Rewire how you create & innovate
📅 August 15, 2026 · 4:00 PM EST · 75 minutes · $57 (Free for paid members)
You know this though, this feeling. The thing you’ve been circling for weeks, the essay, the post, the pitch, the small ugly first draft of whatever it is, sitting open in a tab you haven’t closed because closing it would mean admitting you’re not going to finish it today either. You tell yourself you’re waiting to feel ready.
I want to tell you gently: the ready feeling is not coming.
I found this out in a parking lot before a shift, twenty minutes at a time, writing things I didn’t believe were any good, in a notebook I only brought because I didn’t know what else to do with my hands. Nobody was watching. That’s not why it worked. It worked because it was small enough that the fear didn’t have time to organize itself before I’d already made the thing.
That’s what these 75 minutes are for. Not understanding your creative block. You already understand it better than any framework could explain it back to you. This is for making something inside it. On a timer. In a small room, live, with a handful of other people who are just as unsure as you are whether what they’re about to write is any good.
Here’s what actually happens in that room. You’ll get a napkin, or the closest thing to one, kept deliberately small, because that’s the whole trick. Ten minutes, timer visible, no crossing out. You’ll feel the specific panic of a blank inch of paper and a stranger’s face in a little square next to yours.
Then your pen moves anyway, because everyone else’s is moving too, and the sound of that, even just the felt sense of it over Zoom, does something willpower alone never manages. Somewhere around minute six, your hand stops waiting for permission and just writes the true, unpolished thing.
Then, if you want to, you read it out loud. Your voice will do the thing voices do the first time, go a little thin, catch on the word you didn’t expect to catch on. Nobody claps or critiques. Someone just says “thank you,” and you feel your shoulders drop half an inch, and you realize the fear of being seen making something badly was bigger than actually being seen making something badly.
What you’ll walk away with:
A real, finished thing that didn’t exist an hour before, made live and on the clock, and yours to keep.
The Napkin Practice: a ten-minute ritual you can repeat tomorrow, and the day after, with nothing but a scrap of paper and a timer.
This isn’t a new idea I built for August. It’s the twin practice to Future Scripting, the method I’ve run in more than 25 live workshops with people across several continents. I reach for it when the block isn’t about clarity, because you usually already know what you want to make. It’s about permission. The fix isn’t more insight. It’s repetition, small enough and fast enough that fear can’t keep pace with it.
A few things you might be turning over before you commit.
If it’s “I’m not really creative,” neither was I, by most definitions people hand out. This isn’t a craft workshop. Nobody’s grading the sentence. You’re not here to be good. The point is to make the small thing and survive it.
Maybe it’s “I don’t want to share something unfinished.” You don’t have to read anything aloud. Some of the most useful ninety seconds of this session happen in complete silence, alone with your own napkin. The room is there if you want it, not a stage you’re forced onto.
If it’s a time thing, it’s ten focused minutes of actual making, twice, inside a 75-minute room. Less time than you’ve already spent this week avoiding the thing.
And if you want a masterclass in craft, this isn’t that. It’s for the person who’s been sitting on something for weeks, and needs a permission smaller than the fear.
Paid Courage to Create members join free. It’s already yours, so just show up. Not a member yet, or want to join for this one session on its own?
Bring a pen, something small to write on, and whatever you’ve been avoiding making. Coffee or tea optional but encouraged.
FAQ:
Do I need writing experience? No. This is a writing practice, not a writing performance. Spelling doesn’t count. It’s just you, on the page, telling the truth you’ve been avoiding.
How is this different from journaling? Future Scripting writes the future in enough concrete detail that your brain starts treating it as a memory worth navigating toward. Different direction. Different result.
I’ve tried a lot of things. Why would this work? Because everything else you’ve tried has been about finding the right answer on the outside. This is about removing the excuse on the inside. Different problem. Right tool.
Will there be a replay? Yes, replay + a workbook arrives in your inbox within 24 hours of the workshop.
Paid Members receive monthly workshops for free and full access to the Academy.
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