Morning Pages

 This month I’m taking a writing course (delivered in five sessions) on how to infuse your (fictional) characters with interiority, how to show them processing their thoughts in an interesting way.

Meanwhile, in real life, we have thoughts running through our heads ALL THE DAMN TIME. But how many of those are interesting? How many of those are worth noting down?

I have been in the habit of hand-writing Morning Pages for a few years now. Morning Pages is a practice created by Julia Cameron (The Artist’s Way) and defined as ‘three pages of longhand writing, strictly stream-of-consciousness’.  It’s a morning brain dump before the world intrudes. I believe she says to do it before eating or drinking anything, but I treat that as a mere suggestion because my morning coffee is more than just ‘drinking’ something, it is life-giving blood.

Cameron states, “There is no wrong way to do Morning Pages. These daily meanderings are not meant to be art.” Mine definitely are not.

I write Morning Pages (not always three, sometimes just one) every morning. It’s a routine that is as much a part of my day as brushing my teeth (which I do after writing them). Most of my pages consist of a dump of random thoughts. Occasionally, I’ll note down what I remember of my dreams the previous night, what I thought of a book I’ve just read, some ideas on the manuscript I’m working on. But mostly – thought dump onto the page. Does this help me in any way? All I know is it’s a built-in routine for me – morning coffee, my chair facing the sunrise, my notebook and pen in hand, and in winter, a blanket across my knees and the fireplace on. This routine keeps me grounded and starts my day.

Those days when I was commuting into work, I would write my morning pages on the train, hoping no one was peeking over my shoulder. Although, even if they could read my illegible scratching, why would it be of any interest to them? They would be absorbed in their own thoughts.

This routine is my morning nourishment as is my kale smoothie and oats with yogurt. I think these practices give us comfort and stability in a world that is increasingly alarming and terrifying. Starting and ending our day with routines and rituals provide predictability and solace.

At night I read before I sleep, even if it is just a page or two, it’s something I cannot skip. I start my day by writing words on a blank page and end my day by reading a page filled with words. Thoughts lead to Words. Words lead to Thoughts.

I’ve never kept a gratitude journal. I imagine it would simply be a repetition: health, family, close friends, comfortable living space, good food, spectacular sunrises, books, art supplies, fat pens, notebooks, coffee, walking trails, travel, people who do the kind of good in the world that I cannot or don’t. I imagine my gratitude journal would be short-lived.

But my morning pages? If I’m lucky, they will go on forever, because thoughts don’t end until you do. Even if I repeat and recycle thoughts from months ago, my perspective may have shifted, and I may process the thoughts in a new way. Maybe an interesting way?

I started this blog post with the Interiority course I’m taking, intended to enhance the depth of the fictional characters I create. But it has also made me think about my own interior life and how I process those ever-present and changing thoughts.

It comes down to this: “I write entirely to find out what I'm thinking, what I'm looking at, what I see and what it means. What I want and what I fear.” (Joan Didion).