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Aiming to “hit the ground running” in January is a fool’s errand. Here’s how to return to your creative work gently, creatively and sustainably.
I used to approach the first week of January like a personal relaunch: new notebook, new intentions, a frighteningly optimistic to-do list; written while still half-running on festive sugar and the belief that a new year might magically make me more disciplined. I told myself this was the moment to start strong, to prove I was serious and focused. Yet by week 2 I’d be tired, irritable and quietly convinced I was already “failing” the year I’d barely begun.
It took me a long time to realise the problem wasn’t motivation or willpower. It was simply the story we tell ourselves about January: that it’s a clean break, a productivity proving ground, a month where momentum must be immediate and visible.
For creatives in particular, that story isn’t just unhelpful; it’s actively damaging.
A lie we tell ourselves
January feels intense because we collectively perform intensity. Social feeds fill up with resolutions and shiny declarations of what’s coming next. Behind the scenes, though, the working world moves far more slowly.
Clients ease back. Decision-makers return in stages. Budgets remain unresolved. Half the people you email won’t reply for days, sometimes weeks. And yet we act as if everything must be back at full volume by 2 January.
For creative work, which relies on sensitivity and mental space, this mismatch can be brutal. You’re expected to produce while your brain is still thawing. I once scheduled a full week of deep creative work starting on 3 January, assuming I could switch my thinking back on like a light. In the event, though, it felt more like trying to sprint after a long-haul flight: possible, unpleasant and unsustainable.
Why? Because when you think about it, January pressure isn’t real urgency. It’s a cultural hangover from productivity narratives that ignore how humans, or creativity, actually work.
The myth of the “clean slate”
The idea of January as a clean slate sounds inviting, but in practice, it often creates paralysis. When everything feels possible, every decision feels weighted. What should I focus on first? What if I choose wrong? What if this sets the tone for the entire year?
The truth is, though, you’re not starting from nothing. You’re carrying ideas, instincts and unfinished threads from last year. And so treating January as a total reset often means ignoring that momentum. Instead, I’d suggest you reframe it as a “continuation month”. The same story, just told more softly, while you find your footing again.
When people talk about “getting back into it”, there’s often an assumption that it requires discipline and dramatic routine changes: early alarms, perfect mornings, sudden focus. In my experience, though, that approach typically backfires.
What’s helped me far more is creating small, familiar rituals that ease me back into work without shock. In the first week, I deliberately shortened my days. I prioritise admin, light planning and low-stakes creative tasks. I stop working while I still have energy, because finishing the day intact matters more than pushing through exhaustion.
Some years, my re-entry ritual has been opening old notebooks, revisiting half-finished ideas, or doing creative work purely for enjoyment. These actions tell your nervous system that work isn’t an emergency and creativity isn’t under threat.
What to do in week 1
With all this in mind, I’d say the first week back after Christmas isn’t the moment for bold launches, sweeping reinventions or heavy decision-making. It’s a transitional space. This is the time to orient rather than execute, to observe rather than perform.
Practically speaking, that means clearing mental clutter, gently reviewing what’s ahead, and reconnecting with people without trying to prove your value. It’s also the moment to notice how your energy actually behaves, rather than how you think it should.
Tasks that require sustained creative intensity or long-term strategic thinking can almost always wait. Pushing them too early doesn’t make them happen faster; it just makes them heavier. Letting them sit often leads to clearer, calmer decisions later.
How to rebuild momentum
January has a talent for making even familiar work feel difficult. When that happens, the most important adjustment is scale. Instead of interrogating your motivation, focus on actions so small they’re almost impossible to resist.
Open the file. Write one sentence. Adjust one thing. These actions don’t require confidence or a clear vision. They simply keep you in a relationship with your work. Often, they lead to more, but even when they don’t, they still count.
I’ve had early days in January where the only thing I’ve done is set something up for tomorrow. That’s not failure. That’s continuity. Creative momentum is built through presence, not pressure.
What a “strong start” actually means
For a long time, I believed a strong January meant visible output and immediate progress. Nowadays, I think a strong start is reaching the end of the first week without feeling depleted. It’s rediscovering curiosity before ambition, and protecting your energy instead of spending it to look busy.
Some of my most productive creative years have begun with very little to show in January, but plenty of space to think, wander and reconnect with why I do this work at all. Other years, when I’ve forced momentum too early, I’ve spent the rest of winter recovering.
In conclusion, easing back into creative work after Christmas isn’t about lowering your standards. It’s about adjusting your timing. January doesn’t need your best work at full volume. It just needs you to arrive; gently, honestly, and without burning yourself out before the year has properly begun.
