“Tell me what you pay attention to, and I will tell you who you are. ”
When Our Imaginations Turn Against Us
We writers are really good at telling stories. Problem is, we tell a lot of stories to ourselves about ourselves that simply aren’t true.
I’m invisible, I’ll never write this book, I’m lazy, I’m creatively blocked, etcetera: These are all fiction, but we’ve somehow convinced ourselves that these limiting beliefs are fact—non-fiction.
In order to turn our limiting beliefs into invitations for skillful inquiry - and a nice dose of reality - we need to change the genre of our thoughts from fiction to non-fiction.
How To Change The Genre of Your Thoughts
Step One: Identify the stories you tell yourself (“I’m invisible, I’ll never be published, I’m not a good writer, I procrastinate all the time, etc.”)
Step Two: Separate the story threads—you likely have lots of thoughts that surround scarcity, other thoughts surrounding perfectionism, etc.
Step Three: Put each grouping of thoughts under an umbrella label (or, an anthology, if you will) - keep it playful! It’s more fun that way and this mindfulness habit has a better chance of sticking if you keep it light and easy. All stories you tell yourself about being a procrastinator? Give them a story name. “This is my Couch Potato Story.” All stories about being a perfectionist? “This is my gold star story.”
Step Four: Whenever you notice the thoughts under any particular story umbrella come into your mind, label them. For example, any time you have a thought that you are 100% lazy, just note it playfully: “Oh, look – there’s my couch potato story.”
Do this labeling for a week. Simply noting the stories is peak mindfulness for writers. You’re aware of the story patterns in your brain, when they come up, and maybe even how they land in your body. You start to realize how often you’re filling your head with limiting beliefs and you might even begin to see how those beliefs are affecting your writing practice.
After a week or so, when you’re really mindful of the stories and labeling them like it’s no thing…
Step Five: When the thoughts arise, assess whether they are “fiction” or “non-fiction.” Spoiler alert: most of your limiting beliefs and negative self-talk are fiction.
Step Six: This is where the magic happens. You’re going to revise your story, changing the genre from fiction to non-fiction.
Here’s an example from one of my stories, “The Madwoman in the Attic.”
I name all thoughts that tell me I’m not working hard enough, that I don’t have enough hours in the day, that I’m behind, that I need to hustle for my worth or the gold star through overwork under this story umbrella.
.
.
.
Thought: “There aren’t enough hours in my day.”
Mindful Noting: “Heyyyyyy, Madwoman. I see you up there.”
Fiction or non-fiction?: “This thought is fiction.”
Change the Genre to Non-Fiction: “There are enough hours in my day and if I don’t like that, I’m going to have to take it up with the universe because everyone gets 24 hours. Problem is, I’m trying to pack more work than is possible in my 24 hours.”
Inquiry: Now that I know that my issue is me overloading my day, I see an invitation to inquiry: What’s taking up all this time when I’m pretty sure I planned my day well? I have a planner! I’m organized! What the what?!
I decided to look over my days and figure out where I was leaking time (kind of like your car leaks oil and you have no idea because you’re, you know, in the car):
I discovered that I wasn’t having clear enough boundaries with my email. Sure, I’m careful to be intentional about when I check it (#mindfulness), but I noticed that I felt compelled to answer those emails, even when it meant cutting into my writing time.
(See how easy it is to have your writing time slip away?)
Action Step: I decided to respect my time more and put a little disclaimer in my email signature: I’d respond to emails within 24-48 hours, M-F. This gives me a healthy break from my inbox on both Saturdays, my writer’s sabbath, and Sundays too. Plus, it gives me a buffer as needed.
When you look at the tasks in your day, those seemingly small pockets of minutes REALLY add up.
Now, when my Madwoman tells me I don’t have enough hours in the day, I know that’s an invitation to look at where my time is leaking, or how I’m not using the time I have well. “Heyyyyyy, Madwoman. I see you. Time to revise.”
Story Alchemy: Changing Genres In Action
Let’s do another example:
You didn’t write today and you think, “I’m not committed to my writing.” This is fiction. You obviously are because you’re reading this blog post and only writers committed to their writing bother to improve their writing practice. So, you need to change the genre of your thought in order to not be run by this limiting belief. The less this belief runs you, the more bandwidth you have to create—it’s not taking up all that space, so you get to convert that worry energy to creative energy.
Step One: Recognize the thought
Step Two: Note that your thought is “fiction”
Step Two: Name the story umbrella that thought lives under
Step Three: Change the genre of your thought
Fiction: I’m not committed to my writing.
Non-fiction: I didn’t write today because I decided to go on Amazon instead.
Which one is more workable for you? I’m guessing the latter. If you have the thought that you’re not committed to your writing, there’s nowhere to go from there other than throw a dance party to Morrissey with your Inner Critic.
By changing the genre of your thoughts, you have a realistic assessment of your performance.
You’ve noted something that’s not working for your writing practice - going into your Amazon cart instead of into your story - and now you can determine best next steps.
This might mean that tomorrow, you turn off your WiFi during your writing session. Or you reward yourself with your writing session with a little retail therapy. Whatever you decide to do, you’re no longer being run by a fictional story.
Exploration: Revising Your Stories
Mindmap or journal about the following:
What are the stories you’re telling yourself?
Is there a larger narrative, an anthology, if you will, that all these stories rest under? For example, I have a writer who always feels behind and she calls the stories she tells herself about this “My White Rabbit Story.” (re: Alice in Wonderland)
Try changing the genre of your thoughts on paper to see how this process plays out.
How To Apply This Concept To Your Characters
I plot from the inside out, meaning that all plot comes out of what I call the “Keyring Of Desire” in my Unlock Process: Desperate Desire, Unconscious Need, and Misbelief.
Any kind of work I do on myself—this sort of self-development inquiry we’ve been working with today—can be applied to my characters.
What are the stories your character tells herself? (Misbelief)
How can she change the genre of her thoughts? And how would this affect plot / story once she does? This relates to Unconscious Need - what the proto needs, but doesn’t realize she needs (also known as the wound they need to heal over the course of the book to recognize their innate wholeness) - because the most emotionally satisfying climaxes are the ones in which the protagonist changes the genre of her misbelief about herself or the world from what she thinks is fact to fiction. Thus, she taps into and receives her Unconscious Need. For example: Story: I’m worthless. Genre Change: I’m not worthless, but the people around me are telling me I am.
If you’re struggling to figure out your proto’s Desperate Desire - what they are consciously going after in the book - take a look at their stories and flip them on their head. The stories are a key to what they want in their life, but don’t yet have.
Pro-Tip: Any self-development work you do can also be applied to your protagonist and secondary characters.
Here’s to telling true stories so that you can write great fiction!
Resources & Further Reading
“Sports Psychology For Writers” : https://heatherdemetrios.com/blog/sports-psychology-for-writers
