Your Creative Rituals is a six-week creative practice, made for anyone who loves making things but struggles to find the time. The idea is simple: fifteen minutes a day on a project you love, a short weekly lesson, and good company along the way. No deadlines, nothing to finish, and nothing to fall behind on.
It’s something I’ve been shaping for a long time. I ran a small, early version a couple of years ago, learned an enormous amount from that first group, and have spent the time since making it richer and warmer. So it’s rather a joy to finally open the doors properly.
This post gives you a closer look at what we’ll be doing, for the kind of maker who likes to see the whole shape of a thing before saying yes. Whether you’ve been following along or you’ve just stumbled across it, here’s how the six weeks unfold, week by week. They build gently, each leaning on the one before, and they end somewhere I didn’t expect when I first put the course together: at a quieter, steadier sense of yourself as a creative person.
Week zero: Before we begin: getting ready
A gentle place to land before the first proper lesson. There are a few things to gather, nothing you need to go out and buy: a project you’re drawn to, and something to write in. Mostly it’s about arriving without pressure. There’s nothing to finish here, no test at the end, and no way to fall behind. Just a little space, made on purpose, for you and your making.
Week one: a tiny creative habit
This is the foundation the whole course rests on, and it’s smaller than you might expect. A tiny creative habit: fifteen minutes on most days, and the little ritual you wrap around it to make it feel like yours.
I’ll tell you the story of how I found my way here, out of years of over-ambitious plans that never quite survived past February. What changed everything wasn’t more discipline. It was doing less, on purpose, and letting it add up. By the end of the week you’ll have chosen your project, found your fifteen minutes, and thought about the small ritual that tells you creative time has begun. Lighting a candle, making the tea, whatever feels right.
Week two: where inspiration comes from
A lovely question, and one I never tire of: where does inspiration actually come from?
I’ve noticed how often knitters tell me they’re “not creative,” that they just follow a pattern. I don’t believe it for a moment, and this week is partly my case for the defence. Creativity isn’t only the grand, capital-A Art moments. It’s in setting a table, tending a garden, choosing a colour that makes your heart lift. We also look back to look forward: to the things you loved making as a child, before anyone told you whether you were good at them. There are often clues there worth following.
Week three: quieting the mean voice
This is the tender one. We turn to the inner critic: the voice that says you’re not talented enough, not creative enough, that your work isn’t good enough to bother finishing. Almost every maker I know has one, and it tends to get loudest exactly when we’re trying something new. Mine certainly does.
I share what I’ve learned about making peace with it. Not silencing it, which rarely works, but turning the volume down, making a little space for the fear, and speaking to yourself the way you would to a dear friend. Perfectionism gets a look in too, since it’s so often the same fear wearing a more respectable coat.
Week four: finding your own voice
If week three is about quieting the voice that holds you back, week four is about listening for a different one: your own.
Your creative voice is the thread of you that runs through everything you make, whether you’ve noticed it or not. The colours you drift toward. The textures your hands reach for. The choices you make without quite knowing why. We go looking for it, not to invent a style from scratch, but to recognise the one you already have. I’ll even brave defining my own, rather uncertainly, so you’ll have good company if it feels hard.
Week five: deepening the practice
By now the fifteen minutes has started to become part of your days. This week is about making that time feel not just consistent, but rich.
We talk about the little novelties that wake up your eye: small creative adventures that keep the practice fresh. And we talk about one of my favourite ideas: using the good china. Not saving your best for a someday that never comes, but bringing a little beauty and intention into an ordinary Tuesday, because an ordinary Tuesday is where most of life actually happens.
Week six: finishing, and marking it
We end with something that sounds simple and rarely is: finishing. Starting a project is all novelty and excitement. Finishing can feel like wading through treacle, and I’ll tell you a little about why that happens, because it turns out it genuinely isn’t just you.
But finishing has quiet gifts in it. A completed piece clears the mental clutter of a lingering WIP, it teaches you something about your own taste, and it deserves to be marked rather than rushed past on the way to the next shiny thing. So we look at small ceremonies of completion: gentle ways to honour what you made and how far you’ve come. And however your six weeks have gone, whether you found your fifteen minutes every day or only now and then, you’ll have shown up for your own creativity. That matters more than any finished object.
Where it all leads
Read down the list and you’ll see the shape of it. Make a little space. Find where the spark comes from. Quiet what blocks it. Recognise what’s already yours. Deepen it. Finish, and mark it.
It looks like a course about making more. And it is, a little. But the real thread running through all six weeks is quieter than that. It’s about coming to recognise yourself in the things you make, and trusting your own eye a little more than you did six weeks before. Making things is the doorway. What’s on the other side of it is you.
We begin together on the 1st of September. I’d love to have you with us.
Take a closer look at Your Creative Rituals
Answers to a few questions you might have
Who is this course for?
Anyone who already loves making things. Knitting is the world I know best, so it’s the one I draw on most, but crochet, embroidery, quilting, spinning, sewing, painting, writing, whatever passes through your hands belongs here just as much. It’s for you if creativity matters to you but keeps getting crowded out. It’s for you if you already make most days and simply want to do it with a little more intention and company. And it’s especially for you if some small part of you suspects you’re “not really creative.” I’d gently disagree.
How much time do I need?
The daily practice is fifteen minutes on your chosen project, most days. That’s the whole commitment. The weekly audio lesson is around twenty minutes, with a transcript if you’d rather read, and the optional exercises fit into small pockets of time as and when you fancy them. More is lovely if you have it. Less is completely fine.
Is there a live component?
Yes, and it’s new this time. Three live gatherings mark the six weeks: an Opening Ritual as we begin, a check-in roughly halfway through, and a Closing Ritual to finish together. They’re held live and unrecorded, on purpose, so they stay relaxed and real, with no pressure to perform. All three are at the same time (morning in Australia, which falls on the evening before across the northern hemisphere), so do check your local time on the sales page before you join. Come to all three, drop into whichever you can, or simply know they’re happening. The calls are a lovely part of the season, but only one part: everything you need is in the weekly lessons, and you’ll never fall behind for missing one.
Do I need to keep up with everyone else?
No. We begin together on the same day, and the calls happen on real dates, which is part of what makes it feel like a shared season. But the daily making is entirely your own. Listen to each lesson when it suits you. Give your fifteen minutes whenever they appear, or miss a few days and pick it up again with no ceremony. There’s nothing to fall behind on, because the only thing asked of you is to keep gently coming back.
What do I need to get started?
A project you want to work on, and a way to take a few notes. That’s genuinely all. If you’d like to treat yourself, a candle, a lovely journal and a pen you enjoy writing with might make the daily ritual sweeter, but they’re a pleasure, not a requirement. I talk more about gathering your things in the very first lesson.
What does it cost?
£59, a single one-off payment for the whole six weeks: the weekly lessons, the three live gatherings, and the community space. Depending on where you are in the world, you may see the equivalent in your own currency at checkout.
What happens after the six weeks?
The live season, with its weekly lessons and three gatherings, runs for six weeks. After our Closing Ritual, the season winds down, but your lessons stay yours to revisit. What changes is the pace: the active, together part belongs to the six weeks, and afterwards you carry the practice on in your own time.
Everything’s ready and waiting when you are: six weeks of small, gentle making, a little good company, and a bit of claimed time that turns out to be yours.
Our official start date is August 29th, but the Creative Rituals community space is already open and quietly buzzing. Lovely people are drifting in, introducing themselves, and getting to know one another ahead of our Opening Ritual on the 1st of September. It’s a warm little corner already, and there’s a place in it for you.
I’d love to have you along.
