
Image provided by author, used with permission.
By JaeSage (Trauma and grief specialist by day, creative polymath by night)
Let me introduce my creative self. I have a full, satisfying career that is at times high pressure, dazzlingly busy, and both emotionally and intellectually challenging. I work long days that would suck the life out of me if I didn’t love it so much. I belong there. However, a job like mine requires that caring for the self is paramount to being able to continue the work. To hold space for the trauma and grief of others, I must ensure my own internal reservoir is replenished.
My self-care mostly consists of nature walks, sipping lattes in crowded college coffee shops, writing novels, and painting landscapes. These activities are not merely hobbies; they are the essential counterweights to the weight of my professional life. They allow me to transition from the intensity of the clinic to the expansive freedom of the studio.
Jubilant ideas
Where do I start when the page is blank or the canvas is bare?
I have been frequently confused whenever folks tell me they struggle with searching for at least one idea of something to create. They share that they are so often stumped, paralyzed by the vast whiteness of an empty sheet. My purely ego-centric puzzlement stems from my lifelong practice of having a heavily loaded journal of places, faces, conversations, landscapes, cityscapes, and so much more just waiting to be mined and formed into the parts of a project.
For me, the journal is the ultimate safety net against creative block. My idea generation comes from sketches, word lists, written observations, and endless lists of character names and descriptions. I am constantly harvesting the world around me. When I am in those crowded coffee shops, I am not just drinking caffeine; I am recording the rhythm of a stranger’s gait or the specific shade of a winter sky. Often I have so many ideas in the journal that it’s like trying to pick an outfit for the day from a full walk-in closet. The challenge is never “what to make,” but rather “which of these many seeds shall I plant today?”
The Jumping Off Point
Getting started with a project, for me, is like peeling the ideas from the journal and laying out what seems like a jigsaw puzzle. It is an act of curation and assembly. I look at a sketch of a gnarled oak tree from three years ago and pair it with a sentence I wrote last week about the feeling of resilience. Suddenly, I have a theme.
The greatest joy for me is the intricacy of putting it all together in a way that makes sense. It is the puzzle-solving nature of art that keeps me engaged after a long, taxing day of work. A path through a meadow begins to form on the canvas, appearing brushstroke by brushstroke as I reference my written notes on light and shadow. A path taken by a person who wants to preserve life in a chaotic environment walks across the manuscript page, their voice echoing the character descriptions I’ve tucked away in my margins.
The joy comes from the process of completing the project and knowing the next project is already forming a shape within those well-worn pages. My journal is a bridge between my two worlds—the specialist who witnesses the human struggle and the polymath who finds beauty and order in it. This is the journey that my journaling of ideas takes me on. This is my place of fulfillment and peace.
By keeping these records, I am never truly alone in the creative process; I am always accompanied by my past observations. I hope, dear fellow creatives, that your idea generators, however they appear to you, help you bring forth projects that give you the fulfillment you seek. May your own “closets” be full of inspiration, and may you find the same peace in the joining of your dots.

Image Copyright 2026 by JaeSage, All Rights Reserved. Used with Permission.




