A day of your own

And a promise to myself

Dear Creative Adventurers,

Being without my cascading to-do list was a lot. It was supposed to feel lighter. They said it would feel good, but the tension in my shoulders and brain refused to believe it. Trying to force the flurry of feelings into a calm holding pattern for some sort of art to take shape demanded more energy than I’d been prepared for.

Perched at the end of a bow-legged dining table with only a lukewarm cup of tea and a blank computer screen for company, I hovered.

The anticipation of putting a formed idea on to paper after so much time away was laced with the kind of breathlessness that often follows first kisses… or running for your life. It was going to be raw and exposed and agonizing.

But the process, in all its twisted, tangled glory, was calling to a part of me that needed more presence. For what purpose, I didn’t yet know.

This year I’ve made myself a promise – to take “a day of my own” every week. Not a Saturday or a Sunday, but an intentional workday reserved entirely for creative pursuits beyond my main studio. Why? Because as much as I adore my commercial work (and I really, truly do), creating for others is not quite the same as creating for one’s self.

My hope with “a day of my own” is to relearn my identity as an artist — something that has felt dimmed lately, especially in the wake of throwing all my creative strength into navigating the studio through the ups and downs of the pandemic.

Was this inspired by The 4 Day Week? Yes, although I confess that I only skimmed the book. The general concept is intriguing and when headlines popped up about countries like Spain, Belgium, Japan and Iceland taking the four day work week out for a whirl, I felt even more drawn to experimenting with the idea, but with a twist.

Right now, for me, it’s not about adding an extra day to the weekend. It’s about setting a formal and clearly defined time to honour my own creative ambitions.

Now, I know “a day of my own” sounds luxurious – it certainly does to me. And I’m grateful that after running my studio for nearly a decade, I’m now in a position to be able to structure my week this way. But this isn’t a day off in disguise. There are no meandering breakfasts or clocking in after noon – although the temptation is real. It’s work of a different kind. It’s office hours for a specific focus.

It’s me waking up extra early once a week, grabbing a cup of tea, wrapping up in my favourite grey sweater and parking myself at the dining table* with my laptop and a renewed determination to tackle my own personal projects without interruption. No notifications, no calls, no appointments.

{* the dining table is a purposeful decision, because I don’t yet trust myself not to stray over into client work if I sit at my desk.}

Have I created anything breathtaking so far? No. Absolutely not. In fact most of these days feel like this… and this. But there’s a fresh cadence to my creativity. It’s almost as though I’ve come back to myself, in both new and old ways, as I begin to clarify ideas that have been percolating through my soul for ages.

A “day of my own” might not be possible in your current schedule, but the premise of promising yourself time can be applied in other ways. Perhaps it looks like Wednesday evenings after supper, or Sunday mornings before the rest of the household wakes up (something I used to do when I was working full time for someone else and the studio was just a glimmer of a teeny-tiny side hustle.)

Over the years, I’ve clutched at pockets of time wherever I could find them. I’ve been the night-owl carried away by inspiration until 1AM and I’ve been the 5AM-er who dipped into her daydreams before rushing off to work (although that time-slot didn’t last for long). I’ve been the employee who scurried away on lunch hour to outline new ideas and I’ve been the commuter who planned personal projects on the jostling subway ride home.

Maybe your creative time looks like an afternoon every other week or maybe you squeeze in a precious hour before bed to work on an idea that is deliciously all yours.

Whatever we can manage, as creatives, promising ourselves time to work exclusively within our own artistic headspace is invaluable. After all, our creativity is a skill and like any skill it needs consistent practice to stay strong.

Keep creating wildly!
Laura

PS: I’d love to hear about an idea that’s deliciously all yours and when your creative time is, if you’d like to share. I’ll go first — right now I’m quietly working on a photography exhibit most Monday mornings between 7AM and 9AM — eeek!

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