Here’s how to set the stage so inspiration stops ghosting you.

1. Choose Your Cathedral

Every ritual needs a sacred space. For some, it’s a weathered desk by a window with just enough dust to feel romantic. For others, it’s a laptop balanced on knees in bed, flanked by coffee and chaos. The key is consistency. When you sit there, your brain should whisper, “Ah, we’re doing the thing.”

Make your space a signal, not a prison. Fill it with objects that light a fuse—books you adore, a candle that smells like your plot twist, a plant that hasn’t died yet.

2. Set a Summoning Time

Creativity is wild, yes—but it’s trainable. Pick a time of day and stick to it like it’s a standing date with your better self. Morning scribbles? Midnight madness? Your call. Just make it non-negotiable.

If you only write “when you feel like it,” your novel will be finished around the same time as the heat death of the universe.

3. Build a Bridge to the Work

Don’t just start writing. Ease in. Rituals are about rhythm. Begin with something sensory—brew tea, play the same moody instrumental, read a poem aloud, or scribble in a notebook like it’s a warm-up lap. These cues whisper to your subconscious, “The gates are open.”

Even Pavlov’s dog needed a bell.

4. Declare a Vow of Imperfection

Perfection is a sterile lover. Don’t wait for the sentence to sing—just get the bones down. Your ritual isn’t about writing something good. It’s about showing up. Inspiration is less lightning bolt, more cranky roommate who shows up only when you’re already doing the dishes.

Repeat after me: “It can be trash.” Now write it anyway.

5. Close the Circle

When your writing time is up, honor the ending. Blow out the candle. Say a word of gratitude. Stretch like a medieval monk who’s just illuminated a manuscript. Let the ritual have its own exit, so the magic doesn’t leak into everything and lose its shape.

A good writing session should leave you hungry to return, not wrung out like a forgotten washcloth.

6. Guard It Like Gold

Here’s the deal: the world doesn’t care if you write. Life will try to steal your ritual with emails and dishes and existential dread. You have to defend it like a dragon guards its hoard. You don’t need more time—you need to protect the time you already have.

Say no like it’s your job. Because it is.

Ritual isn’t superstition. It’s scaffolding. It’s how you build a chapel inside your life for the sacred act of creating something from nothing. You don’t have to wait for the muse. Light the candle. Start the music. And write like you’ve got a secret to tell the world.

Because, let’s face it—you do.

Inspired? Ritual-ready? Tell me yours—or ask me how to build one from the bones of your day.

How to Woo the Muse Without Begging Her to Text You Back

Writing, like love, doesn't thrive on chaos—though it sometimes springs from it. The truly good stuff? That’s brewed in the calm, not the storm. If your creative spark feels like a cat that only shows up when it wants to, it’s time to build a writing ritual that coaxes it to curl up beside you, purring, ready to pounce on the page.