Wake up in the right state of mind. The night before, commit to the idea that you’re going to conjure up some amazing things the next morning. Make a deal with yourself that you’re going to invest every moment that you have to immerse yourself in your work. What you’ve got indoor head will make it’s first foray into the world, and you will create valuable work.
Eat something that you love for breakfast or brunch. Don’t eat something that you feel you need to eat. Your creative day is about being in an amiable mood, one that as accepting of ideas and runs with them. If you want Creme Brûlée French toast, with a noisette, that’s what you’re having. It it’s porridge with berries, go with that. Don’t restrict yourself. That’s the antidote to creation.
Setup your workspace. Perhaps you feel more comfortable with books scattered and piled up everywhere. Maybe you like your brushes neatly in their home, or maybe you don’t want anything but your main instrument. Ensure your space is conducive to creative work by ensuring that it’s just how you like it. Be picky, it’s ok.
Whatever little nuances or rituals you have, do them. But don’t get distracted. Today is about your work. Today is about getting what you want out of life. Distractions will always exist. Will your opportunities? Think about that.
Ignore anything negative. Sometimes we have nagging feelings that the creative path we’re on is wrong. But sometimes we need to go the wrong way to get to our better place. It’s experimental. You’re giving things a chance, and mixing them up. It’s about alchemy.
Surround yourself with positive reminders. Photos, artefacts — little triggers of happiness. Much like the lemon madeleines in Proust’s Remembrance of Things Past, where one bite of his lemon madeleines mentally transports him to another time, another memory, suddenly intoxicated.
No sooner had the warm liquid mixed with the crumbs touched my palate than a shiver ran through me and I stopped, intent upon the extraordinary thing that was happening to me. An exquisite pleasure had invaded my senses, something isolated, detached, with no suggestion of its origin. And at once the vicissitudes of life had become indifferent to me, its disaster innocuous, its brevity illusory…. I had ceased now to feel mediocre, contingent, mortal.
Now get creatin’!