In fall of 2003, I got a copy of The Artist’s Way and decided I was going to work through it step-by-step. I completed the twelve weeks, and the effect on my creative life was nothing short of transformative. Yet, one thing tripped me up along the way and kept me from continuing the program beyond the twelve weeks. This stumbling block was Morning Pages.
According to Julia Cameron (author of The Artist’s Way and several other excellent books) you’re supposed to write three pages longhand in a notebook, first thing in the morning. Every. Single. Day. These are called Morning Pages and they are the foundation of the whole Artist’s Way philosophy.
Unfortunately, it seems I am allergic to Morning Pages, at least in that very rigid format. Let me explain.
First, I am not a morning person. If I happen to drag myself awake at an early hour (i.e. a normal time for other people) I am crankypants for the rest of the day. Plus, my brain refuses to function before I’ve had my morning cup of coffee, so doing anything “first thing in the morning” is a nonstarter.
Second, I love writing longhand, but I don’t love the three-page requirement. I’ve been journaling consistently (and almost daily) for over two years, and the thing that still gets me with morning pages is that three-page requirement. Some days, I have a lot to say and I write five or even six pages. Other days, I’m just not feeling it, and I write half a page at most. The key is that I give myself permission to write (or not write) as much as I want.
Third, the “every single day” thing really doesn’t work for me. I’m one of those people who shows up to class on time, hands in the homework without fail, and does all the extra credit. What can I say, I thrive on being a dutiful, “good student.” This is why having to do something “every single day” is a recipe for disaster. I miss a day, I can’t forgive myself, and I fall off the train. After that, it’s so much harder to get back on track and I’m likely to give up altogether.
It’s okay to break the “rules.”
If you look at my regular journaling practice, it might seem like I’m a Morning Pages aficionado. I have notebooks upon notebooks written in longhand, most entries at least three pages long, and of them are written sometime in the sort-of morning (usually while I sip my coffee).
But here’s the thing: I bend the so-called rules a lot. I don’t call them Morning Pages. I call it journaling, and that small distinction gives me permission to do it my way.
I live in a family of rule-breakers. Lady Bug sees a rule and immediately thinks: “How can I get around that? Where’s the loophole?” (Yes, we may have a budding attorney on our hands.) Little Man sees a rule and goes: “Wait. What rule?” He’s so oblivious of the rules that they don’t even exist in his world. And when I see a rule, I immediately see it as a challenge. I don’t like being pigeon-holed and the minute a rule boxes me in, I look for a way to break out of that box.
This is why at DIY MFA, we don’t believe in rules or best practices. We believe in doing what gets results. For me, that means changing the name of my morning freewrite from “morning pages” to “journaling” and not letting the rules get in my way. Ultimately, the result is the same, but giving myself the flexibility to break those rules is what allows me to keep up the momentum.
Why journal? Why Morning Pages?
According to Julia Cameron, the main purpose of Morning Pages is to clear out space for your creative thinking. You brain-dump all the garbage floating around in your head and throw it on the page. Then it’s out of your way so you have room for creative thinking.
I think there’s even more to it than that. I’ve been journaling consistently for 944 days (with a few days skipped here and there because of travel and other commitments). Yes, a lot of what I’ve written in those 944 days has been complete and utter garbage, but some of it has also been useful. For example, I designed the entire curriculum for my Plan to Plot workshop through writing journal entries.
Some of my best ideas have come after a few pages of journaling. Yes, the free-writing probably got the junky ideas out of the way and cleared space for the good ideas, but I also think that working things out on the page is part of what helps me think more clearly. For me, writing and thinking are synonymous. I think best when I have a pen in my hand.
In college, I was an English major and I distinctly remember not quite understanding various texts until I had to write a paper on them. It was as if the act of writing allowed me to see things more clearly and connect the dots in ways I wouldn’t have otherwise. The same is true for me with journaling. I need to process the ideas by writing them down before I can fully understand them.
True advocates of Morning Pages say that this practice is about well-being: lowering anxiety, feeling more centered, clearing your mind, and silencing your inner critic. These things are all important, and I have no doubt that these same effects have been present in my own journaling. Still, I think of journaling more as a cerebral exercise than an emotional one. It’s a way of warming up my brain to get it ready for more creative work.
I think of journaling as being the equivalent of kneading clay. In middle school I took some pottery classes, and one of the more tedious things we had to do was knead the clay before we could make anything from it. Kneading clay is important because it makes it more pliable and also removes air bubbles that can potentially ruin your piece. It’s not the most fun step in the pottery process, but it’s a necessary one.
Journaling is kind of the same for me. It’s like kneading my brain so that it’s ready for more important creative work later on. The process of journaling can be tedious. A lot of my writing is repetitive and whiny, but no matter what it serves its purpose and opens up my mind to more creative work.
What should you journal about?
In my journal, I write about whatever happens to be on my mind, and—not going to lie—that’s usually DIY MFA. I spend an inordinate amount of space in my notebooks talking about work. I do a lot of brainstorming for new classes and programs. I also make mental notes to myself of what I need to get done that day. There are many, many lists in my notebooks.
Sometimes, when life gets hard, I whine and complain. (Okay, more than just sometimes.) I also have a tendency to repeat myself. I give myself orders, like: “Time to stop writing and get to work.” And sometimes, when I don’t know what to write, I just say: “I don’t know what to write” over and over until something else pops into my head.
Some people use their journals as a log. I know one writer who kept meticulous journal entries of her teenage years, documenting all the social drama of middle school and high school. I can only imagine what it would be like to read some of those entries as an adult. My point is, for some writers, a journal can be a way to keep track of life events and document important milestones. For others (like me), it’s just a space to brainstorm ideas.
Should you reread what you wrote?
I generally don’t reread my journal entries. I have a lot of notebooks and rereading would be a monstrous undertaking. My earliest notebook was given to me by my aunt at age ten and it’s titled “My Diary.” I’ve been journaling on and off since then. This means there’s at least forty or so notebooks from my middle school years through the present.
Occasionally I’ll dip back into old notebooks but not that often. It’s fun to read entries from when I was a teen (I was snarky back then!) but it almost feels like I’m snooping on my past self, like I’m violating my own privacy. It’s also interesting to see how much my handwriting has changed over time. Sometimes it’s almost unrecognizable, like the journal was written by a completely different person. There are some entries where I can barely make out what I wrote.
I think it depends on the person. You might find it useful to look back on what you wrote in years past, especially if your creative writing is based on your own lived experiences (like a memoir or essay). It might be helpful to read old journal entries, almost as primary sources, so you can remember what happened at key points in your life. Or you might prefer just to let those old journals sit quietly on the shelf and know that they are there for you if you need them.
Whether you call them “Morning Pages” or “journaling” or some other word, this practice of writing longhand on a regular basis can do wonders for your creative thinking. It can help you clear your head and let you process your ideas on the page. I have found this practice extremely valuable and when I don’t have time to journal in the mornings, I feel it in my mood and my overall creative output.
Until next time, keep writing and keep being awesome!
P.S. For more info on Gabriela Pereira, the founder and instigator of DIY MFA, check out her profile page.
