Josey Rose Duncan

The Write Site

Tag Archives: marketing

Morning routine

green smoothie

I drink a green smoothie for breakfast almost every morning. My second-brain appreciates its first food of the day in this form, and I’m also like, really into healthy eating trends.

I always blend a banana and plenty of kale, but other ingredients depend on what I’ve got in my kitchen. Frozen mango is another go-to. Sometimes I use coconut water instead of almond milk (note: helps with a hangover), sometimes peanut or almond butter instead of sunflower. When I feel like an extra helping of probiotics I toss in a couple spoonfuls of Greek yogurt. If I’m feeling extra crazy, I add a chopped date or two.

This breakfast is my morning ritual, the (cold, delicious) activity that tells my brain it’s time to wake up, for real.

For the first time in my life, I (almost) always work from home. Sometimes my hours are strange. I’m a natural night-owl. But I crave sunshine, the peace of chilly streets at dawn.

I started my current freelance business 10 months ago. After an uncomfortable year, being in my apartment most of the time was, at first, exactly what I needed. But then I realized I hadn’t left my apartment in like, three days. Ok, four. There’s only so many errands I can concoct to force myself from self-imposed seclusion. That I’m trying to use freetime to do my own writing projects doesn’t help.

So I signed up for yoga—and I’m gonna go like, all the time. Like five days a week all the time.

Haters (you know who you are—jk jk, kinda) point out that while yoga will make me “feel great,” it isn’t a “real” workout. But I’m not sure I agree—and also, that’s not really my purpose.

For a half-Jewish white lady from a small hippie town who now lives in San Francisco, drinks a kale smoothie every morning, and washes my face with coconut oil (antibacterial, hellllloooo) I’ve taken surprisingly few yoga classes. (Although I have written before about yoga.)

I’m no natural athlete—far, far, from it—but I used to hit the gym every morning, waking in the dark to complain about being tired, (assistedly) dip, squat, lift, and ellipt. I also endured a brief running phase where I jogged along the water every evening after work.

My goal during my gym rat days was to look thin and toned; today, it’s to feel strong (Also I want to learn how to handstand so I can take handstand-selfies in front of epic nature scenes.)

I predict/hope my new yoga-centric morning routine will help me become a better writer, a better freelancer—maybe even a better person overall?—but I’ll let you all be the judge of that.

What’s your morning routine? Has it changed through the years?

My green smoothie recipe:

One frozen banana (broken into small pieces)

Several handfuls chopped kale (also frozen)

Tablespoon chia seeds

Heaping spoonful sunflower butter

Organic almond milk (enough)


—Josey Rose Duncan

85,000 reasons


“That’s one of the great things about music. You can sing a song to 85,000 people and they’ll sing it back for 85,000 different reasons.”
—Dave Grohl


You can show a drawing to 85,000 and they’ll think about 85,000 different things. You can dance for 85,000 and they’ll feel 85,000 different emotions. You can cook pancakes for 85,000 people (ok this one doesn’t work as well since you can’t also do it literally. Not like, easily, anyways) and they’ll remember 85,000 different chilly mornings in 85,000 different kitchens where 85,000 people flipped pancakes for them driven by 85,000 of their own unique motivations, their own chilly-kitchen-memories.

You can recite a poem to 85,000 people and they’ll see 85,000 different scenes in their mind. You can share a story with 85,000 and they’ll have 85,000 reasons why they love it or they hate it; 85,000 different ways they connect (or don’t) with the protagonist.

Everyone’s process is different. But when I write for myself I often arrive at the page with no expectations, or only an abstract set of emotions, colors, and sounds I want to express. I decipher the (real) meaning only after—and learn this often, at least in part, from anyone I’m able to trick into reading my stuff.

When I write for work I have specific intentions; specific goals I want my writing to accomplish, driven by what my clients want to accomplish. Maybe I want my articles to teach people things; maybe I hope audiences will think deeply, laugh, or get misty-eyed at my copy. Maybe I want to make people feel a certain way about a brand, product, or idea. Or maybe there’s an action I hope they’ll make after reading a blog post or tweet.

That doesn’t mean people don’t experience this writing differently. That doesn’t mean it’s not conjuring a plethora of varied feelings and thoughts and emotions and impulses and ideas for a multitude of different people. Who come from different places and love different things. Who live totally different kinds of lives.

But so what? So we see creative stuff differently, so we experience and interpret art and ads and poems and pancakes differently based on our pasts; based on the grooves snaking through our different brains and the metaphorical blood beating through our symbolic hears—how can I, the creator of said-ads and poems and pancakes use this understanding to make something better and more resonant?

Being aware opens doors. When you think in terms of layers and symbols and double-meaning and depth—whether you’re writing your memoir or ad copy for cat food—you find ways to allow all of this into your work, find ways of cracking your skull open (figuratively!!) and letting the light shine down on that big, beautiful brain of yours in ways it never has before.

From 85,000 different angles.


—Josey Rose Duncan