Inspiration doesn’t always strike on a schedule—but deadlines and distractions arise at any time. In an industry driven by both creativity and productivity, the elusive “perfect writing routine” can provide much-needed consistency.
Naturally, many screenwriters identify as night owls, including me. In fact, there’s little worse than people who rabbit on about how much better the morning is, particularly because they always do it in a way that makes them seem superior. Honestly, I want to slap them.
However, even if you’re naturally a night person, it’s worth giving a morning writing routine a shot because you never know when it will unlock new levels of focus, clarity, and imagination.
Here’s a practical, honest guide to building a morning writing routine for screenwriters.
The solitude of midnight writing sessions is unparalleled. It’s no secret that many writers find their voice once the rest of the world has gone to sleep. But there’s a compelling case for making the switch—or at least experimenting with early hours.
There’s a unique cognitive window in the first hour after waking, when your brain is still transitioning out of sleep. This is known as the “hypnopompic” state—a blend of dreaming logic and waking consciousness. During this phase:
For screenwriters, this is when you’re most likely to come up with bizarre plot twists, unexpected metaphors, and fresh perspectives—before the analytical brain starts vetoing your instincts.
Everyone’s idea of “early” is different, but whatever clock hour you choose, make sure that it offers fewer external distractions: no emails, no texts, no meetings. Just you and the page.
Here’s the paradox: you can’t have a productive morning without preparing for it the night before.
Most “morning routine” advice skips this, but it’s essential—especially if you’re transitioning from being a night person.
Remember, a solid morning begins with a wise night.
Once you’re up and semi-awake, don’t dive into your feature script right away. That’s like starting a race without stretching. Instead, prime the pump.
Keep a notebook next to your bed. The second you wake, jot down anything—images, snippets of dialogue, feelings, shapes. Even a single sentence can become a spark.
Why this works:
A strange dream can become:
Not that there’s any need to use your dreams as writing fuel, but it’s a useful exercise just to get the hand moving and to clear the mind of whatever gunk built up there overnight.
Or perhaps your morning routines use…
In The Artist’s Way, Julia Cameron recommends writing three longhand pages of stream-of-consciousness thought every morning. No editing. No judgment. Just pure flow.
You might write:
These pages flush out static and reveal subconscious priorities.
For screenwriters, they can also surface hidden story instincts. Maybe your character is anxious because you are. Maybe your structure’s off because your thoughts feel scattered. Morning pages illuminate these hidden feelings.
Decision fatigue is a thing—in particular, a thing that kills your morning writing sessions.
There’s nothing worse than waking up early, making coffee, sitting at your desk… and realizing you need to figure out what you’re writing. Your creative brain is groggy. Your to-do list is unclear. You open eBay.
Writing session over.
The way around this is to write, soon before bed:
This allows your early-morning self to move straight into writing, bypassing hesitation.
You could even try the old Ernest Hemingway trick of always finishing your writing mid-sentence so you have a definite point of entry for the next day.
Over time, your brain starts associating mornings with momentum. You develop muscle memory. Sit. Open file. Write.
Some mornings, your brain will be foggy or resistant. Instead of doom-scrolling or giving up, have a fallback activity that’s structured, valuable, and not dependent on the muse.
These tasks require less emotional involvement yet still sharpen your instincts and craft. Think of it as “creative maintenance.” You’re staying in shape, even if you’re not producing new material.
Even 15–20 minutes of this kind of work keeps you connected to your screenwriting practice. And often, doing this unlocks inspiration for your own writing later in the day.
Realistic, flexible morning routines don’t need to be complicated:
Night Before:
Morning:
Even 30–45 minutes like this, done consistently, can lead to:
Now, don’t treat this as shaming. If you’re like me, your eyes probably glazed over at the 10am in-bed. To hell with morning routines; I’m not a nun!
So let’s be brutally honest–if you’re an asshole like me, you’re going to bed at 12 or 12:30 and getting up for an 8am writer’s hour so you can shift all of this back to a time that works for you.
Maybe one day I’ll do better, but one can always hope!
Writing in the morning doesn’t mean you’re a monk. Or a preachy douchebag.
However, if you’re serious about your screenwriting—and especially if your day is filled with work, family, or other responsibilities—early mornings might be your best (or only) shot at sustainable creativity.
The real gift of a morning routine isn’t discipline. It’s margin.
To wit: you need mental space before the noise floods in. A space where you’re still close to dreams, yet ready to shape them. Where you have a rhythm that is intentional, not reactive.
Give your stories the morning they deserve.
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