative sidekick. Every morning, I take time to brew a perfectly over-complicated cup while pretending I could survive as a 19th-century sailor (spoiler: I couldn’t). Grinding the beans, measuring them with the precision of a jewel thief, and slowly savoring the first sip creates a little ritual of joy. It’s like performing a tiny spell to summon the muses—and it never fails to give me that hit of optimism I need to tackle the blank page.

It’s amazing how the small things you savor—like coffee, a lovingly crafted breakfast, or, heck, that M&M stash in your desk drawer—can root you in the here and now. Creativity sometimes isn’t about solving the big mysteries of life but indulging in life’s small pleasures first. Start small. The big, transformative stuff will follow.

Food for Thought: What’s your little ritual of indulgence? Maybe it’s a candle you light, a playlist you obsess over, or a smoothie bowl you tell yourself is super healthy (as you dump half a jar of peanut butter in). These tiny acts ground your day—and sometimes that’s the first domino to fall.

4. Embracing the Art of Daydreaming

By now, you may have noticed I’m a big fan of wasting time—but in productive ways. One of my least glamorous yet most effective habits is letting myself stare into space like a cartoon character who’s just heard the words “all-you-can-eat pancakes.”

Daydreaming taps into the deep wells of creativity because it lets your brain wander past the limits of logic. Some of my best ideas emerge while I’m rearranging the spice rack, folding laundry, or watching the tide roll in. This is the mental equivalent of letting dough rise—it takes patience and a dash of magic you can’t quite control.

Permission Slip: Let yourself be idle sometimes. Seriously. Ignore that tempting cult of productivity that tells you every minute has to be useful. Your brain can only spark new connections when it has room to breathe.

5. Finding the Romance in the Ordinary

Here’s a not-so-secret trick to creativity, or even just happiness: romance isn’t restricted to dates and candlelit dinners. It’s in the way sunlight filters through your kitchen window. It’s in the strange, hushed beauty of a foggy morning. It’s noticing how the seagulls squabble like rival Real Housewives on Nantucket harbor (again, no hard feelings).

Falling in love with the details of everyday life is my secret sauce for staying inspired. It’s also not unlike the start of a relationship: you don’t have to wait for grand gestures. Pay attention to the little things. They matter.

6. Dirty Hands, Clear Mind: Doing Something Physical

Let me set the scene: my creative process sometimes involves physical work—stacking firewood, painting the storm shutters of my family’s old inn, or attempting (and occasionally failing) to assemble a bookshelf. There’s something about stepping away from a mental project and diving into something tactile—something that doesn’t require words. It’s restorative in ways modern screens simply can’t replicate.

Don’t have an inn to paint? No problem. Do a puzzle, fill your laundry basket, or make sourdough like it’s 2020. Just use your muscles. The creative breakthrough will come once you’ve stopped overthinking.

7. Romanticize Failure (Yes, Really)

I’ll level with you: sometimes my creative rituals come to absolutely nothing. I’ve written entire pages about Nantucket’s whaling history that had all the narrative appeal of a phone book. I’ve had creative meltdowns that make Oscar moments seem tame. And yet, those failures have taught me as much as the victories.

Relationships and creativity both bloom best when you stop fearing the mess. The bad first drafts—the ones you’d prefer no one ever sees? They’re necessary. The awkward first dates, the big breakups, the moments of terrible karaoke that bond you to someone new—these are all part of the process. Fail gloriously. Embrace it.

In Conclusion: Creativity Is Courting Yourself

At the end of the day, creativity isn’t some grand muse swooping in to bless you—it’s a commitment you make to yourself. It’s about trusting that even on the bad days, the rituals you’ve built will catch you. So whether you’re trying to write the next great novel, make sense of your dating life, or simply outwit another manic Monday, remember this: rituals are love letters to your future self. Keep writing them. Keep believing. The tide always turns.