The lunar eclipse (which is to say, the full moon) arrives at 12* Virgo at 6:37am Eastern on Tuesday, March 3rd.
Opposite both Mercury Rx (this lunation’s ruler) and Venus in Pisces, and sextiling Jupiter in Cancer, this moon has all the markings of a creative breakthrough. Of climax, of release, of that oh, finally feeling.
But as we considered in the last eclipse missive, breakthroughs only come after a sufficient amount of pressure has been applied — the pressure of frustration, of tension, of everything that has not worked.
I have spent years listening to my students, readers, and clients tell me what isn’t working for them creatively. And these years of listening and witnessing all of you have brought me to the simplest thesis possible, which is that
Creativity is a relationship.
This is the singular, central belief that guides my work. Projects come and go, but our relationship with Creativity is lifelong, and will exceed the bounds of whatever book, album, screenplay, or comic we’re writing in this moment. It’s something that’s easy to forget as we get older, that Creativity is not something to be “good” at, but rather that it is a way of life: a way of being, of looking at the world.
To be creative is to be messy. To be in love with the draft instead of the product; the journey versus the destination. Creativity embraces missed first steps and accidental falls as information, as a learning opportunity, because Creativity doesn’t disappear if we aren’t perfect.

Folks often tell me they wish they had more time to write. There’s always a veritable iceberg underneath that sentence: the resentment of caregiving obligations, the exhaustion from the 9-5, the burnout from a difficult period in life, the grief for an imagined version of themselves that was “further along,” the worry that they’ve somehow missed the boat, the anxiety at feeling the gap between their ability and their taste. Any of these; none of these.
What listening to hundreds and hundreds of students and clients has taught me that underneath the desire for a creative routine — the ostensible “doing” of the art with an aim toward a finished product — is a longing for creative expression. There is the intuitive knowledge that Creativity is one of the most vital things that makes life worth living: the ability to express oneself through play, through movement, through language, through food, through style. Creativity can wake us up and spiritually enliven us amidst the drudgery of the painfully mundane.
This is to say: a disciplined creative routine isn’t what most people are actually looking for.
Rather, they are seeking a reunion with their relationship to Creativity itself. They are seeking creative devotion.
Writers and artists often come to me looking for a creative routine based on their birth chart, as if I was a doctor identifying an illness and offering a prescription. But the soul’s ache for creative living is not something anyone outside of you can solve. I am not a doctor, and I cannot prescribe a cure for something that is existential and relational in nature. I can only point you back in the direction of right relationship, reminding you that Creativity is right where you left her, and she might not be that interested in the project you’ve been meaning to write for a decade, and that that is okay because there will be something else. That’s the good news when we engage with Creativity: there is always something new to be discovered or returned to.
This eclipse, ask yourself:
What would it look like to release a specific project and expectations toward disciplined, factory-like production and move instead in the direction of your curiosity and “unproductive” joy?
Mary Oliver once wrote that “attention is the beginning of devotion.” And this is the remedy, the cure, the first step for those who want more Creativity in their life: to pay attention. Not to work; not to produce. To welcome art, joy, and beauty into your life intentionally. To invest time and energy in those things that make life worth living, rather than treating them as an afterthought. Are you a writer who has not read in months? Pick up a book this week. Are you a songwriter who hasn’t listened to new music in a year? Listen. Pay attention. And see what comes to you in the silence.
This eclipse season, we are not pursuing discipline. We are pursuing devotion. That re-frame makes a difference — the kind that finally allows for a breakthrough.
Writing Prompts for the Lunar Eclipse in Virgo
What does “devotion” mean to you? How is it different from “discipline” or “routine”?
Consider everything you’ve tried in the pursuit of “writing more.” What has actually worked for you, and what hasn’t? If the truth is that you actually need more input, more rest, more time for contemplation and reflection rather than brute forcing your way into a new essay, lay down the frustration or shame. Consider how being realistic with yourself and your own expectations is, actually, the greatest gift you can give yourself.
Thank you for reading Astrology for Writers. These Times are hard and attention spans are low, and I don’t take it for granted that you invite me into your inbox.