Why You Should Give Up on Creative Practices

Until you find what works for you.

“Any creative routine pitched by others is wrong. This is the only one.”

“Follow this routine and your creative output will quadruple.”

“For only $29, you too can have the secret to a daily creative routine you’ll never quit.”

Bullshit. All of this.

Creative routines do work. We want them to work. People pitching them get attention and money and sell workbooks and courses and hammer in a methodology that promises to work if you just keep at it… just buy this updated edition… just tell your friends… just keep trying over and over even if you get stuck, then start over and do it more. 

Making a living out of helping others be creative is fine — we wouldn’t be doing what we do without those frameworks in place. We’d love to offer free services, but because capitalism we’re just not there yet (subtle call for any nonprofits who might want to partner with us, though). 

So just to be clear: whatever practice works for you is good. 

Doesn’t matter how you get there, or how many people you tell (or don’t) about it. Doesn’t matter if you spent years figuring it out for yourself, or paid for one book or course and that’s worked for you for 20 years. You have a practice that works for you — and that’s the ideal!

This message is not for you, content in your practice and its stability.

For the rest of us: You are not less creative, or less successful at being creative, if you haven’t found a practice that works for you. Because this is not a one size fits most endeavor. It’s deeply personal. Entirely individual. 

And anyone who tells you their method is THE ONE is advertising to you — not trying to actually ascertain if their method, course, book, etc. really is for anyone. 

I’ve been there. 

I tried The Artist’s Way.

And I hate it. 

Not because I hate writing consistently, or don’t want to free my brain of excess thought so I can focus on being more creative, or any of the things that following its guide is supposed to help struggling creatives with. 

Because I can’t write every day. I can’t do THREE FULL PAGES every day. And because dumping out what’s in my brain when I’m in periods of depression, burnout, illness, financial insecurity, caretaking, or long term high stress… is not always helpful in dealing with those issues and their effect on my outlook. (Like, when you’re long term depressed, writing out those depressive emotions day after day doesn’t boost yourself out of those feelings.)

I tried 5am writing.

Lasted less than two weeks. I can get up at 6am in the summer. 6:30 when days are shorter. But 5am? Consistently? I’d have to be in bed by 8pm every night. And I need a slow morning. I need at least two sips of coffee to be remotely coherent.

I tried late nights.

Even worse than early mornings. My brain dies too early in the day to rouse my creative brain every evening/night. OR if I get involved in an actual project, I can’t shut my brain off when it’s time to rest.

I tried coloring every evening. 

I have arthritis. Sometimes I just can’t. Even when I want to. 

I tried alternating activities.

This worked on occasion. And generally is something I encourage — having more than one creative outlet. Not only for the benefit of having multiple ways of expressing yourself, healing yourself, tending to your creative self, but also for working through blocks and finding new things.

But again I failed at every day. Sometimes even every week. Because I chose projects over a process. I tried to hit markers and deadlines to finish things rather than playing.

I tried setting progress goals in a certain timeframe.

I have almost always overshot what I think I can do, and what I actually have time, energy, and drive to do. And while over time I’ve learned to be more realistic with those goals, and to be kinder to myself if I miss a self-imposed deadline, guilt can derail the best intentions time and again.

I tried engaging in creative pursuits after a walk, or a workout.

Chronic fatigue, y’all. Movement rarely gives me energy.

I tried FULLY distraction free. No music, stark environment, no screens. 

It’s a fun thing to say, write by candlelight for 20 minutes, as a change of pace.

But every day? No music? Total silence in a bare room? I’ll be mad within a week.

I tried groups and coffee shops.

Again, good for a change of pace. But relying on others as a routine isn’t sustainable or realistic. And if the sound gets to be too much, I will lose focus and then want to flip tables.

I tried a daily practice.

Now, that works more often than not with small tasks. 3 simple activities that take less than 20 minutes. It’s the most consistent I’ve been. 

But every day? Without fail? Absolutely not. 

I tried. I tried. I tried.

And yet…

Anytime I’m away from creating for more than a week I feel the impact. I feel the loss. It bleeds into everything else. 

So what is my routine?

It changes. Season to season. Year to year in my life. Because I change. I grow and recede. My needs shift. My energy shifts — like a lot, and often. 

But in trying, and failing, with numerous methods I’ve found options that work. No one, singular method. But a collection of small, simple activities that contribute to my wellbeing. The more I do, the better I feel. 

When life doesn’t allow for that 15-20 minutes every day, doing just five minutes every couple days, or as often as I can, is better than failing at someone else’s singular method that’s supposed to be the answer to everything. 

Nothing is THE answer.

Doing what we can, what makes us thrive, what the absence of makes us feel less than — doing that activity as often as we are able, that’s the only answer.

And it’s different for everyone. 

As it should be.