Just begin (again)

What I've learnt from 400+ journal prompts.

Since 2019, I have hosted two month-long junk journal challenges: Junk Journal January and Junk Journal July. 31 daily prompts, one simple idea: show up each day and create in your art journal.

Junk Journal July 2021.

Each day presented a single word or phrase that acted as a kickstarter for making a page. It was designed as a way to beat the blank page fear and overcome the struggle of thinking, “I don’t know what to make.”

Every prompt was an idea to respond to, a material to pick up, a layout to use.

A path to follow.

Creating every day is hard

Daily prompts were the push I needed to keep creating, even if it was outside of my comfort zone. Especially if it was outside of my comfort zone.

Junk Journal January 2025.

While I’ve never been able to complete the coveted 100 Day Project, a month seemed just about manageable. I gave myself some guidelines to make following the prompts a little easier:

• Using a box or basket for my main supplies that I wanted to use helped to reduce decision fatigue. The junk mail envelopes and assorted papers were ready.

• Setting a timer to keep myself accountable and not get distracted. This could mean just 10 minutes or an episode of Vanderpump Rules.

• Not being afraid to try new techniques or layouts. After all, there’s always another page tomorrow.

• No buying new supplies. Junk journaling is about using what we have, and I didn’t want the pressure of needing the perfect supplies to start.

Repetition is necessary, limits are not

Showing up again and again and again allowed me to lean into one of my favourite ways to work, a no-sew junk journal. I construct them from paper scraps, patchworking them into pages of a concertina journal, all held together by my trusty Pritt Stick. They lie flat across my desk as I paste in bits from my days and anything related to the prompts.

Junk Journal July 2023.

Being able to work across multiple pages gave me flexibility and freedom to create, rather than being confined to one spread. Working with limited supplies or colours has its own merits, but when it came to the journal itself, I discovered that filling these accordion journals filled me with joy.

No stamp or sticker on a package is safe from me. Do not bend my journal.

I have become obsessed with rounding the corners of my journals. So chic.

No rain, no flowers, always stickers.

Now when I don’t know what journal to make, I return to the no-sew journal.

You will make bad art (and that’s okay)

Creating a new journal page every day for an entire month means the flops are guaranteed. I learnt to embrace them and use them as tools.

I hated the left-hand side of this page when I made it. The vision was a crisp contrast with a stencilled pattern. The result? A blobby mess.

I tried to dig deeper into why I thought it was bad, or ugly, or just wrong.

• Was it the type of paint I used or how I applied it?

• Was I feeling resistance to the contrast against the neutral tones?

• What would I do differently next time?

My prompt journals have evolved into reference books for my creative practice, filled with failed experiments and clever cover-ups and the occasional hidden gem (once I’ve stepped away from my desk to make a cup of tea and take a deep breath.) I often flick through them for inspiration and look at how far I’ve come.

In search of sustainable growth

Small actions add up — to 403 days of journaling prompts, to be precise.

A recurring theme in my art journals lately has been growth. I’ve scattered fussy-cut florals and found words across many a page, hoping they land in the right place.

“Bloom where you are planted,” I whisper to my ephemera.

Junk Journal January 2025. My response to the prompt ‘newspaper’. A textured collage with brittle newspaper-like book pages from 1915.

As I tend to the seeds I have sown this spring in the hope that they grow into my dream of a cottage garden, I’m reminded of how much growth is unseen. Looking back at my prompt journal pages, I can see the lessons I’ve learnt growing under the surface, like roots.

Holding space, if you will

I’ve decided to press pause on these challenges, which feels scary and necessary in equal measure. It’s a challenge that works, after all, not to mention the amazing community of creatives taking part each time.

To create, we must also choose what not to create. I pour so much into these challenges. I want to make space to nurture ideas that intrigue me, wander down new paths and create beyond junk journals, which have often felt safe and certain. I need to embrace uncertainty.

I can’t say goodbye to prompts forever, though.

Introducing Catalysts & Curiosities

I want to shift from creating in concentrated bursts to cultivating a slower, more sustainable and regular practice.

My aim with Catalysts & Curiosities is to offer fortnightly creative prompts that go beneath the surface. Ones that give you (and me) space to slow down and peek into all the nooks and crannies. An invitation to be mindful, introspective and take action in our creative practice, whatever form that may take. To notice, reflect, and make.

In each newsletter, I’ll dive into a theme related to creativity. At the end, you’ll have a three-part prompt to follow:

1. A snippet, quote or observation.

2. A material, technique or subject matter.

3. Colour palettes to consider.

You’re invited to take what’s useful, cut out what’s not, and stick it back together in your own magical way. Scribble notes, create one page, create multiple pages, collect inspiration, or simply take it all in. I’ll share how I’ve responded to the catalysts and curiosities in my own journals.

Subscribe for free to receive fortnightly prompts to ignite your creative practice.

I hope you’ll join me in following this new path, wherever it may lead.