THE ARTIST’S WAY
This month, I started The Artist's Way again. It’s not the first time I’ve worked through the program - designed to help break through creative blocks and move forward creatively - and each time I return, I seem to learn something new about myself and my practice.
One of the keystones of the process is morning pages. The premise is simple: set your alarm 30 minutes earlier than usual and write three pages. That’s it. And yes, it is harder than it sounds. Half an hour extra can feel like a big ask. I didn’t manage it this morning. But when I do get to the page and write, it’s a bit like swimming in the sea - it’s hard to get in, but I never regret it.
The content doesn’t matter. In fact, it’s the free-flowing, slightly aimless nature of it that makes it so useful. Sometimes I start with nothing in mind and end up writing three pages about something I didn’t even realise was on my mind. Other times, I sit down to pour out a pressing concern, only to drift onto a completely different topic within a few sentences.
The beauty of morning pages is that they take the pressure off writing entirely. You become comfortable writing absolute rubbish, knowing that the only way out is through. I think this translates to creative practice more broadly. In a world where so much creative output is documented, shared, and judged, the pressure to produce something “worth sharing” can quietly become another form of creative block.
Another core element of The Artist’s Way is the artist’s date, done once a week. For some reason, I’ve always found this the hardest part. I overthink it, trying to come up with something fabulous to do for myself, and often end up doing nothing and feeling guilty. This week, however, I managed to get out - a walk through London and a visit to the Wellcome Collection. It was simple but I did get a lot out of being there and able to roam freely with my thoughts.
The book itself is structured in 12 chapters, each focusing on a different topic. The first week addresses the block often called self-doubt - or the inner critic. There are tasks designed to help uncover where that voice might have come from. As children, our scribbles are praised, but gradually, we learn to be cautious, careful, and measured. Messy drawings come down from the wall, replaced with expectations for good grades, sensible jobs, and socially-approved success.
Week one is about reclaiming a little of that childlike creativity and beginning to heal those early wounds. One simple task - a 20-minute walk - made me realise how ingrained the habit of “needing everything to lead somewhere” has become. I set off feeling guilty for taking time without a purpose, thinking about listening to a podcast, or sketching things and documenting my time. But the walk had no agenda, no goal, and that’s exactly the point.
Lately, I’ve also been spending more time in the studio on a series of paintings I haven’t shown anyone yet. There’s a subtle pressure to document or share progress, but this time, I’m letting the work exist privately for a while. It feels a lot like morning pages: creating without worrying whether it’s good, finished, or for anyone else to see.
I’m just about to start week three now and this time approaching The Artist’s Way, I’ve struggled more than ever. Perhaps it’s because I feel I’ve answered these questions before, but reflecting honestly, I know that’s not the case. Maybe I’m blocked, or maybe I’m in a transitional stage. Either way, the process reminds me that it’s okay not to have the next step fully mapped out.
Creating work that has no clear agenda brings its own guilt. Is this really what I should be doing? Am I progressing my career enough? Is it good enough? And yet, I know that being challenged is exactly why this is the right time to be doing this again - because breakthroughs often come when you persist through discomfort.
Balancing the need to create with the need to earn a living is challenging, especially during transitions. The uncertainty can be frustrating, but for now, I’ll keep showing up to the page and the studio, trusting the process, and letting the work unfold. By reclaiming the childlike freedom to create without judgment, I hope to move through this period with renewed energy and purpose. I’ll check in next month and let you know how it’s progressing.