My approach to "morning pages" is slightly unorthodox, but it works for me.

For one thing, I set a timer instead of a page count. I've done Julia Cameron's The Artist's Way a few times now and, even with waking up early, writing three full pages by hand tends to add friction to my mornings rather than alleviating it. Which is also why I break the rules on the whole "morning" part of the criteria as well.

Like today, for example.

It's mid-afternoon and I'm sitting at my desk with my notebook in front of me. I'm leaning on my left forearm and scribbling with my pen. My feet are perched on the rolling legs of my chair. I don't know why, but it makes me think of venting to a friend at the Cowboy Bar in Jackson, Wyoming where the barstools are saddles. Except instead of talking over drinks at a loud bar, I'm writing in a notebook in a quiet office.

Today's been one of those leap-frog days. You know, the kind where you jump from task-to-task, crossing shit off the list. It feels good. It's also why it seems like I blinked and now we're deep into the afternoon.

My brain's a restless brain.

Lots of thoughts whiz around in there. Puzzle pieces flit here and there, possible scenarios play out, past scenes replay. On days like today, it's uncomfortable to sit still with a brain like that. Writing my "morning pages" doesn't sound all that fun. It sounds slow and like it's going to be a total slog. I like having written something and I like the process of writing something, but I abhor the chunk of time right before I start writing something. That's where the timer comes in, though. Because I can type almost ludicrously fast. I see words and phrases like Tetris columns in my mind. It can be pretty fun, actually. And when they fit together easily, my typing is speedy. But when they're a jumbled mess, it takes, well... longer.

That's exactly why I like my unorthodox approach to "morning pages." Because sitting here, all hunched over and saddled-up at my desk, my brain that's almost always a restless brain has some room to sprawl. I'm still leaning on my forearm and moving my pen, even though my timer went off a fair bit ago. Sure, writing by hand is slower than if I were typing. But this is where I find and sort the Tetris pieces.

You know... without having to solve anything.

* * *

How do you go about wrangling your thoughts?

onward.

For more on this daily column, read the backstory here. And if you know someone who'd appreciate this, pass it along.