I’m not a morning person. Let me just start by saying that. Dawn might be a muse for some, but for me, mornings feel like being nudged awake by a persistent toddler holding a pot and a wooden spoon. Despite this (or perhaps because of it), my daily creative rituals have become a sacred way to ease into my day and coax my imagination into full bloom. Whether I’m writing fiction, an article like this one, or simply journaling my tangled thoughts, these rituals are my way of stretching my creative muscles.

If you’re the kind of person who’s ever wondered where creativity hides when you need it most, let me share some habits that keep me tuned in. Spoiler: It’s not always glamorous, but then again, neither are relationships until you add your own spark.

Sip It Like Neruda: Coffee as a Love Letter to Yourself

First things first: Coffee. Not in an “I-can’t-function-without-it” kind of way, but in a “this-is-a-romantic-gesture-to-me” kind of way. I learned to drink coffee in Santiago, where every street corner smells like freshly ground beans. But Madrid refined my love for it: coffee is less about gulping down caffeine and more about creating a moment.

At home, I brew it slow and steady, watching it drip like the start of a rainstorm, rich and earthy. I pair it with a moment of silence—no emails, no phone, no distractions. Just me, my steaming mug, and a window view of the day getting brighter. It feels indulgent, like the first chapter of a book you don’t want to put down.

Why does this matter for creativity? It sets the tone. It’s the equivalent of flirting with your mind: slow, intentional, and open to possibilities. And like any good flirting, it makes you feel alive.

Music Is My Matchmaker

Music has always been central to my life. Growing up in Santiago, I was that kid who could mouth every lyric to a Violeta Parra song before even knowing what heartbreak was. These days, music plays a different role: it’s both a muse and a mood-setter.

If I’m stuck creatively, I dive into Nueva Canción playlists. Violeta Parra, Mercedes Sosa—these women didn’t just sing; they bled their truths through melodies. It reminds me of the power of being raw and authentic in your craft. On other days, I’ll revisit old-school reggaetón if I need movement—a literal shake from stagnation. (It’s hard to stay stuck when your hips are protesting against your chair.)

Here’s a trick: Find the soundtrack to your current project or mood. Writing about longing? Layer in some acoustic guitar. Need to map out a plot twist? Cue a cinematic instrumental. Music connects dots in your brain you didn’t know were there, like a matchmaker setting you up with your next breakthrough.

Walk It Off—But Make It Dramatic

It sounds clichéd, I know. But hear me out: walking works. There’s something uniquely therapeutic about wandering aimlessly, especially in a city. Madrid taught me the art of the paseo, that leisurely stroll where you don’t have any real destination but magically arrive somewhere you love.

When my mind feels crowded, I step out with zero agenda except to move and observe. The rhythm of footsteps creates space in my brain to untangle everything. One moment, I’m stewing over a sentence that refuses to behave, and the next, I’m drafting new ideas in my head, inspired by the couple arguing loudly on the plaza bench nearby (seriously, public drama is an underrated creative resource).

Whatever your medium, walking frees up your thoughts. Bonus points for pretending you’re in a Pedro Almodóvar film. Stroll like someone’s about to cue dramatic violins in the background. It makes every step feel charged with creative potential.

Channel Your Inner Poet... Even in the Mundane

Daily journaling is non-negotiable for me. And no, I don’t mean those tidy “Dear Diary” entries. My journal is part confessional, part chaotic brainstorming session—I pour everything into it, from half-cooked metaphors to shopping lists (“Buy more Manchego” is particularly inspired).

The trick isn’t perfection; it’s honesty. Writing unpolished thoughts often unlocks polished ideas later. Think of it like dating: before you can settle into something deep, you have to let the messy bits out—awkward jokes, random tangents, bad metaphors and all. Creativity thrives in that mess, so let it spill.

Need a tip to get started? Open a page and free-write to this question: "What’s been on my mind lately?" Be as dramatic or mundane as you want. You might surprise yourself when your thoughts get a little more poetic.

Romanticize the Unremarkable

If there’s one thing Pablo Neruda taught me, it’s that ordinary moments—peeling an orange, tying your shoe, sitting on a bus—deserve grand odes. Creativity doesn’t demand grand settings or complicated tools; it thrives when you romance the simple things.

Take dishes. Yes, dishes. Nothing glamorous about scrubbing plates after dinner, right? Wrong. Put on a playlist (the moodier, the better), and treat the task like a metaphor for cleansing stagnant thoughts. Or light a candle before bed like you’re some Gothic heroine with secrets to reveal and write by its glow. Essentially: Find ways to make routine tasks feel cinematic, and let the magic seep into your work.

My grandmother used to say, “Cómo hagas algo pequeño, así harás todo”—"The way you do small things is how you’ll do everything." Make your everyday rituals a love affair with the ordinary, and watch as your creativity follows suit.

Give Yourself Permission to Pause

Finally, and perhaps most crucially, I honor rest as part of my creative ritual. In Santiago, where the world slows for a sobremesa after lunch—a leisurely chat that can stretch into afternoon—I learned the art of lingering. Rest and creativity aren’t opposing forces; they’re dance partners.

If I feel drained, I close the laptop, set down the pen, and let space exist. Rest isn’t unproductive; it’s transformative. Treat it as the exhale that makes your next inhale richer. Creativity will come knocking again, but only if you don’t force her arrival.

In the end, creative rituals are like courtship. They require patience, intention, and room to breathe. Some days, they’ll sweep you off your feet; other days, you’ll argue about who left the cap off the toothpaste of inspiration (metaphorically speaking). But lean into them, nurture them, and trust them to bring you closer to your spark.

So, the next time you’re staring at a blank page or stuck in a rut, take it slow. Drink your coffee. Walk it off. Dance it out. Write the messy, awful words. Remember, whether in love or creativity, the surprises come when you least expect them—so make space for them to arrive.