Do this to stop letting blank sketchbooks scare you

Sketchbook starting rituals

Blank sketchbooks are mass-produced consumer goods. Made in the millions in factories around the world. Finished sketchbooks are one-of-a-kind art pieces. The process of turning these products into art is the closest thing to magic I have ever experienced.

The blank book has so much potential that we fear it. I’ve stared at blank pages and let my brain talk me out of making anything. I bet you’ve stared and frozen, too.

A new and untouched book is perfect. No mistakes or failed drawings. You, an imaginative individual, can easily picture a blemished sketchbook full of botched pictures. That thought stops you from getting started.

It doesn’t have to be like that. You can and should keep a sketchbook—even if you can’t draw. 2025 can be the year you finally start keeping one.

Besides a book and pen, you need some rituals.

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There is a secret two-part formula for filling sketchbooks:

1. Start

2. Keep going

Today, I’ll talk about how rituals can help you start. Starting is hard, and you have to do it again and again because there are two kinds of starting in a sketchbook: starting the book and starting a page. Rituals help with both.

Next week’s post is about how to keep going. Subscribe to get that in your inbox.

EDIT: That post is out now

Sketchbook starting rituals

I use the inside front cover as my way into a sketchbook. My ritual is simple:

1. Write my name and contact details

2. Test any art materials I might use by making some small, no-pressure drawings.

Writing is drawing. And you know how to write.

You also (hopefully) know your name.

Every book I own starts with my name, but I suggest you write your name in your book. And have fun while you’re doing it.

You could write it like it’s on a pirate treasure map.

Or do some cheesy 80s chrome and put a drop shadow on it.

Or make bubble letters and fill them with patterns.

Drawing your name is a great place to start because it’s just writing. It tricks the brain into letting you start without worrying. Don’t forget to add your email or phone number so a lost book can return. I also like to add a start date.

With the book named and dated, the inside cover becomes a playground. I swatch watercolours or markers. I doodle nonsensical characters. I repeat people or objects from the previous sketchbook—that way, I don’t need to think of what I should draw. If swatches become weird shapes I turn them into something. All the drawings are small individual objects—way less pressure than drawing a whole scene.

This whole ritual is unserious and without any expectations. It breaks in the book—it’s no longer new or perfect. It’s mine. I have started.

Not everyone has the same ritual: some people like to scribble on a page to unperfect the book, and some start a few pages in to avoid that “first-page” pressure. But I like mine. It’s practical, easy, and gets the job done. I get to see what is possible on the paper and work out how materials interact with it. Sometimes, I come back to that page to test materials again.

The inside front cover is also a good place to make notes to myself—reminders of my philosophy. Giving yourself a pep talk, a goal, or a plan makes the rest of the book easier.

“Be BOLD. Not timid. They’re still makin’ them.”

Sometimes, I read a phrase I want to recall, and the inside front cover is a perfect place to write those quotes.

Find or create a staring ritual—having a repeatable kick-off lets you run on autopilot for the first few steps and stops you from talking yourself out of starting a book. Naysayers might say that repetition kills creativity, but they’re wrong. Rituals let me start; I can never finish if I don’t start.

Starting a new page

Eventually, I leave the safety of the inside front cover. Turning the page and starting another drawing is a recurring sketchbook moment; it calls for another ritual.

My ritual is simple: draw the closest thing in the scene. This breaks in the page, and it’s no longer perfect. All that’s left is to keep going. This method is not special and doesn’t follow “the rules”, but getting started quickly is important for me—to silence that lizard brain before it talks me out of things.

The sign was my way into this sketchbook page.

A clear, recurring starting point gives you a path to the page. It stops you from listening to the self-doubt creeping in like a herd of elephants. There are so many decisions in a drawing that pre-making some is necessary.

You can start a sketchbook today

Getting going is the hard part, but simple rituals make it possible. Strive to enjoy the process.

Starting a sketchbook is like launching a rocket; you don’t need much fuel once you're past escape velocity. A consistent ritual can fuel you to get liftoff, and then it’s just keeping going, which is the subject of next week’s newsletter.

For now, find a ritual and get busy drawing.

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Thanks so much for reading, and happy new year. If you’d like to draw together in 2025, I have some options for you:

Sketchbook club

💻📖✏️Paid subscribers get to join Sketchbook Club (and can watch the replays of earlier editions), a monthly online meetup where I share a new way to draw, and then we get busy filling our pages. The next session is on Sunday, January 25th.

Online course starts 22 January 2025—Bold lines, Clear colours.

edit: this course is over now, but I’m running it again later in the year.

💻🎨🖋️I’m teaching an in-depth course about how I draw in pen and watercolour. You’ll learn a practical, systematic approach that works even for the most complex scenes, get direct feedback from me on all your work, and have a heap of fun.