Settling into routine

The everyday stuff that makes the work possible

It’s hard to believe I’ve already been in my new studio for over 2 months now — the space still smells of new paint, and there are still boxes to unpack.

Yet the work is indeed happening, and the fall (busy season) is fast approaching.

My earth placements (Taurus, Capricorn) certainly love consistency, and moving into a new space invites them to help me design a new kind of stability that’s suitable to this moment in time.

For the last two months, a typical day begins around 7:30am — which is just when my cat’s screaming for breakfast can no longer be ignored.

I do my morning stretching while the coffee brews. Perhaps a quick tidy around the home.

Armed with coffee, I sit down for either a quick journaling session, a little bit of reading, or a quick tarot pull to help ground myself for the day.

I try (but often fail) to do at least two of the three: make-up, cute outfit, tidy hair.

As long as it’s not dumping rain, I’ll walk to my studio — which takes about 40-45 minutes depending on how often I stop to take photos of flowers.

Behold, about 30% of my camera roll

Opening up shop is a sweet ritual — putting the keys in their designated spot and turning on the lights, depositing bags and ingredients for lunch. Watering the plants and wiping the studio’s surfaces for a fresh start.

Then finally, the work day begins. 

Which projects are a priority this week? Which shall I focus on today? What to do first, in what order, and for how long at a time?

When to eat, drink, pee, and stretch?

My fellow maker-types often cite time and project management as one of the most challenging aspects of being self-employed. It’s true — you can have the most visionary ideas and extraordinary skills, but what are they if you can’t implement the practices necessary to bring them to life?

During the pandemic, absent of an externally-imposed schedule to keep me on track, I had to devise many strategies for managing my time. 

I started sitting down with myself at the beginning of every week to block out my time: Work block A. Work block B. Lunch. Reading. Resting.

Every month, I would reassess and refine my schedule based on what I was working on, my energy levels, and the season’s rise and fall of the sun. Some stuff worked, some really didn’t — but I started to understand which parts of the day were more suitable for which activities, and became better-attuned to my own physical and mental rhythms.

I read Annie Dillard’s The Writing Life, in which she says:

“A schedule defends against the chaos of the day.”

What a concise way to describe how it feels to make my schedule — a small but impactful effort to conjure order against the constant turmoil of “so much to do, so little time.”

After four years of honing this practice of schedule-making, I feel more secure in my ability to gauge both my capacity and my limits. I’m grateful for this practice, which keeps me grounded and balanced, more prepared to work effectively with others, and ultimately able to transform my ideas into reality.

Now back to work, as Work block B is upon us!