Writing without an agenda

On morning pages, 135 unpublished Substack drafts, and allowing myself to just see what comes out

It’s been a while since I wrote a newsletter with no agenda. One of those essays that I don’t quite know what I’m going to say when I start, but then something comes out the other end that just works.

This was the bones of this newsletter when I first started. My about page still says, “I write about whatever’s on my mind and let inspiration take precedence over “content strategy,” and while that still feels true, ‘whatever’s on my mind’ has been more structured as of late.

That’s not a bad thing. There’s a lot of writing that happens in my life, and most of it at this point requires an agenda. In the This Might Be Cringe world, I have my monthly Be Cringe series, my podcast (that requires writing outlines, pre-call notes, emails, shownotes, and promo copy for social media), and all of the other drafts and ideas for posts that I want to get out.

I started a neighborhood newsletter as well (as one apparently does these days in Brooklyn), I have my career-focused column, All of the Above (that may one day siphon itself from this space, we’ll see), and my three copywriting clients all require me to put words to the page with an agenda as well.

So with all of this writing (and all of the other non-writing parts of my life competing for attention), I haven’t had the capacity, time, brain space, or desire to just write and see what comes out.

I’ve long-embraced the tradition of morning journaling, or brain dumps, inspired by the morning pages in Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way¹. I’ve also long-understood that the way Cameron asks us to do them — first thing upon waking up — is not for me. I am not a morning person, and having a child has forced me to cosplay as one. We all wake up at 7, and often I will stay in bed until I can see or hear he’s awake. So having a task that would require me to wake up even earlier is not going to happen. I’ve tried, and I understand the ‘why’ behind it, but it currently doesn’t fit into my life. Maybe one day, I can return to following my own biological clock and grab a notebook to write in without anything needing my immediate attention upon waking up (except, of course, a trip to the bathroom).

I currently handwrite my morning pages, following the three-page advice Cameron gives, and never going past that. These handwritten pages serve as a way to clear the cobwebs in my head and to get out my truly unfiltered thoughts, even if I never look at them again.

But for a while, I staunchly opposed handwriting my morning pages. Writing by hand doesn’t physically feel great to me; my handwriting is not good, and I didn’t quite understand why handwriting was so much different than typing. So I would type them out, at some point every morning between sending my kid off to daycare and starting my own workday.

And that is how some of my favorite essays were born. A typed morning brain dump turned into something coherent, and before I know it, something I can mold into something publishable is born. A few examples:

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I’m realizing now that there’s something about sitting at a computer with no agenda that works with my own creative process. It feels like my subconscious understands what needs to be said before my conscious brain does, and I often keep going.

Handwriting my morning pages has a place, and it’s a welcome switch, but I didn’t realize that by making this switch I was forgoing a part of my process that also fueled me. They do different things, and so now I am returning to the practice of sitting at a keyboard and seeing what comes out, in addition to writing three pages to get out the gunk that I may never revisit again (and also I want to write about [insert topic here] and so I will write about [insert topic here]).

Writing with a thesis is great. It makes me a better writer and helps me stay focused. It makes it so that I can snag a clear title and let you all know what to expect before reading it. It leads to clicks, because people are ‘interested’ in the ‘thing’ I am talking about.

I am not without ideas. At the current moment, I have 135 (one hundred and thirty-five) unpublished drafts sitting in my Substack, ranging from essays that just need another read-through and light copy edits, to those that are bulleted outlines, to just a title, waiting for me to want to write.

I also have a note in my phone where, over the last three years, I’ve been capturing titles, thesis statements, and sometimes, full paragraphs that will, perhaps, maybe someday turn into something tangible.

I have a series of personal essays living on my laptop hard drive² that are a bit more memoir-adjacent, that talk about people or events in my life, and while Substack doesn’t quite feel like the place for them, I don’t know what is yet.

In getting back to the practice of writing whatever comes out, I also have to accept two things. One: I need to be okay with writing stuff and it not ever materializing into anything good. When these typed braindumps were my only form of stream-of-consciousness writing, the pressure was off. I know myself, and I need to give myself the permission to take that pressure off now.

And what’s funny is that even when I write without an agenda, I still have expectations of where I think my words will take me. This time around, I expected to share some personal updates, thoughts, musings, and whatever else came out. When I started writing, that was the agendaless agenda, but as I moved through it, I realized that’s not what this is about at all.

Instead, I bring you some words about writing, about where my ideas come from, and thoughts around how I’ll better connect to my craft, process, and creativity.

Perhaps next time I decide to write without an agenda, the updates and musings and thoughts will come out. But perhaps not.

I guess time will tell.

1. aren’t we all?

2. note to self: run a backup