Reclaiming Boredom: How Doing Nothing Can Lead to Creative Sparks

I want to talk about something that might feel counterintuitive in the world we’re in right now. We live in a culture that rewards productivity, speed, visibility, and hustle. If you are not making something or showing something or selling something, it can start to feel like you are wasting time. As artists, we often feel the pressure to constantly be doing or posting or promoting. And if we are not, there’s this low hum of guilt running in the background, like we are falling behind while everyone else is getting ahead. But I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the value of boredom. Not creative block. Not burnout. Just good old-fashioned boredom. And what happens when we let ourselves sit with it instead of running from it.

When I was a kid, I was bored all the time. Summers especially. No camps. No iPads. No packed schedules. Just long stretches of time where nothing was really required of me. I remember staring at the ceiling fan. I remember lying in the grass for what felt like hours. I remember making up worlds and characters and drawing them out in spiral notebooks just because I had nothing else to do. That kind of boredom was a weird mix of annoying and magical (tbh I loved it). I always made something interesting out of it. And somewhere along the way, I stopped giving myself that kind of space.

Now, as a working artist and professor, my days are full. Even when I block out time for studio work, I feel the pressure to make that time efficient. Useful. Strategic. I tell myself I should be finishing a piece or prepping for a class or planning a post. And that leftover impulse from being “on” all the time? It keeps me from just sitting in the stillness that used to feed my ideas. The thing is... my best ideas never show up when I’m trying to force them. They never come through when I’m refreshing social media or clearing email. They sneak in when I let go. When I pause. When I do something mundane or when I do nothing at all.

Lately I’ve been experimenting with what that looks like. I’ll sit on my porch without a book or phone. I’ll take a walk without music. I’ll leave the dishes in the sink and just lean back in my chair and let myself drift. Not drift toward anything in particular. Just drift. And something strange started to happen. After the initial discomfort of not doing anything passed, my brain started to wander in a more creative way. Not in a “solve your to-do list” way but in a “what if I tried this in the studio” kind of way. It was small at first. Just a color combo I had not considered. Then an idea for a shape or layout. Then a phrase I wanted to write down. It was like the channel opened again.

I think there is something powerful in choosing to not fill every gap. We are used to filling the in-between. Podcasts in the car. Audiobooks while cleaning. Reels while waiting in line. And none of those things are bad. I use them too. But if we never let our minds settle... really settle... we miss out on the weird little connections that come from boredom. That quiet moment where you notice the way light hits something or how your hand moves when you sketch without thinking too hard. That is often where my best work starts. In the quiet. In the drift. In the nothing.

So how do you start to bring more of that in? Here’s what I’ve been doing lately. You do not need to make this complicated. This is about subtraction, not addition. I started by finding one pocket of time each day where I usually would reach for my phone and I didn’t. That was it. I sat with that space instead. Sometimes it was uncomfortable. Sometimes it was boring. But eventually that space started to shift. I started to look out the window more. Started to let my eyes rest. Started to just breathe and let my thoughts run loose. And from that came some of my freshest ideas in months. Not because I was trying to be productive. But because I gave my mind room to play.

Another thing that helped was setting a short timer for ten or fifteen minutes and just sitting. No phone. No notebook. Just sitting. Not meditating. Not trying to clear my mind. Just being still. It’s weird how long ten minutes feels when you are not doing anything. But after a while, I started to enjoy it. It gave me a break from reacting to everything around me. It gave me time to check in with what I actually wanted to make or think about instead of just responding to what was in front of me.

I also started leaving open-ended time in my schedule. I know that sounds like a luxury, and sometimes it is, but even just blocking off one hour a week as “boredom time” gave me something to protect. I guard that time now. I do not let it become errand time. I do not let it turn into catch-up time. I let it be whatever it wants to be. Sometimes that means just lying on the floor and staring at the ceiling like I did when I was a kid. Sometimes it means going for a slow walk without any direction. Sometimes I just sit at my work table and push around scraps of paper until something clicks. But I do not expect anything from it. I just let it happen.

There is so much pressure in creative work to be efficient. To make the most of your time. To produce. And I get it. We live in a world where time feels like a resource we cannot waste. But I also think some of the best creative thinking happens when we are not trying so hard to have the answer. When we let ourselves stop. When we let the space breathe a little.

If you are feeling stuck or uninspired or burnt out, I’d challenge you to try this. Not with the goal of fixing your block, but just to see what happens when you let your mind be quiet. What happens when you stop trying to fill the silence. What shows up in the gaps when you stop chasing output.

Let yourself be bored. Really bored. Resist the urge to scroll. Resist the need to fix or produce or check something off. Let your mind wander and see where it goes. If nothing comes up, that’s fine. If a few weird thoughts float through, write them down. Not because you are trying to capture anything brilliant. Just because something caught your attention. You are not doing this to be efficient. You are doing this to make room for something unexpected.

One thing I’ve started doing is keeping a small notepad nearby, but not in my hand. I do not sit down with the intention to write. But if something pops into my head while I’m in that boredom zone, I’ll jot it down. Later, I’ll come back to that list and notice things I would have missed if I had kept going full speed. That’s the thing with boredom. It lets things surface. Not in a dramatic way. But in a slow, quiet way that builds over time.

You do not need a five-step system. You just need a bit of quiet. A bit of time. And permission to stop filling every second. You already know how to do this. You did it when you were a kid. You just need to remember what it feels like to let go of the need to do and give yourself space to just be. That’s where the creative sparks live... not in the hustle but in the stillness that comes when you stop trying to force them.

So if you are feeling creatively tired or just overstimulated, give boredom a try. Schedule nothing. Sit with it. Let it stretch out. Let yourself wander a bit. You may be surprised what starts to show up once you stop looking for it.

And if you try this out, I’d love to hear what happens. What did you notice? What ideas came to the surface? What felt uncomfortable or surprising? This practice is not flashy. It’s not something you can really show off. But I’ve found it to be one of the most useful tools for getting back to the heart of my work.

Let the quiet in. Let the boredom take up space. You may just find a new direction waiting there.