If your junk drawer has become a slow-moving avalanche of packaging paper, envelope windows, tea bags, and scrapbook offcuts — and you're not quite sure what to do with any of it — this video is the beginning of an answer. It's the first episode in a scrap-busting series where I give myself 20 minutes to make something, anything, from whatever I grab out of my junk drawer. No plan, no purpose, no pressure to produce a finished journal or a pretty page. Just creativity, kept moving.
What we cover
I walk through a collection of pieces I've already made in this ongoing daily challenge — including a few favorites and at least one I'd describe as the ugliest thing I've produced — and then I do a live 20-minute session on camera, pulling from my junk drawer in real time and building a small collage piece from scratch.
What you'll learn
How to set up a daily or regular scrap-busting practice — the basic idea is simple: set a timer for 20 minutes, grab a handful of scraps without looking, and make something. The point isn't the result. It's keeping the creative habit alive between bigger projects.
What works as a base, including:
- Scrunched packing paper from online orders
- Envelopes (even ones that went wrong during stamping)
- Corrugated cardboard
- Leftover packaging with writing on the back
- Practically anything flat and large enough to build on
How to use materials that feel too small or too random to keep, including:
- Junk mail envelope windows (the cellophane-like panels — they photograph beautifully)
- Tea bag wrappers and tea bag "bags"
- Off-cuts from 12×12 scrapbook paper
- Leftover fused plastic from previous projects
- Punched circles and shapes left over from button-making or ink experiments
- Antique catalog pages, map pieces, and old tablecloth fabric scraps
- Ferrero Rocher wrappers (I tell my kids never to throw these away)
- Sticker sheet backing after all the stickers are gone
How to build a composition without overthinking it — lay everything down before gluing anything. Move pieces around, pull things out, add from a small desk box of "maybe" items. Only commit once you have a rough sense of where things want to go.
How stenciling, machine sewing, and hand stitching lift a piece — even when the base composition feels a bit flat, a pass of stenciling or a line of sewing on the machine can pull everything together. These are the techniques I reach for in the final few minutes when I want something to feel finished.
How to make functional-looking journal elements from pure scraps, including:
- Pockets from a small paper bag with the handle left visible
- A bookplate woven from vinyl off-cuts with hand and machine stitching
- Journaling spots from layered strips
- A whimsical house shape using twine, stickers, and a tea box scrap
Why dating each piece matters — I write the date on every one of these. Partly because it's interesting to track, partly because you genuinely see yourself loosening up over the sessions. The first one I made is also my least favorite. That's not a coincidence.
Tips & gotchas
Lay pieces down before you glue anything. This sounds obvious but it's the one thing that changes how a session feels — you get an overall read of the composition before you're committed to any of it, and it's much easier to pull something out or swap something in.
Stick to fewer pieces rather than more. I've found a small selection of scraps gives you more to work with creatively than a pile does. When there's too much on the base, nothing stands out. Start with three or four pieces, see where they take you, and add only if something is genuinely missing.
Set a timer and let it run. The 20-minute limit isn't just about efficiency — it stops you from dwelling. In the early sessions I kept running over, and what I noticed is that the extra time didn't usually improve anything. It mostly added second-guessing. Now I aim to finish at or before the bell, which leaves a few minutes for hand stitching or a final stencil pass if I want it.
Date everything. Even if the piece is the ugliest thing you've made that week. Especially then. Looking back at dated pieces is one of the most satisfying parts of this practice.
One small note on filming: I discovered that putting a camera on a session I'd been doing solo completely changed how it felt. The pressure to produce something good crept in immediately. If you're starting this kind of practice for yourself, I'd suggest doing a few sessions privately first before you share or document them. The "nobody is going to see this" feeling is actually part of what makes it work.
When you have a handful of sessions built up, keep them together. Seeing the whole collection laid out — ugly ones alongside the favorites — is where the real creative satisfaction lives. A single piece might not feel like much. Twelve pieces with dates on them start to look like something.
That's where this practice has been quietly heading: a body of work made from things that would otherwise have been thrown away, built in the gaps between bigger projects, twenty minutes at a time. If you've got a junk drawer full of "I'll use this someday" scraps, this is one way to actually use them — and to find out what your creative instincts do when there's no plan and no pressure to get it right.
