Scribbling

Joshua Fields Millburn
Posted on February 6, 2013

It was the same problem every time.

Beautiful new sketchbook in hand, I’d run my fingers over its high-end cover, spine, and pages. The paper? Crisp and pure. The binding? It hummed with rigid refinement.

The bound collection of blank canvases was perfect. Too perfect. So perfect that I couldn’t bring myself to mar the uncontaminated pages, lest I dull its luster.

More than anything I was afraid of that first bare page. Whatever I drew would be the first thing I saw every time I opened up the sketchbook, and it would set the tone for all future drawings on all subsequent pages.

Additionally, the primary page product would be the first impression sketchpad perusers had of me and my work. If that initial attempt at art were to fail, so would I, in the eyes of my friends, family, and potential employers.

After years of misgivings and stacks of sketchbooks piled neatly — spines uncracked — in dresser drawers, waiting for someone to make use of them, I pulled one out, opened it up to the first page, and scribbled all over it with a thick, dark pen.

The action was born of frustration, but the result was strikingly therapeutic: I felt no unease at turning to the next page and drawing whatever I might draw. It was as if I had uncorked a giant pressure valve and exhumed all the harmful toxins from my craft. The first page was complete — I could move on.

These days, I find the same tactic works when I’m having trouble getting started writing a book, essay, blog post, or even an email. I’ll jot down whatever comes to mind — call it a pre-first-draft — and just get the basic ideas on paper, no matter how cluttered they might be.

From there, the words come more easily, and by the time I’m done I know what needs chopping and refining and editing.

Writer’s block is only an issue if you allow it to be. If you’re feeling stuck, just start scribbling.