Sometimes creativity feels effortless, like catching a breeze at the top of a mountain trail. Other times? It’s more like wrangling a lobster without a trap—slippery, frustrating, and downright impossible. Over the years (and plenty of trial and error), I’ve learned that creativity doesn’t show up uninvited. It needs nurturing, some coaxing, even the occasional bribe. Here’s a peek into the personal rituals that keep my inspiration flowing—and my sanity (mostly) intact.

The Sunrise Starts Everything

If I’ve learned one thing from growing up on Maine’s shores, it’s that the world feels entirely different before the rest of it wakes up. There’s a stillness at dawn that’s hard to find anywhere else, and it’s my ultimate creative reset button. You know how chefs have mise en place, where they perfectly arrange all their ingredients before cooking? Sunrise is my mise en place for the day. Whether I’m sitting on the porch of my parents’ B&B with a steaming mug of coffee or perched on some mossy rock overlooking a tidepool, those quiet moments give me room to brainstorm, reflect, or simply be.

Practical Tip: If you’re not a natural early bird (and I see you, night owls), find your own version of sunrise magic. Maybe it’s an uninterrupted lunch break or the golden glow of dusk. The key is carving out time for stillness before life’s demands take over.

Hiking Through Writer’s Block

There’s a reason so many of my essays compare creative struggles to nature. Every obstacle I face while hiking feels oddly metaphorical: the rocky footing, the unexpected mud puddles, the all-consuming need for a snack three-quarters of the way in. When I hit a creative wall, my instinct isn’t to fight it—it’s to grab my hiking boots. Something about putting one foot in front of the other on a winding trail shakes loose the mental cobwebs. It’s like taking the Wi-Fi router in your brain and unplugging it for a second, just to see if it resets. Spoiler: it usually does.

Some of my best ideas—whether about writing or relationships—have come somewhere deep within Acadia. Writing about love, for example, becomes a lot easier when you’re on a trail that reminds you how much relationships are like crossing wobbly bridges: trust in your partner (or your footing), and eventually, you’ll make it to the other side.

Practical Tip: Next time you’re stuck in a creative rut, ditch the desk. It doesn’t have to be a wilderness expedition; even a walk around your neighborhood can help. Movement is magic.

The Playlist of Productivity

My creativity demands a soundtrack, but it’s picky. No lyrics (too distracting) and no complete silence either (because hello, racing thoughts). Cue my go-to: instrumental folk or ambient indie tunes that sound like they were recorded in a cabin tucked away in the woods. Think Sigur Rós, Fleet Foxes (but only their gentler tracks), and a particularly hypnotic playlist of Icelandic instrumentalists I discovered on my research trip years ago. There’s something about music that feels like its own kind of tide—it swells, recedes, and shifts the mood in ways words alone can’t.

Practical Tip: Build your perfect playlist that sparks creativity without crowding your thoughts. Experiment with genres, tempos, or even environmental sounds (ocean waves, café chatter) to see what works. Because sometimes, finding the right background is like finding the perfect romantic partner—it takes trial and error, but oh, when it clicks.

The Ritual of “Treat Yourself” Tea

Whenever I sit down to write, whether it’s an essay, an article, or my poetic musings about clams (don’t knock it till you’ve read it), I treat myself to an elaborate tea ritual. I’m not fancy enough for those ceremonious Japanese tea ceremonies, but I am dramatic enough to own an array of loose-leaf blends I probably don’t need. The process—choosing a blend, boiling the water, steeping, smelling all the earthy aromas—grounds me in a way that’s as comforting as, say, rewatching When Harry Met Sally after a breakup. Plus, by the time the tea is ready, I’m usually itching to pour my creativity into something besides a mug.

Practical Tip: Long, drawn-out rituals not for you? That’s fine! Focus on the tiny habits that prep your brain for flow mode: light a candle, sharpen some pencils, or—if tea isn’t your thing—pour yourself a glass of wine (or sparkling water). The action itself doesn’t matter as much as its ability to trigger your creative gears.

Nature Journaling: A Love Letter to the World

By now, you can probably tell I’m someone who sees metaphors everywhere. So, it probably comes as no surprise that I’m obsessed with my nature journal. Okay, obsessed might be an understatement—it’s practically a second brain. Whenever something in nature catches my heart—a gull standing against a fierce wind, a snail carving trails in a seaweed patch, the fog rolling in over the Atlantic—I scribble it down. It’s less about perfect sketches or prose and more about reminding myself how rich and strange the world is. These little observations find their way into my writing, like breadcrumbs leading me to a fully fleshed-out piece.

Practical Tip: You don’t need a fancy notebook or even perfect grammar. Simply jot down what moves you—whether it’s the expressions of strangers at your local coffee shop or the curious behavior of your houseplant. Treat it like a treasure map, and dig for the gems later.

When All Else Fails: The Maine Cliché

On particularly uninspired days, I embrace the most overdone activity Maine has to offer—I dig into a lobster roll (but only if the bun’s toasted, because standards matter). Yes, the creativity boost might be placebo, but sometimes leaning into comfort and indulgence is exactly what you need. Maybe it’s the buttery richness or just the ritual of cracking something apart to find what’s inside, but I usually crawl out of my creative slump, claw by claw. See what I did there?

Practical Tip: Find your “lobster roll,” aka the small, indulgent ritual you’ll look forward to when creativity deserts you. Pancakes smothered in syrup? Sure. Binge-watching Parks and Rec on your couch for the third time? Absolutely. Joy restores us—never underestimate its power to transform blah into brilliance.

Final Thoughts

Creativity isn’t some magical companion that shows up whenever you need it; it’s like a tender relationship, one that requires time, care, and yes, a little bit of bribery. Whether it’s sipping tea, walking trails, or waking up at unruly hours to greet the sun, my rituals are less like rules and more like love notes to my inner artist. And when life gets messy—because it always does—I remind myself there’s nothing wrong with returning to the basics and starting over, inch by inch. So the next time inspiration feels elusive, pause, breathe, and ask yourself: what ritual will lead you back to your spark?

Let’s find it, one sunrise at a time.