The morning pages are a scam

And what I do instead

Listen, Julia Cameron has done a lot for us. So many artists credit her book, “The Artist’s Way,” for helping them unlock their creativity, and that’s wonderful.

But I abandon the book every time.

I, an artist who draws, paints, writes, sings, or a combination of these things every single day of her life, abandons the book called “The Artists’s Way” over and over.

It might be that the book isn’t designed for people who are already making. It does include some interesting exercises. The morning pages— 3 pages of stream-of-consciousness writing first thing in the morning— are its most popular offering.

But the structure of the program makes no sense to me. Most people can’t devote an additional 20 hours a week to writing letters to past teachers and going on artist dates and imagining 30 alternate lives and writing writing writing writing. I’ve never even read past that chapter, because it seems so exhausting to me. My time is precious, and I work a lot; I could be using all that energy to actually make art.

If we all waited until we had 12 uninterrupted weeks to rehabilitate ourselves creatively, it would never happen. We want to be creating NOW.

What has been far more effective for me is finding small windows of time to work on small projects, and scaling up when time, energy, and resources allow.

My schedule is irregular, so committing to 3 pages of stream of consciousness writing every single morning isn’t realistic. Also, is it single-spaced? Double? What size notebook are we supposed to use? What if your handwriting is small? I have beef with the morning pages!

What I do instead, is something I’m calling the Prayers.

If I have 15 minutes in the morning before I start any admin or housework, I’ll do a sketch. Morning prayers.

If I have 30 minutes in the afternoon, I’ll do a small watercolour painting. Afternoon prayers.

If I have 20 minutes in the evening to write a verse and a chorus, those are my Evening prayers.

The flexibility of medium, time of day, and duration, means I am more likely to show up. I am practicing more skills. I am creating more regularly. And on the days when I have less running around to do, I finish the song, I scale up the painting, I expand the collage.

These small moments of time are a refuge. They are meditative. They help me quiet the mind and observe, contemplate, express. Staying open to when and what means I’m more likely to show up. The act of sitting down is what matters. Perfection of routine is not in this play.

I am not doing this to psycho-analyze myself or find some core trauma that’s made me scared to make anything, as “The Artist’s Way” posits. I think in some cases, that exercise can be a distraction. I’ve had my share of naysayers in art school, and in my music career.

But the truth is, art isn’t about whether you personally are good enough. We just have to make and keep making. There is nothing physically stopping us from finger-painting, building a small cabin with toothpicks, or writing a poem about our favourite ice cream flavour. No one can stop us!

So on days when we feel our unfinished canvas staring us down, or our voice notes burning a hole in our pocket, the solution may not be 12 weeks of constant introspection and letter writing. We can create something small, silly, whatever we want.

There is no prize for finishing the greatest quantity of high-art projects. But that doesn’t mean we can’t exercise our creative muscles in other ways day-to-day. It’s good for our well-being. In my experience, the big stuff gets finished when we are practiced and confident in the small stuff.

I would love to know how you’ve experienced the book, and what you’ve noticed about your relationship with your creativity when approaching it as a prayer or offering, rather than making each project proof of your inherent goodness or badness as an artist.

My Morning Prayers today:

xx