Morning pages: what they are and how to write them

Morning pages are three pages written every morning, right after you wake up. You write in one go, without stopping, without editing and without asking whether any of it makes sense. Julia Cameron described the practice in The Artist's Way (1992). Writers and musicians have used it ever since, and so have plenty of people who just want a quieter head before the day starts.

In short: it isn't a diary, it isn't planning your day, and it isn't "good" writing. It's emptying your head onto a page. Cameron calls morning pages spiritual windshield wipers. They clear what blocks the view before the day begins.

The rules in four lines

1. Three pages. By hand, three letter-size pages. On a keyboard, roughly 750 words.
2. In the morning. Ideally before you pick up your phone and before the day pulls you in.
3. Without stopping. If nothing comes, write "I don't know what to write" until something else does.
4. Only for you. Nobody reads them. At first, not even you.

Where they come from

The Artist's Way is a twelve-week course for recovering creativity. Morning pages are its foundation, alongside a second tool: the weekly "artist date", an hour spent alone on something that interests you. Cameron wrote for creative people who felt stuck, but the method travelled much further. People write morning pages through burnout, before big decisions, in grief, or simply because they like starting the day in silence.

A similar technique already existed as freewriting, described by Peter Elbow in Writing Without Teachers (1973). The difference is that freewriting is usually a short writing exercise, while morning pages are a daily ritual with a set length and a set time.

How to write morning pages

Sit down as soon as you're up. Coffee is fine; messages and news can wait. Start anywhere: a dream, a sore back, a shopping list, irritation with someone at work. Write the way you think, at the speed you think. Leave the typos. Leave sentences unfinished. If your mind jumps, jump with it.

The first page is usually the easiest, because there's a lot of noise to get out. The second can feel dull, and that's a good sign: the noise has run out and something more interesting is underneath. Many people find the sentences that matter turn up halfway through the third page, exactly when they most want to stop.

On a keyboard, three pages is about 750 words and takes 15 to 30 minutes. By hand it's often 30 to 45. If that's too much to begin with, set a 10-minute timer and write until it rings. Showing up every day matters more than length.

By hand or on a computer?

Cameron recommends writing by hand: the slower pace keeps you present, and ink is harder to "fix". That's good advice if a notebook suits you. But a lot of people give up on morning pages precisely because their hand can't keep up, it hurts, or the notebooks pile up. In that case, typing beats not writing at all.

On a computer you just have to protect what a notebook gives you for free: no distractions and no editing. A normal text editor underlines mistakes, tempts you with formatting and pings you with notifications. That's why Out of My Head shows only the page: the menu disappears after your first word, spellcheck is off, and the only thing besides your text is a word count in the corner.

Should I reread them?

Cameron suggests not rereading your pages at all for the first eight weeks. The idea is to write without the inner censor who knows it will be read one day. After that, go through them with a highlighter: you'll usually spot recurring themes, things you've put off for months, and ideas that kept coming back on their own.

Morning pages vs. a journal

A journal records what happened, and it's often written with a future reader in mind, even if that reader is you. Morning pages don't describe the day. They capture what's in your head right now. They have no form, no topic, and they don't even have to be factually true. They can be repetitive and full of complaints. That's exactly why they work.

Common problems

"I don't have time in the morning"

Get up 20 minutes earlier, or start with 10 minutes on a timer. If mornings really are impossible, write in the evening. Strictly speaking they aren't morning pages any more, but the same head-emptying works before sleep too.

"I keep writing the same thing"

That's normal, not a mistake. A recurring theme is usually information: something needs your attention. You'll see it when you read eight weeks back.

"I'm afraid someone will read them"

With a notebook, a good hiding place helps. Online, choose a tool that encrypts your entries and doesn't read them. Out of My Head encrypts every page before it's stored, and the data stays in the European Union.

"I don't know how to start"

Borrow a first line. We collected gentle openings for mornings and evenings in morning pages prompts.

Start today

1. Decide where you'll write: a notebook, or one page in your browser that's always the same.
2. Pick a goal: 750 words, or 10 to 20 minutes.
3. Tomorrow morning, open the page before you open anything else.
4. Write until you reach the goal. Don't reread. Close it.
5. Keep it up for a week before you judge whether it's for you.

Used 750 Words before? Here's how Out of My Head compares.

The first page doesn't have to be good. It just has to exist. Open a blank page →