Routine is the scaffolding we build around the terrifying void of a blank page, a silent studio, or an empty calendar. It’s the 7:00 a.m. alarm, the specific mug, the two-mile walk that ends at the same bodega for a too-expensive banana. For the freelance creative in New York City—someone who pays rent by juggling …
I used to think routine was the enemy of creativity. It felt like a cage—a beige, corporate, nine-to-five cage that would strangle every wild, artistic impulse I had. I was a freelancer in New York City, for goodness’ sake. I was supposed to be chasing muses down fire escapes at 3 a.m., not setting an …
Routine and creativity. They sound like a couple that met at a party and immediately started bickering about the thermostat. One wants order, predictability, a color-coded Google Calendar. The other wants to stay up until 3 a.m. eating cold pizza and rearranging the furniture. For years, I thought I had to pick a side. As …
The Myth of the Muse and the Magic of the Mundane I used to believe creativity was a lightning bolt. A fickle, divine visitor that struck when you least expected it—preferably while you were wearing a silk robe, sipping espresso, and gazing pensively out a rain-streaked window. I’d wait for the muse, and while I …
There’s a particular sound a set makes when it comes apart. Not the crash you’d expect. Quieter. The unscrewing of platforms. The soft collapse of a flat that stood for someone’s living room for three weeks. Adhesive ripping away from the floor where Spike had marked your ninth cross. It sounds like something admitting it …