2020 has been a rough year, there’s no way around it. And yet as it begins to draw to its inevitable close, I find myself re-thinking the notion of power and, specifically, personal power. (Oh, that trendy self-development phrase!)
Publishing can make a writer gal feel powerless. So can the market. So can a paper shortage due to COVID-19. And a book that came out right when the country went on lockdown - and one coming out next Fall.
And yet: I don’t feel nearly as powerless as I would have had COVID happened a few years ago. What’s that about?
A few questions worth asking yourself (they yield wonderful fruit):
What would it mean if I believed I was powerful?
What would it mean - how would I live my life differently, if I truly believed that my words mattered?
How would that belief shape my approach to my craft and process moving forward?
Scientific Proof You Are A Powerful Being
If you're reading this, you've gotten through some pretty rough stuff, haven't you? All the hurts and disappointments and confusion and mess: you're still kicking.
And here's why:
The energy inside your body is the equivalent of thirty hydrogen bombs.
True story. Read that again. Let it sink in.
That, my friend, is POWER. You've got an arsenal of potential in you, which means you can absolutely 100% finish your book.
Maybe you're on the millionth revision of a manuscript or it's just a dream inside you. Either way: you've got this.
The seeds of what is going to be are growing inside you right now.
Here's why I know:
I did some time traveling recently, back to the pits of confusion and despair in spring 2017. I'd written a blog post about transitions in the creative life, and how tough they can be. I re-read it the other day, then re-posted it, along with some fresh insights. The cool thing? The seeds being planted during that transition have either fully bloomed now in 2020, or are beginning to sprout. How cool that future Heather could see what past Heather couldn't. This is how we trust the process. A post like this is proof pudding there is something good on the other side.
Slow Is Fast
In astronaut Scott Kelly's memoir Endurance (highly recommend!), he shares a saying the Navy S.E.A.L.s use that he found to be effective during intensely dangerous moments in space:
Fast is inefficient.
Slow is efficient.
Slow is fast.
I share this today in the spirit of PLENTY, my guiding theme this November. I know many of you are overwhelmed. Writing feels impossible. Or you feel like you need to write like you're running out of time. You’re in a manic state of trying to figure out what the world wants you to write, you’re terrified there are even fewer seats left at the table, you’ve stopped trusting your inner compass.
Or you look at your WIP or your NaNo goals and you think: I can't do it.
Not enough time.
Not enough bandwidth.
Not enough.
But if you apply the S.E.A.L. adage - and I suspect they know what they're talking about in terms of living in a crisis situation 365 days out of the year, as we all are now - then you actually realize that you have permission, you have a mandate to go slower.
Margaret Atwood says, "A word after a word after a word is power."
Not a book after a book after a book. A bestseller after a bestseller after a bestseller.
A word.
After a word.
After a word.
However many words you've got in you today, be it five or five hundred or five thousand: that's power.
That's enough.
That's PLENTY.
You're doing the best with the tools you have.
So go slow, soldier writer.
You’ve got this.
