Holding a stack of journaling inserts in my art studio. The top one is rumpled.

Intentional Inconsistency

Holding 3 years of motherhood journals.

The very idea that inconsistency is something to practice may fly in the face of everything you’ve ever heard.

It’s certainly the antithesis of what Julia Cameron prescribes in her book The Artist’s Way.*

*I actually love this book, but her specific creative process hasn’t been a good fit for me since my kid was born.

UK edition of The Artist's Way by Julia Cameron surrounded by blue art supplies: paints, pencils, pastels, thread and and brushes.

During my autism evaluation the psychologist noted that I was an “all in” person. I was drowning in commitments and my evaluator suggested I try practicing inconsistency. I was completely blind to having that choice.

My brain only sees “do” or “do not.” (I would be an excellent Jedi Master.)

Yoda jedi master

Its been a very long and slow process to begin shifting this.

That’s why I call it a practice. I mean that in the same way someone has a yoga practice or a gratitude practice. Inconsistency is something I’m actively working to cultivate in my daily life.

Photograph of dictionary definition of practice: actual performance or application of knowledge, repeated or customary action, usage, habit

Because of this tendency I avoid “don’t break the chain” mindset like the plague. I’ve fallen under its spell many times and its pretty ugly. I could chain 300 days and if I miss a day its all over for me.

That broken chain feels worse than starting from zero.

My best defense is to embrace inconsistency. To invite it in.

When I was journaling as a new mum I was often faced with the option to sleep or to write. And, in my maternal wisdom, I knew that Julia was wrong.

Art is important, but sleep is number one.

Here I am three years later.

I’m celebrating 916 journal pages during the first three years of motherhood. (189 of those were using a simple daily check in you can download here.)

I broke the chain many times.

I chose sleep, and baths, and yes sometimes even Stranger Things.

And I don’t regret it.

Because I was intentionally inconsistent this isn’t a failure. It’s a win. It’s me taking care of myself and my creative ecosystem.

Those 673 pages would not exist without taking this approach. (The same goes for writing my books by the way. That process was also wildly inconsistent.)

So here I am with a fist full of journal inserts (it is pretty satisfying they all match, isn’t it?)

Holding a handful of journal inserts over a seafoam bedspread. The top one is wrinkled and slightly chewed.

…one of which was nibbled by my child when they were in the human goat phase. 😂

Black and white photo of an infant chewing on my journal entry. I think this was a month or two before they started walking so almost a toddler, but not quite.

This taste for paper is part of why I found journaling time hard to come by. I’m writing more these days, but I still want to hold this practice with a loose grip.

How do you feel about consistency? Love it or hate it?

Ok, it sounds like my child has waken up grumpy from their nap so my quiet time is all used up.

Until next time,

Sarah signed with a swoopy S

P.S. If you resonated this blog post you may enjoy the ramble podcast I recorded on the same topic.

Originally published to Substack on Jun 17, 2022.