Liminal Seasons and the Power of the Dead Spot

“We have to allow ourselves to be drawn out of business as usual and remain patiently on the threshold (limen, in Latin) where we are betwixt and between the familiar and the completely unknown. There alone is our old world left behind while we are not yet sure of the new existence. That’s a good space where genuine newness can begin. Get there often and stay there as long as you can by whatever means possible. ”

— Richard Rohr

You know when you hit on something - a word that resonates, in this case - and then you see it bloody everywhere? And it feels like the universe is stalking you? And then you say that word to other people and it's like you handed them a puzzle piece they didn't even know they'd lost? 

For me and the writers I work with, right now that word is LIMINAL. 

It's a perfect word for this spring equinox season, an in-between period where things have been planted, but - at least here in Minnesota - not yet blooming. 


Betwixt and between. 

Suspended.

Chrysalis. 

Liminal. 


Also known as....The Dead Spot. (More on that in a moment). 

 

I love this definition of liminal by Heather Plett in her fabulous book, The Art of Holding Space:

"Liminal space, then, is a period in which something - social hierarchy, culture, belief, tradition, identity, etc. - has been dissolved and a new thing has not yet emerged to take its place...It's that period of uncertainty, ambiguity, restlessness, fear, discomfort, and anguish. It's the space between, when a trapeze artist lets go of one bar and doesn't yet know whether they will be able to catch the other bar.

As I probe into the nuances of this word, I'm discovering the ways in which liminality is pregnant with energy and power and gestational force. It's a time of possibility even as it's a time of uncertainty. 


It creates a container to question and re-examine your life and your choices. It suspends the day-to-day habit energy that often acts as a coma through which we go through the motions of our hours. Whether what lies on the other side is the very worst news or something wonderful, that period of time before you know the outcome can offer up so much transformation...if you let it. 


I've also begun to notice how liminal seasons often overlap. Some liminal seasons can last decades, others only a few days - as long as it takes for that biopsy or acceptance letter to come back. This offers up the invitation to recognize what areas of your life might need a little more attention and tenderness simply because they are resting in a liminal zone. 



A few things I've noticed about my own liminal periods, whether it's being on sub or waiting for test results or being in between gigs, homes, or big decisions:
 

• A sort of hazy feeling. I can also be quite distracted. 

• I tend to feel a bit drained and tired, but in a way that I find myself suddenly allowing more rest and ease.

• I say NO more.

• It is much easier for my anxiety to be triggered, so I have to be careful of spaces where I may be prone to comparison. 

• I feel hesitant about making big decisions, yet also feel drawn to wild re-imagination of my my life.  

• I begin to re-think not just the area of my life that the liminality dwells in, but other aspects as well. Questions about health lead me to reconsider my bandwidth, my relationships, my priorities. 

• My emotions pendulate more. When a book is on sub or about to publish, I go from certainty and excitement to existential dread and despair, sometimes in a matter of minutes. (Mindfulness is very helpful here). 

• I feel a bit more tender in liminal times or spaces of my life. Because of this, I draw inward more and I find deeper and deeper comfort in the divine feminine, in my female lineage, in sacred solitude.

• Comfort is key. Warm drinks, lots of blankets, escapist books. 

THE DEAD SPOT

As soon as this word - liminal - began nipping at my heels, I happened to begin reading two books simultaneously that were all about liminality. I did not know this was going to happen! Nothing in their titles mentioned anything about liminality, but this is the kind of synchronicity that occurs when you stumble on something that Source wants you to pay attention to. 


The first is the Heather Plett book I mentioned above. The second is Diane Eshin Rizzetto's Zen book, Waking Up to What You Do. It's in this book that I learned one of the most helpful concepts I've come across to explore liminality: what trapeze artists call "The Dead Spot." 


Rizzetto explores an interview in the San Francisco Chronicle with trapeze artists to look at the gifts of liminality. The trapeze artists share that the dead spot occurs "...at the end of the swing...when the swinging bar stops moving in one direction and starts moving in the other. Like when you're highest on a playground swing. The whole idea is to use that change of momentum to create the trick." In fact, she says, it's in that precise moment that the next trick is born.


"Timing," one of the artists interviewed said, "is all...there will be change. The pendulum will literally swing the other way. You can't change that. You can only use it."


I love that last bit - you can't change the liminality, you can only use it. The momentum, the hope, the determination, your training. 


Rizzetto expands on this to suggest that the moment between letting go of the bar and reaching for the next one is also part of a dead spot (and Plett, given her definition of liminality above, says as much, too). It's a place of ultimate uncertainty - and unlimited potential. Rizzetto writes:


"We don't have to be trapeze artists to know that dead spot. Sooner or later, if we're lucky, we'll find ourselves awake, suspended between the bars. Of course it's the last place we want to be. But if approached with intelligence, the dead spot can be the key to understanding the reactionary behaviors spinning in the dream of self. We can learn how to work in that split second, when either there is no new bar for us to grasp or our usual favorites no longer work; we have the opportunity to know ourselves in a way that is open to whatever life brings our way...we meet the power and creativity to break away from our habitual thoughts, emotional matrix, body patterns, and energy that fuel and direct our reactions."


The Dead Spot is:


Suspended

Between

A key

Opportunity

Power

Creativity

Breaking Away


This is a radically different approach to the way we often approach liminal seasons. Usually it's all nail-biting and treading water and stress and worry. But there is another way. It's almost always useless to swim against the current, is it not?
 

Here are a few of my current dead spots. The name is ironic because they are already so life-giving, if I can simply look at them in an entirely new way:
 

• My book is on sub. This is the ultimate liminal place as a writer. You're in this weird shadowy land where you float through uncertainty, despair, elation, confusion, doubt, rage, frustration, desperation....You wonder if you should start a new project, but when you try to, it's very hard to concentrate. You have no control. You are on the threshold of a life where this book gets published, one where it doesn't get published, one where you revise it and make it something else so it can get published, one where you throw in the towel, one where you....choose your own adventure. 

• I have two new books I want to work on, but I've yet to start. Right now, they are perfect. Untouched. Pristine. Once I start putting words down, that will shift. Not vanish entirely, but I will see the gap between what's in my head and what's on the page. And so I am going to enjoy this space a little longer. The one of possibility, with no baggage. But I can't stay in this dead spot forever. And I hope I have a good trick up my sleeve when I let go. 

• The Zen Master and I just bought our first place! There's the fear and thrill of buying a place to really put down roots in. The sadness of leaving a well-loved home with fabulous neighbors. We know our closing date, but it's three weeks away. Our landlord hasn't found someone to cover our lease, so we aren't sure when to start packing. Liminal. Betwixt and between. For now, I will dream of paint samples and the green velvet couch the owner threw in. 

• I have been in a liminal place with a chronic condition for twenty years. I finally just got the results of an exploratory surgery: endometriosis. But now I have decisions to make. This is the Heather before hormone therapy. Or before a hysterectomy. Or before deciding to forge a whole new path. (My loves, no advice please. Goodwill, though, is very much appreciated). For all of you battling chronic pain, I know a big part of you is always in liminality. And each dead spot feels harder than the last. I keep thinking about harnessing the power inherent in letting go to give me the strength to advocate for myself and others. 

     
This list would be very long indeed if I shared the liminal spaces I am witness to with friends and loved ones. With the writers I work with, who leave me messages filled with excitement over a big-time editor reading their book to despair over yet another glowing rejection. By now, though, I think you have the gist. 


Grab your journal and write down your current dead spots. Where is there liminality in your life? What are the larger social dead spots that are directly affecting you? How do these spaces make you feel? How do you hold space for them? Is there more you could do to be kind to yourself and take advantage of the possibility of transformation during this time? Are you noticing thoughts that wonder if you should burn it all down or do something radically different or quit something or start something? What would it feel like to listen to them?


When you're done with that, I recommend doing this Liminal Dream Space meditation by my favorite teacher on Insight Timer, Jennifer Piercy. It's a delicious exploration. 

 

Wherever this missive finds you, and whatever dead spot you may be experiencing, just know that, as counter-intuitive as it may seem, it is well worth allowing yourself to lean in. Your habit energy may encourage self-judgement, or compartmentalizing, or powering through: but all seeds need water and sunshine and time to grow. And so do you. 


Yours in doing right by the miracle, 

Temptation Bundling For Writers

““We think that the point is to pass the test or overcome the problem, but the truth is that things don’t really get solved. They come together and they fall apart. Then they come together again and fall apart again. It’s just like that. The healing comes from letting there be room for all of this to happen: room for grief, for relief, for misery, for joy.””

— Pema Chödrön

How do we go from out of shape writers to the kinds of artists who are in peak condition? And how do we pick ourselves back up when we, once again, fall off the writing wagon?


Temptation Bundling, that's how.



Temptation bundling is one of those productivity hacks that are so simple we take them for granted and don't make good use of them.


It's basically this:


Combine something you really want to do with something you

* should * do.


I know "should" is one of those words we're trying to erase out of our vocabularies (and for good reason!), but it often feels like we "should" be writing. We want to, but we're not. There's a lot of reasons - inner critic, self-doubt, limiting beliefs, etc. In fact, your inner critic is likely tricking you into the "shoulds" feeling in the first place. Writing is a drag, you'll never reach your goals, what's the point anyway? (Sound familiar?)


Here's the thing: you can trick your resistance.


There was a study* done where people who wanted to exercise were given three motivators:


One group received free highly-anticipated audiobooks, but could only listen when at the gym.


The second group received the free audiobooks, but they could listen to them anywhere. They were encouraged to listen at the gym, but it was up to them.


The third group received a gift card for audio books, and were encouraged to work out more.


So, how did that work out?


Group #1 worked out 51% more than anyone else - because they were temptation bundling. The thing they wanted was only linked to the thing they should do.


Group two, who could listen to the audiobooks whenever, exercised 29% more than the folks who got the gift cards.


* Study conducted by Dr. Katherine Milkman.

Here are a few ways you can try temptation bundling to get you in the writer's seat...

• My personal favorite: I can only be cozy in bed with blankets and my kitty in the middle of the afternoon if I'm writing.

• Only drink your favorite beverage of the day while writing. (Unless it's booze - that won't help you).

• You can only sit in your favorite writing chair for writing. Put that chair in your favorite place in the house, and it will be hard to resist sitting your bum down.

• You can only light that really expensive candle you love when you're writing.

• That yummy snack you can't get enough of? Only eat it when you're writing.

• That fancy planner you got? You can only use it JUST BEFORE you begin writing for the day, after you've sat down in the writer's seat and marked off your writing time.

• Your CP, who you love to chat all things writing with? You two can only jump on a call if you both wrote that day.

Temptation bundling is a bit different from your traditional rewards method, because it's combining that thing you want with your writing, not as a reward after writing. (Though the last one is more reward-based, but because it's a relationship founded on your writing, I think it works).

A Report From The Writing Trenches

Let me start off this post by reminding you of something that is easy to forget when you’re in the writing trenches:


Whatever you are writing - we need it.


We need the sad (provided by yours truly) and we need the hilarious and the sexy and the weird and the adventures and the wizards and the dragons and the little girl looking for her stuffed animal and a pigeon who can't drive for shit. We need them all.

Sometimes you’re in the flow zone with your work, and sometimes you’re not.

The “not” times can be deeply painful and really do a number on your self-confidence, your heart, your spirit. If you’re in that place right now - courage, dear heart. This is normal:

Creativity is all about ebb and flow and learning how to wait for the waves just as skillfully as riding a big one to the shore.

I wanted to take this chance at the end of the year to share my journey of writing my work-in-progress with you because I know that many of you lose a bit of heart each time you see another writer has finished a book or revision and you’re still stuck. You might remind yourself that you’re only seeing the highlights, but that can be cold comfort.

Let’s peek behind the curtain, shall we?

The Story of Writing My Current Work-in-Progress

I am happy to report that I recently finished another revision of my WIP, A Correspondence.

This is my first novel written specifically for adults, not a YA audience, and it’s been a really big learning curve. Let’s also remember that, while it was really exciting to send the full revision to my agent (based on her last notes), I know there is much more to do. I already have a list of fixes, then I’ll have her notes to contend with. Who knows when we’ll go on sub and what the response will be? Right now, though, I’m celebrating. It’s so important to make space to do that.

Don’t just celebrate the book deal: Celebrate the great sentence, the finished tough scene, the first draft, a whole week of writing.

I’m not just celebrating finishing the draft: I’m celebrating getting to be in the flow zone and have that wild, mad dash to the finish line. I’d set a deadline for myself to get it to her by Christmas, and I did. Turns out, I really need that hard deadline and I save up all my writing and energy for that last week. Do you do that, too? That’s not procrastination, that’s channeling big flow (at least for me).

What’s Your Pressing Thing?

I’m not always in the flow zone because LIFE, so know that I wasn’t breezily writing this thing. Even if you know your process inside and out, even if you’re consistent and show up, even if you want it so bad…sometimes there are other more pressing things in life than writing a story. In fact, there are often more pressing things. And that’s okay.

My pressing thing is chronic pain and the endless question of how to cultivate and cobble together a livelihood that reflects my values and passions. There are, of course, many demands on my time and energy and those are pressing, too.

Take a second to identify what your pressing things are. It helps to put having less time to write into perspective. Permission to be human.

The Book’s Timeline

I began writing this book during lockdown in 2020.

In the early days of 2020 COVID lockdown, the entire plot for this book literally downloaded into me. And the characters. And the world. I had the whole book. I could have written it in a few weeks, shoved it over to my agent, and moved on.


The last time that happened (my debut novel, Something Real), I wrote the book in six weeks.


This time, it took me six months to write 15 pages.


I kept trying to remind myself that this was okay. There was a global pandemic, and much of my energy went to staying safe, checking in with others, adjusting to COVID life, and holding as much space as I could for my writing community and friends and clients.

I’d also just had my last novel come out, Little Universes, and was in the process of going through final edits for Code Name Badass, which published in 2021. So I was a little busy.

I was in the creative cave as a coach—creating and teaching courses and workbooks and The Well.

But none of this was writing this book, and that got me down. I missed writing. This was a time where I had to be really honest with myself and admit that it was not a season for creating new work. This was tough, even though it was healthy to not put the burden of writing a new and very hard and painful book on myself at a time where so much was going on in my life and in the world at large.

My brain just couldn’t hold it all. And the book I was writing wasn’t an escape from the pain of the world—it was intended to go straight into the thick of it. So, of course I didn’t want to work on it during the height of the pandemic.

Turtle vs Hare

To recap: it took me 6 months to write 15 pages (September 2020).

It took me another two years to finish a first, messy draft, which I sent to my agent in September 2022.

Then It took me two months to re-write the beginning, per my agent’s recommendation, which gets us to now, December 2022.


This is precious. And it doesn't happen often. It's what writers live for.

So what was happening during those two years of slowly drafting?

I’d been slowly putting down words while I basically lived with war correspondents in my head. I read their memoirs, listened to them on podcasts, obsessively looked for specific bylines in the Times. (Is anyone else wondering when Tyler Hicks is going to take a break photographing in Ukraine??? No? I guess that's just me).


When I was a wee lass, I always thought I would be a war correspondent. A while back, I wrote about living in the Ukraine and the effect this war in particular has had on me.

I'm being given the chance to have that job, through my characters, and I disn’t want to rush it.

When it wakes me up in the middle of the night, my characters talking to each other, and the whole thing is in conversation with my entire life around me. It took a while to get to this point with the book, despite living with the subject matter daily.

But even when I’m not in the zone, my writing is my best teacher - whether or not I’m actually doing it. My relationship to it, how I respond to being in or out of flow, how I treat others on days I do or don’t write…all of it is fertile ground for waking up more and more to my life.


I know my process inside and out, but that doesn't mean that a book is a tidy thing so long as you know your process.


Every book has its own vibe, its own pace, its own requests of you. It's a relationship.


Knowing your process is what allows you to navigate that relationship without losing your ever-loving mind, and hopefully remembering once in a while that you actually are volunteering to write - it's not a sentence imposed on you by a federal court for being a cloud dwelling artist - and also...it's fun?

So that two years, there was actual writing, but then lots of living with the questions of the book, with the subject matter, the lives of my characters. I was constantly re-working their Character Keys (see my Unlock Your Novel workbook).

That was all writing, too.

But, then, some unexpected challenges came up….

Seasons of Doubt

Because my book is about war correspondents, I found my motivation over the whole course of writing the first draft ebbing and flowing, just like flow itself.

I wondered if I wanted to write about war anymore, if the world even needed another book about the worst aspect of human nature. I wrote about veterans and PTSD in I'll Meet you There and I'd spent enough time in WWII France with Virginia Hall for Badass. I have a partially finished WWII novel set in Hamburg. I have the beginnings of a biography about women in war. Was this obsession with war a way of punishing myself for my relative safety by living in war zones in my books?


(No. But I had to do some inner work to figure some stuff about that out, especially because both of my parents were Marines. It's complicated.)


So I tried to write other things. I mean, I really did try. I had a great reincarnation star-crossed-lovers thing going.


But I had these three characters. They were stuck in a city under siege and they had twenty-four hours to find the thing they needed. What the hell was I doing - didn't I realize there was a war on???


So I wrote half the book. Very slowly. But I still had one foot out the door. Shit, the world is in a bad way. Why couldn't I bring something sweet and tender into it? Why do I always have to work in the shadows?


And then Ukraine happened.


And, not to sound like a policy wonk, but I swear my book was based on Putin's Black Sea geopolitical maneuverings and it weirded me out. Like I had written the future. My book took place in an unnamed city in the Black Sea region, but my protagonist, like me, had lived with a missionary family in the Crimea, in the south of Ukraine, so Ukraine was all over this book.


But it was like my book had come to life before me, and in order to figure out for myself why people do this, why we do what we do as humans, I had to write it. Even if it never published. But what if it DID publish? Was that gross and wrong? To write this novel while pregnant women are being murdered in maternity wards?


I texted my agent: Was I exploiting this war by writing this book, even though I'd started it two years earlier? Was it wrong?


She texted back to remind me why we write and read and tell stories: they heal. They help us and others process. This was the time to write this book.


My characters texted too and told me that it's our job to keep the record of humanity. That's why they were out there, getting shot at, so could I please take my cozy ass back to my desk? I have an assignment, and so do they.


I always say every book is your teacher and I knew from day one that this book was going to teach me about evil.


About how to work around or through it, how to fight it, how to not lose hope because of how much of it there is in the world. It was going to teach me about what my responsibility was in the midst of it all. What was being asked of me, in terms of this lifetime and doing right by the miracle. And that scared the shit out of me because I tend to write about dark enough stuff thankyouverymuch.

I tell you this because I know many of you are not in this place of relief and joy of finishing a book. You're floundering or just feeling weird and aimless and sad.


I felt that way sometimes over the past two years, but not that often. Because I knew the book was there and the time wasn't right. I knew it was a season of listening and waiting.


So I could just be loose about it (with occasional existential freak-outs) and know that this book or whatever book wants and needs to be written would come through, so long as I created a good container for it to live and thrive in. Which is basically my life's work, this idea of tending to our writer selves all the time so that we are primed for these seasons of deep work.


It's important to keep the lights on and tend to the basics, and to trust that I have a process, and that my book is my teacher, and that both will find me if I can't seem to find them because I am a lighthouse, and I keep it burning so that they can find me in the sea of possible stories. I look for the ship with my name on it.


In the spirit of keeping the lights on, I now present one of my favorite tools from my toolbox:

laughter.

These belly laughs were curated by one of my favorite humorists, Jenny Lawson in her newest book, Broken (in the best possible way):

“Once high-fived a retail staffer who was helping me. Turns out she was waving to a friend outside the store. Still not over it.” @kirstenduke


"A friend thanks me for coming to their husband's funeral. My reply? "Anytime." @cardinalbiggles


New neighbors. Saw their wedding photo and said "Don't you miss the 80's?" They replied, "That was last year." It was 2005. @Lou_C69


A friend went and placed her order at drive thru. She then heard "Could you drive up to the speaker? You're talking the trash can." @gotcookies

I hope those people's stories made you laugh. I was literally crying when I read through the lengthy list in Jenny Lawson's book. I needed to break the stress cycle, and laughter does it every time. (Don't know what I mean by break the stress cycle? Read the Nagoski sisters' book Burnout.)

Wherever you are in the writing trenches, just keep going. You’ve got this.

Creating Your Writing SOS Plan

I’m gonna give credit for this idea to Noom, the psychology-based weight-loss program that I checked out because I wanted to see the science and strategy behind what they were doing.

This was one of their strategies that really resonated with me that I thought might be really useful for me and my writers:

They call it a “Motivation S.O.S Plan” - here, I’m calling it a Writing S.O.S Plan. It’s the thing you implement when your commitment to your writing practice has gone off the rails.

You come up with the following:

Warning Sign: What’s a sign that things are getting off-track?

Danger Zone: Okay, now that warning sign has progressed from orange to red. It’s possible you will go totally off the rails if you keep going in this direction.

Reaction: So, what do you do to get back on track?

Example:

Warning Sign: Skip a writing day.

Danger Zone: Skip three writing days in a row.

Reaction: You might call your writing buddy for some accountability, set alarms on your phone so you don’t miss your writing time, put your writing time in your calendar, get up earlier…etc.

That’s really all there is to it. So, my little challenge to you: create a Writing S.O.S plan, choose an accountability partner, really stick to it…and see the results.

You may have multiple S.O.S plans going, but start with one first and revise it as needed so that it’s really working for you.

Happy writing!

Creating A Writer's Grimoire

My Writer's Grimoire

I have been meaning to post this for the longest time, but better late than never, right?

The practice of creating and using what I call a “Writer’s Grimoire” is something I've been sharing with my 1:1 writers for approximately 10,000 years—and, like everything I share—is something I’ve found great benefit in doing myself.

I got mine at the Renn fair—doesn’t it just ooze magic? It has gorgeous handmade paper, too.

A grimoire is a witch's spell book, and when I thought about what a spell book is - that which uses words and rituals and tools to call forth something we want into being - I knew we writers needed those too.


So I started working with a fancy journal filled with my favorite inspirational quotes, washi tape, used pretty markers, added meditations I liked, mantras, mindset strategies. I could tape pictures from magazines in there. Photographs. Whatever.


It's basically a scrapbook you open when you need inspiration or have a creativity meltdown.


You can write your be-do-feel-have statements in there, your process after you go through You Have A Process (see what I did there?🙃).


One of my writers said she got a recipe box instead, and is writing all her stuff on cards. She's also the writer who once told me she was going to write writing warmup exercises on the cards of a card deck, then she can shuffle them and do one in the morning. HOW COOL IS THAT?


Anyway, wouldn't a fun artist’s date be to go find a very grimoirish journal (I recommend blank pages) and fun supplies and have at it?! You can also find gorgeous stuff on Etsy or anywhere you like to find your most magical writing supplies.


The world is tough right now, but this is something to find a little fire for your lighthouse. Something that you help you signal to your stories, who are waiting out in that sea, looking for you.


Plus, it's super fun and healing and affirming of your inner wisdom. It's empowering and tender and wonderful. Have fun!

How To Use Your Spells

The whole point of the grimoire is to have a go-to resource when your inner critic strikes or you simply need to remember why you write, what they point of it is…basically, when it gets existential in the writer’s seat.

I always suggest putting notes to self in there, reminding yourself of wins, of tools that have been helpful. Writing out how you did something when it worked. If there’s a meditation you like, write it down in there so you don’t forget how to do it. Favorite websites, books, bits of poetry, things you cut out from magazines, vision board kinda stuff…really, anything goes.

While I also recommend having a folder of bookmarks on your desktop with things that boost you, there’s nothing like a good, old-fashioned book of writing magic.

If you get one, send me a picture and tell me how you’re using it.

You Have A Process

“Process saves us from the poverty of our intentions.”

— Elizabeth King

Drum roll, please......You Have A Process is LIVE! 🙌

For a long time now, I've been building a body of work which many of you have been witness to: one that pokes at our assumptions about what the writing life is or should be and the culture of writing and publishing. A body of worked geared toward wholeness and balance, worthiness and the grit to "dismiss whatever insults your own soul." I've sometimes used the language of self-development ("mindset," "personal power," "boundaries," "burnout"), but more often than not, I've used the words of mindfulness ("waking up" "attentive" "silence"). I've culled the liturgy of the spiritual and divine feminine ("worthy" "source" "connect" "sovereignty" "inter-being"). Always, always I'm seeking the way of Beauty, Truth, Love - I never could shake off my obsession with bohemians. 

I now have a finished Thing that brings all of these ideas together in one place, but in a way that is meant to be wholly yours - not mine:

You Have A Process

While I've been doing this work one-on-one with writers for a long time and have occasionally taught workshops on how to discover and trust the process you already have, I wanted to create a medium through which this work could be accessible for any writer who is ready to trust themselves and step into the fullness of their writerhood. 

This on-demand course can be done in one nice, long day with a cuppa and a notebook, but you could spend weeks, months, and years with the materials as you explore, deepen, amplify, and revise your writing process. 

It seems fitting that You Have A Process is out in February because it has been a labor of love, but--even more than that--I can't wait for YOU to fall in love with your process. You have one and if you know that, but you "loathe" it (one of my writers said this, and I hear it all the time)....then get ready to rediscover it and get downright smitten by your big, beautiful, quirky, fabulous creative self.

This is not a course so much as a living space to continue exploring your process.

I've become a collector of processes - it is utterly fascinating to discover and delight in how many different ways each of us enters into story depending on if we're visual or auditory, if we're Capricorns or INFJs or Enneagram whatevers. All the quirks that work, all the wildly different ways thoughts can be organized and applied.

There are so many ways in - and, even if you don't know it yet, I bet your process is intriguing and unique and effective and the right kind of wacky.

This is what one of the writers I work with had to say about our You Have A Process work - and, trust me, she has SUCH A COOL PROCESS:

I will carry forward with me forever the process that we uncovered. It's the gift that keeps on giving.

Things I thought were hurdles turned out to actually be steps in my own process that I wasn’t valuing (and therefore working against). It was sort of like she helped me co-author the book of Kirsten, the writer.

Heather’s work helped me see the positive in all of the steps of my personal writing process AND taught me how to leverage them to my benefit.

Now when I am stuck, I can look at what is going on, and figure out where I am indeed in my creative process, and then go back through the tactics we developed for me, to either push forward, or get back on track.

...for the first time in a long time – the writing is my focus – not all of the BS I did before that was keeping me from the actual writing.

- Kirsten Bischoff

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Here's just a few of the gifts I've received from the other side of discovering, articulating, and refining my own process (and seeing other writers I work with do the same):

• Trust in myself and my work

• Autonomy and personal power: I'm not trying to fit myself into someone else's process (especially the patriarchy's!), so I approach the page with authority and confidence

• Freedom: Getting to lean in to how my mind works, how I learn best, and what supports me

• Getting unstuck faster

• Less panic and lots of spaciousness in the writer's seat

• Enjoying my time with a book more

• A calibrated inner compass that helps me know what the book wants (the book is the boss)

• Grace: for myself, the book, my life

Game changer! When Heather asked me what my process was, I answered something like, “I grab a cup of coffee, sit at my desk and stare at my computer until the words magically come to me.”

Instead of laughing at me, she asked poignant questions about the times I was most prolific, those seemingly spontaneous visits from the muse that I thought I couldn’t control. Through her questions and insight, we discovered what truly fueled my muse and came up with several methods and practices where I could recreate that scenario, over and over. This discovery opened the flow!

In 3 weeks I wrote almost 30k words - good words, not empty calories. One of those days, I wrote 10k!!!

Understanding how you tick as a writer is the key to unlocking your flow.

Heather has a keen insight on helping you drill down the parts to your process and creating multiple plans to access that flow. So eye-opening once she helps you figure it out. Definitely a course all writers should take.

Dana Elmendorf

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Click below to receive a peek at the process mind-map and access an audio lecture where I walk you through my favorite step of the You Have A Process exploration.

“That’s all magic is, really:
the space between what you have and what you need.”

— Alix E. Harrow, The Once and Future Witches

My oh my did I have FUN recording this You Have A Process sneak peek for you!

The quote above felt just right for today: I think a lot of people are under the impression that the space between what we have (in our heads, hearts, souls) and what we need on the page and in the writer's seat is magic. It is and it's not. It's practical magic. It's a magic you can absolutely do if you've got the will and the ways. Your "way" is your process. Your will is your desire to write your heart out. Combine the two with intention and you've got magic. (By the way, I love The Once and Future Witches and highly recommend it).

I hope you're ready to be a process detective! You're going to have a chance to look at your relationship to the page on a granular level. Whether you believe you have a process (you do), or you hate your process (get ready to fall in love with it), I can't wait to share this transformative work with you all.

This program is so much fun, so empowering, and it's just the thing we need in a world that feels like it's all gone to hell in a hand basket.

There isn't much we can control, but wouldn't it be nice to feel like you weren't riding a wild unicorn stallion every time you sat down to work? I don't know about you, but I don't like being knocked off my writer's seat on the regular.

If you can't make the workshop for the pre-order special, don't worry: it will be recorded, so be sure to pre-order.

This is a really nice way to experience going through this work in real time and hearing what comes up for others, which increases your own Aha! moments. I've adapted this course so that it can be done alone or with a writer friend (the dialogue about your process is key), but 1:1 or in a group is my favorite way to work through the material. It's juicy either way, but let's say it's a smoothie if you get to do it in community of some kind.

If you want to do this 1:1, grab the course, then schedule a few Breakthrough calls with me and you'll be sorted.

But! You can absolutely do this on your own - you know you. If you're the kind of person who buys courses and never finishes them, then get this course and either come to the workshop or book some calls with me.

Is being an empowered writer who knows, owns, and wields her own process like a magic wand worth it? I think so!

I leave you with a treat. The quote below is from a recent interview the Zen poet Jane Hirschfield gave in an On Being podcast episode.

It is such medicine in these times.

As much as we talk about process and practice, this is what it's about:

I have been given this existence, these years on this Earth, to accept what has come into my lifetime--wars, loves, trucks, betrayals, kindness. I must take them. I must find a way to live in this world. You can't refuse it. And along with the difficult is the radiant, the beautiful, the intimacy with which each one of us enters the life of all of us and figures out, what is our conversation? What is my responsibility? What must be suffered? What can be changed? How can I meet this in a way which both lets me open my eyes the next day and also, perhaps, if I'm lucky, can be of service?


To your process and meeting our work with open eyes,

How To Have Courage On The Page

This month, my word is GALLANT. (Isn't it delicious? I feel like I raise my chin and square my shoulders just saying it. Try it out loud. Instant badassery).

This post is about how to have courage in the writer's seat.

We're not putting the cart before the horse and talking about courage on the page itself: that's Level Two. We're talking about the inner gallantry you need to:

• Get to the writer's seat in the first place

• Hold your seat when the going gets tough

• Not attach your self worth to your performance in that chair

I'm going to break this word down for us a bit in this missive, and then we'll get deep into the tools that will help you channel your inner gallantry à la Virginia Hall of my upcoming feminist spy biography, Code Name Badass in the September Well Gathering (catch it on the archives if you’re reading this post after the fact).

Be sure to sign up for the September Well Gathering, where we'll be talking all things GALLANT. (And please feel free to share the registration link with friends and on social!). There will be a recording if you miss it.

Given what’s happening in the world today, I'll also be sharing one way you can help our Afghan sisters - keep an eye out for that. None of this work we do on ourselves and on the page is worth a damn if it's not helping others, right?

I was recently on the Yoke & Abundance podcast talking about Virginia Hall and what she overcame to become one of America's greatest spies, and how that inspired me in my own life, as a writer. I'm really proud of this conversation - we went deep into mindfulness, gallantry, what to do when you keep hearing the word NO. I hope you have a listen and get some good benefit from it.

I know that many of you feel - as I do - that writing is, first and foremost, a spiritual practice. It wakes us up. And then our words can help wake up others. In this episode, I talk about ways we can do that important work of awakening.

How To Channel GALLANTRY in the Writer’s Seat

1. showy in dress or bearing: SMART

This is me in Lyon, France, doing research for Code Name Badass. I had to dress the part of being gallant - my black sunglasses never fail to make me feel invincible - because inside I was feeling like an underprepared agent about to parachute into Nazi territory.

I was so in over my head with this book. And being in France wasn't the fab experience I'd hoped it would be, mostly because my imposter syndrome kicked in HARD. Here I was writing a feminist biography about a woman who had a notoriously awful French accent and prothetic limb and STILL got her ass over to France to fight fascism, and meanwhile I'm asking my husband - who speaks less French than me - to please do all the talking because French people intimidate me.

I was so ashamed of my fear of speaking, and frustrated that I was letting the imposter win: the one who told me I wasn't qualified to write this book, that I had no idea what I was doing, and - de la merde! - I was the worst thing of all: gauche.

So what did I do? I put on the outfit I felt most confident in, a red lip, my black sunglasses and I got my ass out of the apartment and into town. This was taken near the Lumière Brother's museum (the OG film makers) and while I was there my confidence was restored - I could read all the museum placards, even though they were in French.

Sometimes, you have to dress like a badass to feel like a badass.

So if you're struggling in the writer's seat, consider your environment:

• Change out of your damn pajamas.

• Get some funky writer glasses or clothes or tattoos - anything that makes you feel the part of a writer.

• Have a writing space that takes itself seriously.

• When people ask what you do, tell them you're a writer. Full stop. No qualifications. No, "But I'm not published." See how that feels.

2. a. splendid, stately
b. spirited, brave
c. nobly chivalrous and often self-sacrificing

The Zen Master (husband / Zach) took this photo of me at the Musée des Confluences in Lyon. We weren't even halfway through my research trip (with Le Chambon and Paris to go, not to mention archival research in England), but I'd seen so much: the traboules - secret passageways all throughout Lyon that the Resistance used; the place where the Butcher of Lyon tortured countless people - and was rallying his Gestapo to search for Virginia Hall; rendezvous points Virginia Hall had with other agents that were in full view of the public, including the hotel she stayed in right around the corner from what would become the Gestapo headquarters (#zerofucksgiven). I'd seen plaques all over the city that honored the fallen. I saw the train tracks that carried French Jews to Auschwitz.

Given that I was still terrified to order at a restaurant, I wasn't convinced I would have been as gallant as the French resistants and their foreign spy helpers if I'd been a Lyon resident in WWII. But I hoped I'd be, if the chips were really down, and not just the steak frites.

This is a picture of me thinking about all of that, gazing across the city, and hoping like hell I had some gallantry in me.

So how do we channel that intentionality and desire for gallantry in the writer's seat?

• Do the inner work: the mindfulness for writers work, shadow work, the clarity work, the work of assembling tools in the war against self-doubt, comparison, and the inner critic.

• Learn what your process is and make it work for you, rather than trying on some other writer's process. If you'd like help with that, click here to learn more about my You Have A Process mentorship.

• If you missed the August Second Sunday Gathering in The Well, click below for your Be-Do-Feel-Have formula PDF. This instant download will give you a process for rewiring your mental pathways in the direction of gallantry. This stuff has already transformed my life in a big way. Subscribe below to get your download (and so much more!):

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3. courteously and elaborately attentive especially to ladies

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After Lyon, we went to Le Chambon, a tiny village with a huge heart. During WWII, they sheltered thousands of Jews and the whole town was named Righteous Among The Nations by Yad Vashem, Israel's Holocaust Remembrance Center. Many people lost or risked their lives to protect their fellow humans. This is where Virginia Hall set up shop for her second mission in France. I'd come to take pictures of her drop sites and safe houses.

Then we got into a car accident. While I'm sure we weren't the first Americans to get in trouble on these roads (especially during D-Day) I felt like a dumbass - not at all gallant like the spy with a wooden leg who'd bicycled through past these same fields to catch ammunition out of the sky.

Luckily, everyone was okay, but our Citroën was totalled. So there we were, standing on a deserted country road in the Haute Loire, trying to get a tow truck (in French, naturally) on a Sunday evening.

I shouldn't have been worried: this was Le Chambon we're talking about.

Within an hour, a wonderful couple showed up, got us sorted, and brought us back to our Air B & B. All love, no attitude. Just concern and care. And THEN the wife half of the couple who owned our Air B & B got a sitter for her little baby and drove us around the next day so I could visit the sites I needed to, and THEN she drove us for two hours to Le Puy to get a new rental car. Oh yeah, and she, her husband, and their baby stayed at their friend's house, sleeping on couches, so we could have their house for an extra day.

So what does it look like to have a sister's back in the writer's seat? To be "courteous and elaborately attentive, especially to ladies"?

• Cultivating self regard. See that picture of me above? That was after the accident. I leaned on my mindfulness (my #1 tool as a person and a writer), tapping into the deep knowledge that all things are impermanent, including plans and cars. And then I slept. Self care. How are you being unkind to yourself in the writer's seat? Are you pushing when you need to slow down? Are you not listening to your body? Do you have an ergonomic set up? Gallantry towards yourself is the most important courtesy you can extend. It's when you care for yourself that you can best care for others. (Put your oxygen mask on first).

• Community. Writing is not a lone wolf activity. We need to be gallant toward one another, be it as a CP, doing the kind of work I do with all of you in The Well, donating to fund opportunities for women and girls who have less privilege to gain access to the writer's seat and be healthy and safe.

• One way to do this? Support the Greek NGO I work for that serves mostly Afghan women and girl refugees in the Mavrovouni refugee camp in Greece, formerly Moria before it burned down. I'm in charge of our new storytelling initiative, The Calliope Fund, to end gender-based violence by getting creativity materials into the hands of women and kids when they come to the center so that they have the tools to tell their own stories. We're also trying to set up shop in the camp itself, and extend the fund beyond Greece. More on all of this soon, but in the meantime....

Please email me if you'd like to donate bulk materials for art supplies, would like to arrange a sizeable donation, want to run a fundraiser for the Calliope Fund on your own or through your business, or would like to volunteer.

Gallantry In Action

Above is Virginia Hall, long before she ever became a badass spy.* The hunting accident that caused her to have her left leg amputated below the knee had yet to happen. But look at her direct gaze, that stance. She always knew she was gallant, didn't she?

That self belief in her ability and worth is what carried her through literally shooting herself in her own foot, being told "no" by everyone from the President of the United States to CIA big-wigs.

The work we do now on ourselves is how we can have that same belief in our own gallantry so that when the going gets tough in the writer's seat, we're up for the task.

Mission accomplished.

Don't forget that quote above from Toni Morrison: "I've always known I was gallant." Here's to cultivating that deep inner feeling of your own gallantry, and then letting it find expression in the writer's seat.

*Hall photo courtesy Lorna Catling

Finding Your Writer's Edge

“A ship is safe in a harbor, but that is not what ships are built for.”

— John Shedd, Salt from My Attic

There I am, having my first proper diner breakfast in over a year. It's also me finding my edge. This photo was taken a few days ago, when I would normally be writing. But my husband and I are moving to St. Paul, Minnesota at the end of the month and we had to go to Verizon to get Midwest phone numbers, officially changing our relationship status with the East Coast. Minnesota is my husband's beloved home state...and my former geographical nemesis. More on that later.

When your whole life is being upended, what's the next right thing? Pancakes and coffee - this writer's version of Bird by Bird when she's once again moving on out.

This relocation to Minnesota (Minn-eh-SOH-tuh) was not an easy decision to make. For one, I am cold all the time. For two, I lived there before and vowed never to do so again (see #1). But I am older and wiser now, and much more up for an adventure worthy of Sansa Stark. I got New York City and Asia and Europe out of my system. For now. Besides, it's very hard indeed to resist moving to a state whose motto is "L'Étoile du Nord"....The star of the North.

When you're finding your edge in the writer's seat, in your creative life, in your soul and mind and heart, it's often very uncomfortable. This is because you're calibrating your compass to whatever True North is for you. And that often involves shifts, changes, sacrifices, or a real come-to-Jesus meeting with yourself, as we'd say here in North Carolina.

Finding Your Edge

In yoga class, "finding your edge" is what a teacher may say to cheer you on, to remind you not to phone your practice in. It's them challenging you to leave it all on the mat...and to caution you against hustling for your worth and letting perfectionism drive you over the edge.

The idea is to go past your resistance and fatigue and bad habits, to a place where you are growing, but not pushing. Reaching, but not pulling. You should never be in physical pain when you're finding your edge - but you'll probably be sweating more than usual.

On the meditation cushion, I liken finding our edge to the concept of holding your seat when you'd rather just throw in the towel and try again tomorrow. Or returning to the breath as your object of meditation when it's much more fun to worry about your future.

In the writer's seat, finding your edge might be trying something new, even if your inner critic is whispering that is a terrible idea, or having the courage to set boundaries around your creativity with others even though saying "no" is just about as terrifying as the prospect of NOT saying yes to yourself. Or it might just be leaving your phone on airplane mode while you’re writing. (Mindfulness for writers 101.)

“The Edge Effect”

Over the weekend, on my writer's sabbath, I came across this little gem in a National Geographic profile on Yo-Yo Ma, one of my favorite creators on the planet:

So here's me, a native Angelino of Greek heritage who currently lives in the South, moving to one of the coldest, most intense climates in the world.

What will this "edge effect" of these two very different landscapes colliding produce on the page?

How will it challenge me to shake things up, to get more comfortable with uncertainty and discomfort, to lean in to the cold, rather than resist it? I mean, I was a competitive figure skater as a kid - I'm well-acquainted with ice.

If Yo-Yo Ma is right and edges are where creativity flourishes (he's a genius, so I'm betting on him), then:

Getting out of our comfort zones and finding our edge in whatever new terrain we inhabit is exactly the container our creativity needs for flow.

The math supports this:

Creativity = two different ideas combined to make a new thing

Example: Peanut butter + chocolate = Reese's Peanut Butter Cups aka Heaven In Your Mouth

BOOM. CREATIVITY UNLOCKED.

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The Edge Is In You

Moving to a place where "frozen tundra" is a fair description six months out of the year is me finding my edge as a writer because I'm finally acknowledging that no one place is ever going to be the place that ignites my creativity. Why? Because that fire and inspiration and drive is in me, wherever I go. I've lived all over the world, searching for that one place that would make me feel like a heroine in a novel. (To be fair, a MN winter is very Tolstoyan). But Oscar Wilde had it right, as he often did:

“Life has been your art. You have set yourself to music.
Your days are your sonnets. ”

— Oscar Wilde

If we spend all our time trying to Goldilocks our creative lives, waiting for the right time, the right place, the right conditions to present themselves...we'll never get to those places our North Stars are pointing toward, because there is no juuuuuust right if you look anywhere outside yourself.

What does that mean?

When we find our edge, we realize that the conditions for optimum creativity are already inside us, whether we're wearing fifteen layers of long underwear or a bikini.

Your edge is right on the path that points you to your very own étoile polaire. Your Essential Self is the cartographer, guiding you up those mountains your inner critic thinks you can't climb.

So this month, my word is EDGE. Finding it, thriving in that space of delicate balance between pushing my boundaries while being good to my body and my mind.

Mindfulness for Writers: Finish Your Book Visualization

Below is a meditation I created to help you find your edge. Finish that book, whether it's only a dream in your heart or you're nearing the finish line of the first draft or that millionth revision.

This is a juicy visualization where you will actually feel the experience of completing the manuscript. If I were Mae from Little Universes, I'd say this was a simulation for finding your edge.

This summer, as a I navigate the gnarly weird energy of moving house and writing my first novel for adults and anticipating the publication of my first biography, which is the hardest thing I've ever done in my life, I take comfort in the fact that all of you are out there

reaching

stretching

expanding....

into your own edges.

To a summer of sweating out good words together!

Sports Psychology For Writers

Whenever I’m working with my writers, I often feel like I’m back on my childhood ice rink, only I’m the coach and they’re the skaters. I’ve written before about the ways in which being a serious athlete in my early childhood shaped my mindset as an artist. Other than my adolescence and early twenties in the theatre, I can think of no better training than individual sports for navigating the ups and downs of the writer’s life, particularly the inner life, where creatives find some of the biggest pitfalls of their practice.

If you’re struggling with the inner critic, self-doubt, fear and the many slings and arrows of the writer’s life, I think you’ll find these tips I’m about to share from Yankees sports psychologist Lauren Johnson to be incredibly helpful. From practical suggestions for mindset shifts to quick productivity and performance hacks, it’s clear that if the jocks and artists had let themselves sit at the same table in the school cafeteria, they would have had a lot more in common than they ever could have imagined.

In Episode #467 of The Pomp Podcast, Lauren shares stories from the dugout about the challenges faced by some of the country’s top athletes—familiar plot lines to any of us who have dealt with crippling fear, anxiety, or procrastination. It’s no surprise that she often cited James Clear’s stellar book, Atomic Habits, which I often encourage my writers who struggle to get to the writer’s seat to read.

You don’t need to stretch before you read this post, but it will give your mental muscles a good workout.

Changing your Habit Energy

As I listened to Johnson discuss habits that up an athlete’s performance, I found myself thinking of the way Buddhist teacher Thich Nhat Hanh uses the phrase “habit energy” to discuss the ways in which we engage in the habits that keep us stuck. You checking your social media every time you have a few spare minutes instead of daydreaming about your novel? Habit energy. You saying yes to going out because you feel bad saying no…even if that means you don’t get to write that day? Habit energy.

These habits become so rote that they have an energy of their own, unconscious and highly destructive to the creative’s life. This is where mindfulness for writers comes in—and sports psychology.

Johnson leans on Clear’s Atomic Habits to talk about how we develop habits - such as a writing habit, or a habit of getting to the batting cages every morning. We develop habits through repetition and - good news - we can rewire our brains to become accustomed to these habits (hello brain plasticity!).

She asks this all-important question:

“Can you still show up when you don’t feel like it?”

Doing a little versus doing nothing goes a long way, whether you’re a writing struggling through a novel or a Yankees shortstop who needs to work on his slides.

That’s why I always tell my writers that five minutes of meditation is better than no minutes. Half an hour of writing is better than none at all. Two-hundred words will do when there isn’t time to knock out two-thousand.

When you do a little of something each day, you’re rewiring your brain. And here’s the good news: Half the time when you sit down to do the thing even when you don’t feel like it, you find yourself sticking around longer than you intended.

Success: Focus on Process, Not Outcome

“We have to redefine success to be in our control. ”

— Lauren Johnson, Yankees sports psychologist

What does redefining success to be in our control look like exactly? It looks like finding what you can control versus what you can’t. So many writers focus on publishing—which they have zero control over. Even if you were to self-pub, there’s no guarantee you’ll find a deluge of readers. But if you focus on how much time you spend writing that book and base your idea of success on that? Now we’re cooking with gas.

We need to focus on PROCESS rather than OUTCOME.

You can’t control whether or not your book will sell, but you can almost always control whether or not you show up to write.

And so: We re-define success based on process. Perhaps for you the win is writing every day at the time you planned to write. You measure your success based on how often you wrote, not on how many words you wrote, or how many offers for your book you get. (Technically, we can control word count, but then we find ourselves focusing on outcome - word count - and so we end up writing what I call “empty calories”: words that aren’t inspired and are going to be deleted. They were only written to give us a false sense of security, where we trick ourselves into thinking we’re moving forward with our book, when we’re really just treading water).

Sometimes, the best writing you do happens when you’re staring into space, waiting for the dots to connect.

That kind of waiting takes a lot more courage than the writer who sits and bangs out 2K words of gibberish just to color in a square in their productivity planner.

When we focus on process rather than outcome, we can now evaluate our performance based on variables we can control, which means we discover clear areas where we can improve. And if we can improve, then we stand a great chance of getting that outcome we’re dreaming of.

If we focus on outcome, it’s very difficult to find a workable next step. Either you get the thing or you don’t.

Example: Focusing on Outcome

Goal: By the end of the writing session, you will have written one chapter (outcome).

Either….

• You don’t finish the chapter. You got stuck on what your character really wanted in the scene and now you feel like a failure. What can you improve on next time so you can finish a chapter in one sitting? (Answer: Um, that is a really hard question to answer, given the thousands of variables involved in the construction of a chapter / plot / character).

OR

• You finish the chapter come hell or high water. Woohoo! You get the gold star. But wait…the next day, you read the chapter and it’s terrible. All you did was write a bunch of empty calories so you could hit that word count. Now what?

Here’s what happens if you focus on process

Goal: By the end of the writing session, you will have not checked your email, phone, social media, or done any Internet browsing. You followed Neil Gaiman Rules: you can write or stare out the window.

Either…

• You don’t finish the chapter. Gah! You checked your email JUST ONCE and got totally sidetracked. That’s okay: You’ve learned your lesson the hard way. Tomorrow, you’re turning off your Internet and your phone is going to be outside your writing cave AND on airplane mode. As the meditation teacher Sharon Salzberg says, “We can always begin again.” Tomorrow is a new day. You got this.

OR

• You don’t finish the chapter. But! You followed Neil Gaiman rules and when you were staring out the window, you got a big fix for your plot. You can’t wait to dive back in tomorrow. You feel really good as you get up from the desk. Sure, you didn’t write a ton today and you would love to finish this book before you die, but it was so COOL to have gotten so much out of one session. Productivity unlocked!

OR

• You finished the chapter! It was AWESOME because you were so in it, so focused, and so in flow. No interruptions = no problems. Today was a gold star day.

Do you see how when you focus on process you are both more kind to yourself and have more workable solutions for when you hit roadblocks? Do you see how focusing on process puts you in the driver’s seat, rather than handing over all your power - and perhaps even your self worth - to some rando editor or agent in New York?

Engaging In A ”Biology of Courage”

This part of Johnson’s podcast interview was super cool. She spoke about a study on body language and how “feeling and actions don’t have to be the same to co-exist.” A typical example is looking confident in your power suit even when you feel nervous as hell at the job interview.

In order to get the players of the Yankees to engage with a biology of courage, Johnson has her players do their victory fist pumps throughout the day, basically signaling to their body that they’re victorious. This sends a chemical reaction through their body - suddenly, they’re starting to feel a little more badass, even though they struck out in their last game. The next time they go up to the plate, that feeling has stuck around: their body knows what victory feels like, so when that fast ball comes racing toward them, they’re a little more likely to believe they can knock it out of the park.

For us writers, I like to engage in visualization exercises, like in this Finish Your Book meditation I created to help my writers combat their Inner Critics.

What will you do when you finish this book? Will you pump your fist, clap your hands, have a dance party? Will you type, The Motherf*cking End after the final sentence, as I once did on a tough book? (I had a plan to do that and couldn’t wait to type those words before sending the draft off to my editor - it was highly motivating).

I wonder what would happen if every day you sat down to write, you practiced typing The End. You turn on the song that you’ll dance to when this book is finished and dance to it. It’s going to be a lot harder for your brain to tell you that you’re not going to finish this book. And even if it does whisper that in your ear, it’s going to be harder for you to believe that.

Because your body already knows what it feels like to finish.

Meeting The Moment: “Threat Mindset vs Challenge Mindset”

This concept Johnson shares of having a threat mindset vs having a challenge mindset is also related to the biology of courage. When we’re in a threat mindset, we experience panic and overwhelm. We’ve all been there. (Every writer ever: “Man, this book isn’t working. Oh my god, what if someone else writes this same book before I can finish it? And what if I can’t sell this book because there’s already one out there like it? Maybe I should delete it and start something totally new oh my gooooood.”)

When we’re in a challenge mindset, our body will respond physically to prepare us to meet the moment. Our job then, is to work on getting ourselves into a challenge mindset.

We do this with the victory fist pumps I mentioned in the last section.

We do this by reframing our thoughts. (“I’ll never get published” becomes “I’m not published yet. But I will be.”)

You can turn your habit into a healthy challenge by using a habit tracker to track how often you get to the writer’s seat. Or put a quarter in a jar every time you mindfully took yourself out of a threat mindset by reframing your thoughts and getting back into a challenge mindset.

The challenge mindset is you as Rocky in that workout montage, only you’re at your laptop and punching the air.

Revising Your Identity

Our beliefs and our actions drive our identity—this isn’t news. But what you might not realize is how much the story you’re telling yourself about who you are is shaping who you will become. This is something we talk about a lot in the meditation world. The stories we tell ourselves are false constructs of our minds, and the sitting we do helps us realize these illusory thoughts for what they are and dismantle them so that we can go forth and kick some ass in the present.

If the story you’re telling yourself isn’t helpful, then we need to revise that.

Johnson asks her players two questions when they’re in a slump and struggling with performance:

- What kind of person do you want to be?

- What action do you need to take to be that person?

Then, it’s simple math:

You take this identity of who you want to become and you support it with daily actions that solidify and create the belief that you are this person.

Do you want to be a writer who writes every day? So write every day and now you are a writer who writes every day. Guess what? If your response is, “But I don’t have time to write every day” then I, putting on my coaching cap, would ask if you had five minutes a day to spare. Just five. Yes? You have five minutes? So write five minutes a day. Now you are a writer who writes every day.

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““Mental toughness doesn’t make you invincible, it makes you adaptable.”
”

— Lauren Johnson, Yankees sports psychologist

My writers often come to me either struggling to own that they’re a writer (they’re effectively in the writer’s closet) or they no longer believe they are a “real” writer or a “good” writer - they’ve hit what a Yankees player might call a slump.

In both cases, these writers are dealing an identity crisis. They no longer have a sense of who they are as a writer, what they bring to the table, or if they even belong at said table.

In the interview, Johnson discusses an instance with a player who was struggling to speak up in team meetings or in one-on-one sessions. He didn’t know how to advocate for himself, and because of that, he didn’t get the help he needed from his coaches or therapists. This affected his performance as an athlete. After some digging, Johnson was able to trace his reticence back to a teacher in his childhood who said he didn’t speak well.

Okay, so now what? We get why he’s this way—how does he pivot to become the kind of player he wants to be?

Before they could work on a plan to get him speaking up more, they needed to know the answer to an essential question:

What kind of baseball player did he see himself as? How did he want to show up?

Once they figured that out, they were able to work on a plan to get him speaking up more so that he could get the help he needed, contribute more to his team, reach his goals, and up his performance.

Desire Mapping: Goal Setting From The Inside Out

I do something similar with my writers when I ask them to identify what wellness maven Danielle LaPorte calls “core desired feelings” in her book The Desire Map.

This is a life-changing, intentional, intuitive way to set goals. Rather than imposing goals on yourself (I want to be on the bestseller list, etc.), you instead focus on how you want to feel. Then, as you go through your day / week / month / year / life you keep checking in: am I feeling my core desired feelings? Yes - onward! No? What shifts need to be made so that I can feel the way I want to feel? She tells you to keep asking:

What do you need to do to feel the way you want to feel?

I love this approach because it honors the divine feminine. It’s in the right brain, honoring our intuition and our feelings. The great thing about this is that it’s workable. It’s in our control, to a large extent. It’s focusing on process, not outcome.

(So not only can the artists and jocks have lots to talk about at my imaginary school cafeteria table, but the woo-woos and witchy types could pull up a chair too).

Example:

One of my core desired feelings is ease. So when I’m writing, if I feel like I’m pushing, if I’m getting stuck, I sit back and think, “Okay, what do I need to do to bring more ease into my writing practice?” Maybe I read some poetry beforehand. Or take a break and do some walking meditation. Maybe I do some mind mapping to get the ideas on paper. Ease.

Explore:

1. How do you want to feel? Choose 3 to 5 core desired feelings.

(LaPorte has some great word lists in her book, but you can always just bust out a thesaurus and keep digging until you find the words that feel juuuuust right.) These words should NOT be aspirational. Go deep and dig for what you really want to feel. Maybe the word “joy” comes to you, but you’re a glass half-full kinda gal. Joy might not be your jam. But release just might be.

2. Now, what kind of writer do you want to be based on how you want to feel? Stay in your own lane here. You do you. Don’t try to be some other writer. Close your eyes and imagine you as the kind of writer you want to be. In other words: how do you want to show up for your writing?

3. Finally, what do you need to do to feel the way you want to feel?

If one of your CDF’s is “Curious” and you want to be the kind of writer who adds to the conversation, then what do you need to do as you write your book to bring in a sense of curiosity? Maybe you need to go to a museum, get a subscription to National Geographic, learn a new language because you’re going to follow your fancy and trust that your writing will take you where you want to go. Maybe your protagonist needs to be a bit more curious.

Hint: You can do this work with your fictional characters too.

This last question is the biggie. Rather than imposing goals on ourselves and working toward them (outcome), we focus on how we want to feel (process). If we feel the way we want to feel then we have succeeded.

You don’t need anyone to validate you. You’re performance is based on things in your control.

Your Daily Check-In

Johnson suggests answering the following questions at the end of each day in order to look at where you’re at and seek areas where you might bring a bit more attention. The key to this inquiry is that we’re looking to see our patterns and our strengths. This isn’t about berating ourselves or focusing on the “wins.” We’re just getting curious.

1. What did I do well today?

2. What can I improve?

3. What did I learn?

As writers, it can be really challenging to track our improvement because we don’t have the same standardized bars to hit as an athlete might. There aren’t competitions with measurable elements that can be scored or race times or numbers of repetitions.

Our industry is incredibly subjective - even if you were to get a National Book Award, that is by no means an indication that you’re the best writer in the country. This is why focusing on outcome is counter-productive and only serves to twist us into knots. Most of the NYT Bestselling authors I know aren’t very happy. So. Maybe you don’t actually want that? I’d take happy over being on some list any day.

What do you need to do to feel the way you want to feel?

Now, go do it.

How To Read Like A Writer

The best writers are readers first

If you’re a writer who doesn’t read, please do yourself (and your readers) a favor and step away from your laptop until you’re willing to put in the work.

While you’re at it, ask yourself why you want to be a writer in the first place, if you yourself have no interest in picking up a book. I guarantee that if you’re not reading, then the writing isn’t good, and the world certainly doesn’t need any more bad writing. If you are reading, but not reading like a writer, you’re missing out on the scribe’s secret weapon in the fight against bad writing.

The trick is, once you’ve stepped into the role of Writer, your relationship to the books you read must change. When you were only a reader, you could gobble down whatever was in your hands, gorging on story, lost in the worlds and words other writers were creating. Sure, you may have underlined your favorite bits or dog-eared a chapter or two, but that was only because you loved them, not for any scientific or academic purpose. When you got to a part of the book you didn’t like, you either gave up on the book entirely or pushed through, waiting for the dopamine hit of the next love scene, the next sparkling insight, the slam bang climax. When you were finished, you set that book aside and picked up the next one. That was then, Writer: this is now.

If you want to improve your writing, then you can’t treat your reading like a Netflix binge.

In order to grow in your craft — and to continue that growth well into your publishing days — you must read like a writer who’s been asked to beta read this book in manuscript form. My students are loathe to do this: they’re afraid of “ruining” reading. They don’t want the novels they pick up to be assignments. They don’t want to lose the magic. While I understand that fear, it’s unfounded. Sure, writers you were eager to read before you looked at their work more critically might lose their shine. Then again, once you start paying attention to the mechanics of story and craft, your pleasure in the books that are well-executed more than makes up for the disappointments.

Reaping The Rewards

The dividends you’ll receive from becoming your own writing teacher — for that’s what you are when you’re reading like a writer — are enormous. While I still advocate for writers to get in some kind of classroom or work one-on-one with a mentor, as well as have a writer’s group, that will only take you so far: Reading like a writer allows you to become self-sufficient, figuring out for yourself how to improve in the areas you struggle in by breaking down how the masters do it — and honing the ability to articulate why bad writing is bad so you can avoid those mistakes yourself. Think about it: you probably learned story structure and the cadence of your chosen genres by reading. Why not take that practice to its logical conclusion?

How To Read Like A Writer

Read Widely

Dive into all genres, not just the one you write in. Read good books, bad books (sometimes you learn even more from these), new books, old books. Read poetry and graphic novels and picture books. Be omnivorous. This exposes you to new forms and styles.

Read Mindfully

You’re reading on many levels when you read like a writer, and this can take some getting used to.

In a way, all books are like a palimpsest.

There are layers upon layers beneath the words on the page: the writer’s craft and story know-how, the way they’re interacting with all literature that came before it, what was happening in society when the book was published, the writer’s socioeconomic background. I often say that all fantasy, for example, is in conversation with Tolkien and Homer. Just as all dystopian work is adding to a discussion Orwell, Huxley, and, later, Atwood are continually having.

Regardless of what genre you’re reading, you’ll be, first and foremost, looking at craft and story: language (word choice, voice, use of metaphor), story, plot, character, structure, pacing, dialogue, POV etc. This can be overwhelming at first, so my recommendation is to customize what you’re looking for, based on what you yourself struggle with as a writer.

Read for the things you need to learn more about

Are you terrible at action scenes? Then pay special attention to the execution of action in the books you’re reading (and choose books that will feature them a lot). Do you struggle with telling and not showing? Focus entirely on the ways the author you’re reading successfully — or unsuccessfully — accomplishes this.

Your Reading Checklist

This is by no means a comprehensive list, but it’s a start. You want to pay attention to what’s working and what isn’t working. It’s useful to take notes as you read or you can just flag or underline the following as you go (and anything else you’re specifically reading for). Save analyzing the work until after you’ve finished it.

Things To Note When You’re Reading

• When you really like something

• When you have a niggling feeling — something feels off, but you might not know why yet

• When you’re taken out of story (John Gardner calls this “breaking the fictive dream”)

• Confusion

• Boredom

• Increased blood pressure or other physical signs of excitement or emotion

• Questions

• Prose that stops you in your tracks in a good or bad way

• Clunky writing

• Pacing

• Places where you have to re-read for clarity

• Dialogue that feels stiff

• Moments when you can’t suspend your disbelief

• Cliches

• Missed Moments — places where the writer didn’t go deep enough in a scene and so leaves the reader unsatisfied

• Craft elements that work or don’t work

The Annotated Bibliography : Giving Yourself An MFA

The final step in reading like a writer is culling all your observations after the last line and piecing them together in an intentional way.

It’s not enough to just think about your observations in passing as you read — you’re far less likely to have solid and actionable takeaways for your own work if you don’t get intentional about this last step.

When I was getting my MFA, students were required to write an annotated bibliography for every book we read. A page or so of literary analysis.

Hands down, this was the most valuable takeaway from my program because it set me up to be my own teacher for life.

The bibliography ensured I could articulate what was and wasn’t working in the books I read and, by extension, my own work. We couldn’t just say something was good or terrible or interesting. We had to show WHY. In doing so, the takeaways stuck and my own work improved.

In analyzing all elements of craft and story in a book, we were able to begin noticing how writers did what they did and then try to do those same things (or avoid them) ourselves. It helped us recognize the difference between what was simply subjective (you might know something is well done, but it’s just not for you) and what is a craft failure. Take note of your own personal reader guilty pleasures — if you adore love triangles, own it: but be able to demonstrate why one you read was well executed…or not. Go through the above checklist and figure out what that niggling feeling was about — aha! It was a pacing issue that took you out of the story! Look at how all the elements work together to form the whole.

When you read like a writer, you unlock the mysteries of good story for yourself — and your future readers.

What Happens When A Writer Loses Her Jump

“Mental toughness doesn’t make you invincible, it makes you adaptable.”

— Lauren Johnson, sports psychologist for the Yankees

Mindset and Performance: A Drama In 3 Acts

Losing The Jump

Most of you probably don't know this about me, but I used to be a competitive figure skater.

I didn't quit skating because it was too expensive, although that was part of it. And I didn't quit because I was moving away from my rink and my coach, although that was part of it too.

I quit because I lost my jump.

A jump I could land in my sleep (the notorious Axel, if you must know), a jump my body was trained to land. A body that would get to the rink at 5:30 in the morning to jump and fall and fall again, a body my single mother and grandparents had scrimped and saved to have molded by coaches that cost $1/minute. A body that contained a heart that loved skating as much as that girl from The Queen's Gambit loves chess.

I had to quit doing the thing I loved most in the world because my mind had convinced me I couldn't do it.

Despite the heartbreak of walking away from the sport my family and I had invested so much in, my years on the ice taught me a very hard and important lesson about how much our mindset plays a role in performance. It's a big part of why I became a writing coach in the first place - we're the scribe version of the sports psychologist. It mother-loving KILLS me when I see a talented athlete crumble to pieces simply because of the games their mind is playing. It kills me when I see writers do it, too.

As I tell the writers I work with: 99% of your problems have nothing to do with your craft. It's your inner critic and the fear, self-doubt, comparison, perfectionism, and resistance that you have to watch out for.

This past weekend, my husband and I were glued to the TV, watching Nathan Chen rocks his quads and get a fifth National title - what the what?! My husband was a hockey player, but he respects the toe-pick. (Cue The Cutting Edge in-jokes). The former ladies two-time national champion, Alysa Liu, was one of the first women to land a quad in competition, but this year she'd had a growth spurt and ended up in 4th place, no longer able to land the quad that had given her such an edge. At only 15 years of age, she'd lost her jump. Boy, do I remember how shitty that feels. One minute, your body knows exactly when to snap in and out of those revolutions in the air and the next you're having your ass handed to you by a piece of ice.

A skater can lose her jump for a lot of reasons, such as an injury or growth spurt, but one of the easiest ways you can lose your jump is getting psyched out.

Just watch former champion Gracie Gold's performance at this year's nationals and you'll see that in action. Watch her body as she skates to the center of the rink before her long program. Watch how terrified she is.

Performance & The Mind / Body Connection

Out in the Cold: Letting Your Mind Win The Gold

Skaters aren't afraid of falling. Hell, that's just a day at the rink. So what is it about those jumps that make them hesitate or pop out of the revolutions? They know they can land it, their bodies know they can land it, but their minds say NO. They get stuck in a story they're telling themselves, in comparison, in anxiety that results in a spiraling panic.

Right when they need to be most in tune with their bodies, at the height of their flow, they let the inner critic in: suddenly, the skater ditches her body to hang out in her head--which has no idea how to maneuver on a blade thinner than a pinkie nail.

The bulk of the work I do with my writers is training how to get our bodies and minds communicating, how to turn that NO to a YES, how to build up the courage to go for that quad, even if we're not certain what will happen once we get into the air.

Quick: what does flow feel like in your body? What does it feel like when you're running on empty? Next: How often do you force yourself to write when you're on empty? Yeah? How's that going for you?

It takes training to get your jump back - or to land it in the first place. No skater slumps into the rink once a week around noon, doesn't stretch, has an hour to spare, and expects excellence. It's the same for us writers: if we want to be good, to be better, to reach our goals, we need to train.

We need to develop mental toughness and the ability to adapt to whatever life throws our way so that our writing isn't the first thing that goes out the window when life gets messy or complicated.

At the same time, we need to bring more ease, spaciousness, playfulness, and curiosity into our practice. Discipline might look like recognizing that you don't have a single story fragment to work on, that your well is dry, and so instead of opening that document and forcing your words out for the day, you instead court flow and patiently wait for your story or character - your jump - to get back into your body.

Trust me when I say that pushing yourself when you've got nothing will end in tears.

My coach told me to lay off the jump. That I was developing bad habits by attempting it when I wasn't squared away mentally. He wanted me to work on other skills - my skating craft, my other jumps, my spins. I ignored him because I so desperately wanted that jump back. I should have heeded my coach's advice. Not only did I lose the jump forever, I lost skating too.

The last time I attempted the Axel was in competition. I fell on my ass while "Lara's Theme" from Doctor Zhivago played over me, in a costume my mother had hand-sewn each sequin onto. I looked up and saw my coach shake his head - he would stop working with me not long after. He knew I didn't have the mental toughness to skate across ice dyed with the Olympic rings. I knew that too.

I don't want you to be out in the cold like I was with your writing, standing alone in the center of a block of ice realizing, this is it, it's over before the music even stops playing.

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How To Get Your Jump Back As A Writer - Or Land It For The First Time

Finding Gravity

Writers who’ve lost their flow (their “jump”) tend to respond in one of two ways: they either push themselves too hard and end up creating a misery of bad habits and dissapointments or they give up entirely, skating off the ice for good. Below are a few ways to get your “jump” back:

• Watch my favorite skate of Nathan Chen's: What would it feel like and what would it take for you to feel and perform this way in your writing seat? Journal and see what you come up with. What shifts might need to happen, what limiting beliefs are keeping you from finding your place in the air?

• Find your center so you can find gravity with meditation. A little mindfulness for writers goes a long way.

• Fill the well. You can’t write on empty.

• Court flow by getting curious. Rather than push yourself (that never works), see if you can reconnect to what makes you write in the first place, re-identifying with the spark that induces flow.

• Being a world-class athlete takes training and discipline. I like a simple habit tracker to help me see really clearly whether or not I'm getting my butt in the chair (and on the meditation cushion, too).

• This podcast with the Yankee's sports psychologist, Lauren Johnson, was killer. Ignore all the weird advertising for Bitcoin at the beginning. If you don't have time, no worries: I'll be writing a blog post about this soon. She's got some REALLY nifty and simple takeaways to get your mindset back on track and your butt in the chair, as well as healthy ways to measure and track growth and success. Big ups to my writer who sent this my way - you know me too well!

If your story or characters feel out of reach, just remember: they're right inside you. Your body remembers. Trust it. Trust yourself.

If you need some help in the kiss and cry, click below:

Why Being Curious Will Turn Your Writer Self On

“A curious mind probing for truth may well set your scribbling ass free.”

— Mary Karr, The Art of Memoir

Curiosity is an invitation to loosen up and show up: for this moment, this year, this life.

Curiosity courts flow.

Curiosity invites spaciousness and repels constriction.

Curiosity is playful. For craft and story, it's an invitation to the magic "If" to the powerful character development inquiry "Why?"

Curiosity is magical. Synchronicity! Enchantment! Wonder! Possibility!

All these things await when you get curious.

Curiosity is permission

All of my books are filled with things I’m curious about and just need an excuse to go down the rabbit hole with. Instead of feeling like an armchair traveler in the spaces I long to explore, I’m suddenly given permission to go deeper. I’m just doing my job and sometimes that means obsessively reading about reincarnation or learning paramilitary strategies used by the French Resistance.

Being curious for my writing fulfills that part of me that loves efficiency and focus. I get to go really deep, indulge in my obsession of a thing, put on the skin of a character who gets to be an expert in it and not feel like I’m wasting time. Please note: Being curious is never a waste of time. I’m just one of those people that likes a reason to do something. Being curious, whether it’s for your writing or not, is paying attention, and, as Mary Oliver said, “attention is the beginning of devotion.”

Quick:

Write down three things you’re curious about.

Are these things showing up in your work? Why not?!

This is the perfect opportunity to indulge your curiosity - and write it off on your taxes!

I find that when I invite what I’m curious about in my work-in-progress, I create richer characters, stories, and worlds simply because my book is full of things that light me up, turn me on, and flood me with energy.

All of that shows up on the page in tangible and intangible ways. Got a flat character? Give her your obsession and see how interesting she becomes. Boring setting? How about your book takes place in a setting you’re into: radio stations, Budapest, your favorite coffeehouse. Plot going nowhere? I bet if you went down the rabbit hole of what went down on Apollo 13 - like you want to - you might get an idea or two.

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How Getting Curious Led To My Biggest Book Deals

I was in a writing class where the teacher had a simple prompt: “Write the first chapter of a book where a character has a problem.”

The first thing that popped into my mind was a jinni stuck in a bottle. I wrote the scene - which lead to a fantasy trilogy for HarperCollins, the first of which was Exquisite Captive.

I even took that prompt in a totally different direction when I got curious about a tabloid magazine cover with a reality TV family pictured on its glossy front page. I wondered what it would be like to be on that show and not want to be, but to be a minor given no choice in the matter. This led to my very first book deal, a two-book deal with Macmillan that began with Something Real, a novel about a girl who is stuck on her family’s reality TV show. It also resulted in the PEN Discovery Award and critical acclaim—all because I got curious in a CVS line.

I think I can rest my case that curiosity is a writer’s secret weapon, no?

Curiosity Is Dangerous

“You might say that if it were not for Eve’s transgression, humankind would still be abiding in the uncorrupted Garden of Eden. Or, if you relate to the story as I do, you would say something else. You would say that Eve looks awake—curious about everything, at home in her body, and in vibrant communion with nature.”

— Elizabeth Lesser, Cassandra Speaks

The oldest stories have told us that curiosity is dangerous, a sin, the ruination of all—and that curiosity began with woman. Ladies, take a bow.

I like how Lesser turns the old tired story about Eve on its head, how she infuses it with truth and throws out the lie those old scribes were scribbling about womenfolk. The great sages all equate paying attention - just another term for curiosity - with being awake, present, enlightened.

So basically, Eve beat Buddha to the punch.

According to myth, the goddess Hera gave Pandora “the most dangerous gift of all, a woman’s curiosity” (Lesser, 36). I say we own that gift, amplify it, use it like it’s our favorite mug or sweatshirt. It is a gift. And it is dangerous - it shakes things up. It creates more space for women in this world and for characters who have questions about the ways things are and ideas about how they could be.

I like dangerous. The best kind of art has a little danger in it: audacity, grit, and swagger on the page, that’s what I like. You don’t get that without being willing to risk one of your nine lives when you sit down to write.

Curiosity As Writing Process

I have a way of working with writers to own their process, understand it, and make it work that I call You Have A Process. We get really curious about how they write, what happens when they flow, when they’re stuck, what sparks them and turns them on or off. This is intensive, transformative work that invites the writer to discover how she works best - not how some craft book says she works.

It’s an inherently feminine approach (this is not a binary - we all have the feminine within us). We talk a lot. We go deep. We look at the stories we tell ourselves and have been told. We get specific and then we test it all out in the laboratory of the writing cave, with our books as the experiment.

It’s a highly effective approach to inviting satisfaction into your writing process, to actually finishing your book, to enjoying the process because it is yours and it works.

One writer I worked with discovered that dialogue is her way in. She didn’t know that whenever she got stuck, she always got unstuck by getting her characters talking to each other. So guess how she starts off her writing sessions?

Another writer I work with was frustrated by her process. She hated how meandering it was. How much she had to journal and think out loud to get anywhere. But as soon as we followed her through the seed of an idea to its fruition—using the very process that works for her—she realized her problem wasn’t her process: it was comparing what worked for her to seemingly more productive / efficient ways so many craft books talk about.

Now? She’s jamming on a great book and enjoying her process along the way.

What these two examples have in common is that we got curious. We didn’t impose new structures, rules, strategies. We just looked at what was already working, how the writer works, and what wasn’t feeling great. We came up with tools to help each individual writer access her own inner wisdom, tools that she already knew worked for her when she was stuck or flailing. Then, we worked to help her trust what she knows to be true: she has a process, the process works, and her writing and creative heart are better for trusting it.

Stay tuned for my upcoming course on this, or email me to connect about one-on-one mentorship.

Why The Old Ways Are Making Writers Stuck

·       The culture (predominantly masculine) likes: deadlines, outlines, a plan, a clear product, PROOF. It likes us to hustle for our worth.

·       The feminine (intuitive) likes: SPACIOUSNESS, exploration (not necessarily with a specific end in sight, say, the New World), discovery, synchronicity, enchantment, ease, playfulness, POSSIBILITY.  With the feminine it’s the means, not the ends that our true satisfaction comes from. 

·       When we focus on a masculine approach ONLY, we miss out on the deliciousness of exploration. And the thing is, if we impose ways of writing that don’t work for us, if we force that, we just get more stuck. We dig our own holes. And then we wonder where in hell we got these shovels in the first place.

·       Note: We need integration of the masculine and feminine so that we can enjoy the process and write the stories of our hearts, but also have the discipline to get them out into the world. Having a holistic approach, a dedicated writing practice, and the tools to access your inner wisdom when you get stuck or bombarded by the inner critic will help you get closer to your writing goals…and enjoy the journey along the way.

·       Holding space for the process, listening, acting as a vessel or, as Anne Lamott might say, “the designated typist” is where the real juiciness comes in.

Now might be a good time to ask yourself if you’re forcing a linear, rational, masculine approach when you secretly long for more expansive, open, exploratory work.

Here’s the kicker: when you do things that feel good and intuitive and yummy, you’re actually being more productive, courting flow, and getting the results you’ve been hoping for. Forcing yourself to write in a way that others say is “right” but is wrong for you only results in madness.

Curiosity = Adventure & Access

My curiosity as a writer has given me unprecedented access to people and places I could never had had otherwise.

My upcoming biography of WWII spy Virginia Hall, Code Name Badass, got me security clearance to visit the CIA and access to de-classified intelligence archives in London. My most recent novel, Little Universes, allowed me to get on the phone with one of the nation’s top astrophysicists to talk all things dark matter. What?!

My books have taken me as far as the Moroccan Sahara and as near as my innermost self, as I explore the things I’m confused, saddened, or angered by.

When we engage our curiosity, we allow our books to be our teachers. This is where curiosity gets really interesting. I firmly believe that the books we’re jazzed about at a particular time are there to teach us something. Maybe it’s about ourselves, others, writing, the world—but it’s something. Often a few somethings.

Now might be a good time to ask: How is my book my teacher? Get curious. This will deepen your relationship to the work itself, and invite in unexpected possibilities for story, craft, and process.

“A good idea is one that turns you on rather than shuts you off. It keeps generating more ideas and they improve on one another. A bad idea closes doors instead of opening them...Scratching is what you do when you can’t wait for the thunderbolt to hit you.

”

— Twyla Tharp, The Creative Habit

I wrote a whole blog post about Twyla Tharp’s concept of scratching for new ideas. You can check it out here.

There are so many ways to get curious, whether you’ve got no idea, a new idea, or feel stuck.

Curiosity is the key that unlocks flow. It’s the “Drink Me” bottle of writers the world over.

““Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.” ”

— Rilke

Curiosity Gets You Unstuck

A few years ago I found myself adrift. Very Dante: Midway on my life’s journey I found myself in a dark wood, the right road lost.

For the first time in what felt like forever, I didn’t have an idea of what I wanted to write. I was panicking, sitting in a Brooklyn coffeehouse surrounded by writers, all of whom looked very in flow and productive (but, let’s be honest, were probably just on Twitter).

I opened Wikipedia and decided to type in the first thing that came to mind - the thing I was most curious about at the moment: “The Circus.” This led me down a fantastic Wiki hole of circus history, my fascination growing with each click. By the end of that writing session, I had a whole plot for an inter-generational saga about a Russian circus family. It’s a big, ambitious project, one that is on the back burner while I wrap my mind around the enormity of the research (and language barrier) involved. But I can’t wait to write it. I’m so damn CURIOUS.

I call this my Brooklyn Coffeehouse Eureka Moment, and this strategy has served me every time I’m scrounging around for ideas. I bet it will offer up story gold for you, too.

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“Make glorious and fantastic mistakes. Make. Good. Art.””

— Neil Gaiman

Be The Mad Scientist

Curiosity is concerned with questions, not answers. It loves why, why, why. Questions = ENERGY, the more questions, the more energy, the more discovery = the richer your stories are.

When you invoke curiosity, mistakes are welcome. They tell us what’s not working so that we can discover what will work.

Some of the most curious people in the world are scientists. I’d argue they are perhaps the most curious people. We have much to learn from them and how they approach their work.

Scientist:

A science experiment that goes wrong is seen as important data that ultimately furthers research. Scientists know what doesn’t work and they are CURIOUS about why it didn’t work. They “work the problem.” (See the famous scene in Apollo 13 when they realize the astronauts are running out of air. That’s working the problem).

Writer:

A writing experiment that goes wrong often results in the writer hating on themselves. They feel frustration, overwhelm, like they’re behind. They aren’t curious about why something didn’t work, they’re focused on the next thing they think will work, and focused on beating themselves up. THEY DON’T WORK THE PROBLEM. So the problem just gets bigger.

How To Work The Problem When You’re Stuck On Your Story

A Few Journal Prompts

o   How do you get curious as a writer? (Research? Collage? Sidewriting? Tarot?). These are tools to draw from when you’re stuck.

o   How do you experiment as a writer? Or do you play it waaaaay too safe?

o   Go down the rabbit hole of your story / thing you’re curious about – what do you find there?

o   What do you do with what you find?

o   When do you notice yourself feeling panicky and overwhelmed, like the book is taking too much time, that you’re wasting time, etc.? What do you do when this happens? What could you do instead?

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Curiosity Improves Story & Craft

Curiosity = Story Gold

When you follow what YOU are curious about, rather than looking at the market or trying to impose a story on yourself, you will discover something that is fresh, intensely yours, addictive, and DELICIOUS. That’s a book that’s hard to NOT write and one a reader will find difficult to put down.

I have much to say about how approaching your work-in-progress with curiosity will have a tangible effect on the page - and if you become a newsletter subscriber and snag my Unlock Your Novel workbook, you’ll begin getting wildly curious about your characters and creating emotionally resonant plots as a result.

Curiosity As Inner Work = Mindfulness For Writers

Often when we get stuck it’s because we’ve stopped being curious. We’ve become Serious Writers Who Have Outlines and Plans Dammit.

This stuckness can result in a dry well, a creative desert. The way out? Curiosity, of course. Just like Alice, you have to escape what’s dragging you down by sliding down that old rabbit hole.

Rather than jump into shame, problem-solving, guilt, etc. when encountering fear, the inner critic, failure, overwhelm, and other creativity gremlins, we can get curious about what’s going on with our creative lurches and stumbles – this is a much more skillfull, workable approach then many of the ones we commonly reach for.

o   Step One: Get into the body. What does it feel like, this constriction. Get to know this feeling. It will be your red flag when you are going off the rails, a reminder to invite some gentle, mindful curiosity into the situation.

The R.A.I.N meditation method will help greatly with this.

o   Step Two: What information are you gathering? “What’s the next right thing?” Go do that.

Curiouser and curiouser....

Your Relationship To Curiosity : Word Contemplation Practice

Read through this short contemplation, then close your eyes and work through it. Alternatively, you can grab a journal and begin engaging in some free association with the word CURIOUS - mindmapping, doodling, random notes…all is welcome.

• Think of the last time, or a particularly vivid moment, when you felt / experienced CURIOSITY. It doesn’t have to be related to writing, though it could be.

• Bring the fullness of this memory to mind in as vivid detail as possible. Picture yourself in the space, using all five senses. Really arrive there.

• When you’re ready let the background of the memory fade and home in on the physical sensations of your body in this moment of curiosity.

• What does curiosity physically feel like in the body? Do you experience a quickening, a rise in body temperature? What’s happening in your chest or the tips of your fingers? Listen to your body.

• While still holding your attention on the body, take a look at your mind. What quality of mind does curiosity cultivate within you? Do you feel bright, manic, muddled, whirling, peaceful?

• Make these feelings and images as vivid and specific as possible. You are encoding, like a kind of muscle memory, what curiosity feels like for you.

• Now, let all those images fade and take a moment to sit with what it feels like to be CURIOUS with your eyes closed. If you’ve been journaling, then set that aside, close your eyes, and just feel the sensations in your body, not attaching any stories or images. Just feel into curiosity.

When you’re ready, jot down insights, impressions, and questions in your notebook or journal.

You may notice that the same sensations you feel when you’re curious are similar to the ones you feel when you’re in flow.

Coincidence? I think not.

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In this month’s Well Gathering, we got into all things CURIOUS, as it’s my guiding word of the month for January (and one of my two words for 2021 - the other is SOURCE).

You can snag the workshop recording, First Line Workout worksheet (one my absolute favorites!), and lecture notes on my newsletter subscriber portal. Not a subscriber? Become one here.

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See you down the rabbit hole….

2020 Is Your Teacher

One of the most useful tools I’ve discovered in working on developing a healthy writer mindset is re-framing challenging situations by simply asking:

“How is [ fill in the blank ] my teacher?”

This is mindfulness for writers: Viewing everything we do with attentive and kind curiosity so that we can get under the hood of our process and practice. It is only through this dogged effort of inner work and flexing our emotional intelligence muscles that we position ourselves to do our best storytelling.

When you begin working with this concept, you’ll see how this simple question works wonders in all life situations, from a difficult boss to an illness to the loss of a loved one.

Curiouser and Curiouser

When we get curious about the tough stuff—rather than resentful and frustrated—we pave the way for real workable solutions (and avoid a lot of unnecessary stress and pain through needless worry-on-a-loop). When we begin to see challenges as teachers, we take an active, rather than passive role, in our story.

• A publisher with terrible author care could teach us how to better advocate for ourselves simply by being so awful we MUST get over our fear of confrontation or risk our books not getting the visibility they need to reach our readers.

• A scathing review or critique partner’s critical notes could be our teacher for any number of things: teaching us how love ourselves and not care about outside approval, or how to grow a thicker skin.

In the above situations, we don’t usually think about what we’re learning, and how these happenings are invitations to growth. No, we freak out, call our best friends and narrate the drama, take to our beds and consider quitting writing altogether, or we turn the anxiety inward, which can result in plummeting self-confidence, depression, and a dry creative well.

Asking how challenging people and situations can be our teacher is more than seeing the silver lining. This questions isn’t about listing the things to be grateful for, such as the loss of work enabling you to have more time with your partner or kids. When you ask, “How is 2020 my teacher?” you’re seeing how the events of this year (and your responses to them) are shaping the person you are, illuminating parts of yourself that might need some work, and challenging you to grow.

A Case Study

Let’s say you didn’t write at all this year. You just couldn’t, not with the world being a dumpster fire. For many writers, this would be a cause for guilt, shame, increased self-doubt—you name it.

Writer A might respond by quitting altogether, or forcing themselves into a punitive writing practice to make up for lost time. She is, of course, side-eyeing all those assholes on Instagram who finished five books this year and also managed to learn how to make sourdough bread from scratch.

Writer B might list all the other important things they did and recognize that it’s okay not to write when the world is upside down. Perhaps they’ve already forgiven themselves and they’re not sweating it—they’ll try again next year. They felt that self-care was paramount and that meant not doing anything that required plots and action scenes.

But if Writers A and B were to ask, “How is 2020 my teacher,” both may draw the same conclusion: 2020 showed me that when there is chaos in the world, my writing is the first thing to go.

The takeaway lesson for Writer A might be that she recognizes that when she lets writing slide, she feels awful. Her mental health plummets, she loses her connection to self. So 2020 taught her—by showing, not telling—that in order to avoid losing her writing when she needs it most, she’s going to have to dig deep and figure out just what it was that caused her to let something so precious slip away. Maybe, after some deep journaling, she realizes that 2020 taught her that if she doesn’t have a dedicated time to write each day, the words won’t get written. Maybe it’s also teaching her she has to look at the weird guilt she feels when she wants to write instead of make dinner for her family. Why does she deny herself writing time, but protect the “me” time of her loved ones? Curiouser and curiouser.

Writer B might realize that she’d needed a break from writing and that only a pandemic would have broken her iron resolve to publish or die trying. Maybe before COVID, she’d been obsessed with her career, no longer caring about the heart of her stories so long as she could get a book deal. Maybe her relationships with her family—and herself—suffered and she was miserable all around. Perhaps 2020 revealed to Writer A that her true priorities aren’t book deals but being an active character in her own story. In 2021 it’s imperative she strike a balance between the two (writing and family) so that she can show up fully for all of her life.

Working with This Question

When you ask how something—2020, creative dry seasons, a particularly challenging book—are your teachers, you’ll want to have a journal handy. Note that while this is deeply helpful to work with while you’re experiencing a situation, it’s also very useful after the fact. I’m sure we’ll be feeling the ripple effect of 2020 for years to come.

1. Think about the last challenge you faced. How did you react in the moment? What was your takeaway after the fact?

2. Note the usual reactions you have to tough, stressful, challenging situations. Do you usually call someone immediately to rant? Do you take a run to clear your head? Do you indulge in a vice or two? Perhaps you have the anxiety on an endless loop. How does that make you feel? Is it workable? Is it a skillful use of your creative bandwidth?

3. Now, pause. Take a breath. Then ask, “How is [fill in the blank] my teacher?” 2020 would be a great thing to go with. You could also ask about your WIP, your writing in general, or your self-doubt. Your inner critic. Your fear or jealousy.

(Spoiler alert:

everything in the cosmos is your teacher.)

4. Journal: writing and writing and writing until you come to some of the lessons you’ve been given. Of course, like any good teacher, the lessons will reveal themselves over time. But there’s likely at least one or two things right off that you know you’re learning about yourself, your place in the world, your desires, your shadow side.

Snag my free Get Clear Workbook to do a deep dive into your process, practice, and goals.

5. Lessons don’t mean a thing unless we take them to heart and put them to action. So to really integrate the knowledge you’ve gotten, you’ll want to think about what steps or actions you might take. For example, if 2020 taught you that you can’t write when there are people around, it might be a good time to clear out that guest room nobody’s using and turn it into an office—with a door that closes and locks.

Professor 2020

No one will deny that 2020 was a shit year. For many writers, this year could be marked as a wash, as a lost year.

But whether you wrote a whole book or a single word, I know there is much that this year taught you, all of which you will be able to put into practice in 2021 and beyond.

• What did it teach you about the kinds of stories you want to tell?

• What did you learn about your relationship to your writing?

• What did it teach you about the importance of story in our lives?

• What did it show you about the kind of writer you are…and the kind you want to grow into?

• What did it teach you about your desires, hopes, and dreams?

• What did you learn about boundaries—with yourself and others?

Whether it’s getting clarity on your real priorities, on the kinds of stories you want to tell, or your relationship to your work, let this be the year that acted as a refiner, burning away what’s not working in and around you, and leaving behind a writer who is ready to put words that do right by the miracle into the world.

And that is how the student becomes the master.

Slow Is Fast

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.

How To Take A Writer's Sabbath

“Life has been your art. You have set yourself to music.
Your days are your sonnets.”

— Oscar Wilde

It wasn't until January 2020 that I finally started taking a weekly Writer's Sabbath. Since then, my life and my creativity have been immeasurably better.

Put simply: Having a weekly Writer's Sabbath has given my creativity and mental health a boost unlike anything since I began a serious meditation and mindfulness practice.

Every Saturday I take the whole day off. I do not write or coach or teach. I do whatever my heart fancies. I don't run errands that aren't exciting and creative to me. I don't clean. I don't even cook that much.

I follow Walt Whitman's advice: "Dismiss whatever insults your own soul."

This is why people rarely receive emails, calls, or texts from me on Saturdays. You won't see me on social, unless I'm feeling arty and want to post a photo I took on Insta. I don't schedule anything. Not even fun things because I don't want to be beholden to anything or anyone.

My Writer's Sabbath make me feel like the above photo, which I took on a visit to one of my favorite places in the world, the Los Angeles Public Library (main downtown branch), my childhood library. I look forward to it all week. It's the one day that's mine and, even though it's just one day and I work pretty hard on all the other ones, it really is enough to refill my well and keep me going.

I specifically use the word "sabbath" because it's truly meant to be a day of non-work, of rest, of filling the well and nourishing my spirit.

I have no agenda on this day. I don't have to do anything arty or intellectual or go through my TBR or whatever. I just wake up and do whatever I want.

One sabbath, I read a whole romance novel. Another, I binge-watched Killing Eve (I rarely watch TV during the week, so this is a rare treat). I'll wander through my house and pick up random art or poetry books and read them. Last week, I read part of a book on the Romanovs because why not and I took a bath while listening to an audio book. Among other delightful things.

My clients who have kids aren't usually able to take a whole day like this, but I encourage them to grab a set amount of hours to themselves, in agreement with a partner. Or let themselves off the hook for chores, cooking, and the like. It's a day to be more gentle on themselves as a parent and to also have zero pressure to write. They read the whole paper when they get up, or have that afternoon glass of wine. They're good to themselves.

It's not just about the day itself: it's a sabbath mindset. It's recognizing that in order to be creative, we need to give ourselves space and quiet and rest. So even if you don't get the whole day, your mind is sabbath-oriented, and so you still get some much needed R&R.

If you're running on empty, now would be a great time to introduce a sabbath into your writing practice.

Make no mistake, the sabbath is working FOR you, even though you don't have to lift a finger.

How To Take A Writer's Sabbath / Access Sabbath Mindset

As writers, we often forget what Oscar Wilde said about our life being our art, about our days being sonnets. Many writers have frazzled, harried days, dump themselves in the writer's chair and expect some magic to happen. But if you haven't been filling the well (sabbath, meditation, etc.), then it isn't fair to YOU to expect flow. So sabbath mindset is an all-week thing. It's being intentional about taking that sabbath and organizing your week accordingly to ensure you don't cheat yourself out of it. (Something is always coming up, no?). It's putting your sabbath on your calendar and making it non-negotiable.

To me the sabbath is a sonnet, a day where I actively enjoy my life and myself.

Here are my best practices, whether your sabbath lasts all day or just a few precious hours:

• Do it every week, ideally on the same day (consistency is key to keeping a habit!). Make it non-negotiable. Schedule it.

• Don't write or work on your book on this day, unless it's to do something yummy like build  a playlist or Pinterest board. You'll be amazed how nice it feels to have one day where you don't put pressure on yourself to be creative. To not have that guilty game with yourself I know so many of you play. ("I should write, but...")

• Write a list of what "insults your own soul" and don't do those things on your sabbath no matter what. Could be grocery shopping, going to a party, email. The more clear you are on this, the easier it is to set yourself up for success throughout the week. You do the grocery shopping earlier. You call that friend who yaks your ear off the day before. You turn down invitations if they're for your sabbath.

• Get support and accountability. If you have kids, arrange for someone to give you a bit of time to yourself ahead of time. If you're a workaholic, ask a writing friend to keep you accountable. If you have a boss from your day job who has no boundaries, put up a vacation responder every sabbath and let them know you won't be available that day.

• Don't plan anything for your sabbath. Don't sneak in big projects for the house and pretend they're creative. Don't set up expectations for how the day will go. Just wake up and see where the day takes you.

• Be curious. Take good care of you. Be lazy and have fun.

• If you feel resistance to taking a sabbath or immediately assume you couldn't possibly find the time, I encourage you to explore that. Why is it hard to give yourself one day?

Benefits

• The best and biggest exhale you'll have all week. It's such a relief when my sabbath (Saturdays) roll around.

• Increased flow. (This is why I talk about this so much on the Flow Lab!)

• Filling the well to set your writing practice up for success in the next week. (Can't run on empty, my friends!)

• More inner expansiveness for optimal story brain: Seriously, even if I did the laziest, consumer-based stuff all day, I almost always get great ideas on my sabbath. I think by relaxing and not writing or thinking about writing, things can arrive. Sort of like if you look for love you can't find it, but then it finds you the minute you stop looking.

• Happiness. Seriously, I'm just happy on that day. I look forward to it all week long and I enjoy it. (If I don't enjoy it, it's because somehow I broke my sabbath rules and it killed the vibe).

• With everything going on in the world, it gives me more ways to explore what's coming up for me. I might spend a good part of the day journaling or doing a tarot spread or taking longer walks than usual.

If You've Got No Creative Juice

The sabbath is just one of many things I help the writers I work with integrate into their creative lives. So many of my writers are struggling to hold onto their creativity right now. If you’ve got no creative juice, then it’s time to get proactive.

Here’s to filling the well and dismissing whatever insults your own soul-

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Why You Should Keep Writing When The World Is Burning

Dearest Writer:

Don't stop writing.

The world is burning, but:

Don't stop writing.

Everything is uncertain and terrifying, but:

Don't stop writing.

Why? Why do words on pages or stories about made-up things (if you write fiction, which I know most of you do) even MATTER right now?

A thought experiment:

Think of one person in your life who isn't a writer. Who might not have much education. Who has trouble articulating their feelings and thoughts. Think about how that person feels when they read a book and recognize parts of themselves in it - and understand themselves and their place in the world more because of it. Think about how books can help them feel seen and known. Or how these books can open them up to new ideas and ways of being. This can happen in ANY kind of story. The lightest comedy can erase hate. Just look at Glee. I saw with my own eyes people in my life become less intolerant simply because they liked a story with characters who were different than them, characters they came to love and root for. And then, in their real lives, people like those characters? Well, suddenly they weren't "other."

Back when I lived in Boston, I was the Volunteer Coordinator for the Prison Book Program. (A worthy organization to donate to, by the way!)

I received so many letters from Black men--many of whom had been put away in their youth--seeking books. Some wanted practical things like legal aid, while others just wanted a good story. They wanted to get out of the cages our society had put them into through the pre-school to prison pipeline. Books were that escape.

So we need everything you've got, writers. They need it.


Things fall apart. The center cannot hold. This is the spacetime juncture we all find ourselves in right now amidst the COVID-19 pandemic and the unrest in the United States that was a LONG time coming.

It can feel like writing is pointless. Like your stories or words--maybe even YOU--are pointless. Spoiler alert: Your words and your stories and * especially * YOU are necessary and important.

So is our fight for justice and the words we choose to take part in that fight with. But your writing and your fight are not mutually exclusive.

Stories are empathy machines and this world needs empathy now more than ever.

Stories are sanctuaries - and this world needs those too.

Whatever you write--whether it's topical or escapist--a reader somewhere needs it.

The past few days, I've been switching between romance novels for escape and books on race. I've been reading non-fiction and fiction that helps me get into the world of my new book. I've been reading poetry. I've been reading the Times and I've been reading my own work-- books written long ago whose characters are my comfort food.

So whatever you're writing: keep writing. Or give yourself permission to take a break if you need it--not too long, though. The world needs stories.

Of course, writing is not ALL one must do.

But this is what I can speak to. I encourage you to seek Black voices in the creativity space to go deeper with how you can use your words in the fight against injustice and to gather their wisdom on creativity.

One great place to start is by following Kate Johnson, a Black meditation teacher and writer who led a retreat on the intersection of spirituality and race that I attended in 2017 as part of my meditation teacher teacher training. You can find her here.

Writer Rachel Cargle has a wonderful Instagram with TONS of valuable resources to both educate and activate in the link of her Instagram bio, as well as a great feed. I've found this to be immensely helpful as I've navigated my role as a White woman in all of this.

Make no mistake: an ignorant writer is worse than not writing at all. So we educate ourselves, we write, and we fight.

There are so, so many ways to get involved and I trust that you wonderful writers are all delving into those options. The key, of course, is to be active characters, just as we strive to write active characters.

Passive protagonists never make for a good story.

To go deeper into how you might align your words and your values, check out this post on How To Write A Writer’s Artist Statement.

To your words-

My Interview with the Author's Guild

In celebration of my new book, Little Universes, the Author’s Guild invited me to do a Member Spotlight interview. Their questions were fantastic and I loved how I got to speak to WHY I write, who I write for, and share a couple of my most treasured writing practices.

I’ve posted the interview below, or you can find it here.

Why is writing important to you and why do you think it's an important medium for the world?

I write in order to awaken my readers to the deepest parts of themselves, ignite their imaginations, and hold space for them as they grapple with what it means to be human. My goal as a writer--whether it's a book or a blog post--is to inspire my readers on their life's journey, to aid in their continual discovery of their place in the universal story, and help them strengthen their connection to others. I want my words to be a refuge when one is needed and a light in the darkness when none can be found: a bit of good, old-fashioned magic. Also? I want to entertain the heck out of each person whose eyes land on my pages. Life is hard. Books help. I really love how Alice Walker talked about how her activism was the way she paid rent for being on the planet. I feel like writing is that for me. In my recent novel, Little Universes, the characters are figuring out how to "do right by the miracle." The miracle being the mind-blowing amount of things that had to come together so an individual human being exists. I think of my ancestors and the sacrifices they made and the natural or cosmic events and every micro choice in my parents' lives that led to my particular self. I want to honor--to live up--to all of that, and words are the way I've chosen to do right by the miracle.

What are your tried and tested remedies to cure writer's block?

I write. I don't believe in writer's block. I think that's the monster under every writer's bed. That's not to say I don't ever feel like I'm stumbling around in the dark. But we're writers, right? We know the power of language. So I try to avoid using language that makes me feel constricted, limited, shackled. I don't say "blocked" with myself or the writers I work with. I say "stuck." If you're stuck, there's room for movement: you'll eventually hit upon a way to wiggle out. If you're "blocked," suddenly you're at a military checkpoint, no movement allowed. At the end of the day, I believe showing up is the key. Write a lot. Be consistent. Treat your writing as a practice--one you're devoted to. As Picasso said, "Inspiration exists, but it has to find you working." It's a simple equation, really: Intention + Devotion = Flow. However, I do have a couple tried and true practices when I'm stuck: I meditate almost daily, which works the same muscles in your brain as creative flow. I use mindful practices to work with my Inner Critic, self-doubt, fear, etc. And I take a weekly writer's sabbath to fill the well. A whole day where I let my curiosity run the show. It works every time. You can't draw creative water from an empty well. Finally, I cultivate a healthy relationship with my writing: In my life, writing is the harbor, not the storm.

What is your favorite time to write?

I love writing in the morning. Most of the time, when I'm on my most healthy schedule, it's the first thing I do after my morning coffee and walk around the lake near my house. The walk primes the pump--not quite as good as meditation, but it does the trick. I get ideas on the walk, get in touch with nature, tap into flow. Doing my writing first thing is necessary on a few levels. First, as it's the most important thing to me and in my day, I put it first to ensure I actually get that writing done (this avoids the terrible I-didn't-write-today guilt/panic/shame ride). I like to meditate between my writing sessions so I can keep that flow and focus going. I write BEFORE I open my email and certainly before I go on social media or take a call. Nothing kills flow like our phones and apps and inboxes. I'm also signaling to myself and those around me that writing is the priority. And I'm getting the best of me when I sit down to write first thing. I'm not drained from social interactions or the hellscape of the inbox. I haven't been knocked about by social media or news from publishers or the world at large. Writing first thing keeps me honest, too. If I'm a writer, then I need to write. Plain and simple.

What's the best piece of writing advice you've ever received and would like to impart to other writers?

One of my mentors, the novelist A.S. King, gifted me a poem that keeps me grounded in the ups and downs of the writer's life. I was working on my MFA at the time and juggling deadlines with my publisher, while also feeling the whiplash of the debut author's first rodeo of publication. I'm a big Whitman fan and she encouraged me to keep this treasure trove of wisdom in mind from "When I Heard The Learn'd Astronomer," which is basically about having that little blue dot, cosmic perspective. It's great for building and maintaining a healthy mindset, to having perspective about what matters most (the writing):

When I heard the learn’d astronomer,
When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me,
When I was shown the charts and diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them,
When I sitting heard the astronomer where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room,
How soon unaccountable I became tired and sick,
Till rising and gliding out I wander’d off by myself,
In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,
Look’d up in perfect silence at the stars.

I recite this to myself when I get lost and worried about my status in publishing, my sales, my "brand"--all that. This brings me back to why I write in the first place (doing right by the miracle).

What excites you most about being a writer in today's age?

The absolute best thing about writing in 2020 is how easy it is for readers to reach out to me. Just [recently] I received a beautiful, heartfelt message on Instagram from a hurting teen who'd read my recent novel, Little Universes, which delves into topics ranging from the Big Questions to addiction to suicide. One of the characters, Hannah, talks about feeling invisible. Zero followers, zero purpose. And this reader, she identified with that. And as Hannah begins to sort out for herself how to flourish as a human being on Earth in the digital age, this reader said she was able to get some clarity for herself too. I don't know if this reader would have taken the time to write a letter, find an envelope and a stamp, figure out my address, and then remember to mail it to me. I love snail mail, but most people these days are not going to go to that effort. But because I'm on social media, she could reach out to me right away, right after finishing the book, and tell me how my words landed. Receiving a message like that, it's everything. It's why I do this. It's what makes all the effort and heartache and joy and confusion and terror of putting your words into the world worth it. To know my words, my story, helped shine some light in the darkness of another person's life? That's the ultimate mic drop.

***

The Author’s Guild is a fantastic organization that, if you’re a writer, I highly encourage you to support and join. They have incredible resources for us and fight hard on our behalf against piracy and other injustices. You can learn more about membership here.

---

Scratching

“The first steps of a creative act are like groping in the dark: random and chaotic, feverish and fearful, a lot of busy-ness with no apparent or definable end in sight. There is nothing yet to research. For me, these moments are not pretty. I look like a desperate woman, tortured by the simple message, thumping away in my head: “You need an idea.””

— Twyla Tharp, The Creative Habit

Writer, tell me if you can relate:

You're in a writing funk.

The problem isn't so much snatching away a few minutes here and there to write--or maybe even a few hours--the real problem is that you just aren't feeling it. Sure there might be reasons (pandemics, an unfilled creative well, writing life trauma), but really you

Just. Aren't. Feeling. It.

You're reading craft books, you've covered the pages of multiple notebooks with reams of notes on possible projects. Nearly all of your sentences to anyone who will listen start with, "What if..."

What if I wrote a story like, um, like Romeo and Juliet, but in Mars?! Or, no wait--Romeo and Juliet ON A SUBMARINE.

Story ideas come and go, and maybe for a minute there you're really digging something. But then suddenly you're...not. They all sound stupid and pointless and you feel like maybe you should write something really IMPORTANT because, you know, pandemics.

The whole part of the process where you're between projects and you haven't committed to the idea for your next one (or even HAD it yet) is DEEPLY uncomfortable.

Just check out the quote at the top there by choreographer Twyla Tharp.

Up until quite recently, I've been in this place—and it’s not the first time I’ve been here. In fact, this is the first stop I make in my writing journey when I want to write a new story.

It’s not an issue of lacking creative wellness. I meditate and walk nearly every day. I have a writer's sabbath once a week. I mean, I literally created something called the Flow Lab. I had scores of ideas because the well was filled and yet...nothing. I felt like a daemon in His Dark Materials that hadn't settled on its form yet. One day, I'm positive I'm writing that WWII novel I literally went to Germany to do research for. The next? Tired of Nazis. I am FOR SURE writing a book about star-crossed lovers. A week later. UGH, this book is crap. Etc.

Scratching

In her book The Creative Habit, Tharp talks about this process better than anyone I've ever read. She calls it "scratching." Seriously buy this book and read the whole thing, but ESPECIALLY read the whole chapter on scratching. (While you’re at it, get the book Art and Fear.) I turned to Tharp again recently--as I turn to this book often over the years--for some comfort. It reminded me this is all very normal and necessary and I'm not alone.

This whole phase where you're searching for an idea is part of the process and one that you can bring a lot of intentionality to. Rather than turning to desperation or moping, you can actively show up for this stage.


A friend passed this Nick Cave quote along to me at just the right time, when I was feeling pretty alone in my writing funk and I reposted it a few days ago on Instagram:

Below is what happens during this stage for me, and it always happens this way because it's my process, but the thing is that I FORGET it's my process until my husband tells me I do this every time.

I share it in the hopes that if you're going through this, you can get some ideas for how to scratch on your own.

A Study In Scratching

1. I finish a book and either it's been accepted or rejected by my agent / editor. Now I have to write something new. Because I'm often juggling multiple projects, I usually have a WIP to fall back on while I'm searching for my next idea. This makes the whole process less uncomfortable because I get to be writing and working on something while looking for the next thing. Except this spring I DIDN'T HAVE ANOTHER PROJECT TO FALL BACK ON. Suddenly, I was in the No Man's Land of story ideas.

1. At first, this was exciting. Yay! I can play in my creativity sandbox and see what I come up with! I do writing exercises, I read poetry, I work on craft. I commit to an hour a day instead of 3 hours for writing because I know that 3 hours of scratching will just make me anxious.

2. I latch on to the first good idea and I'm FULLY COMMITTED. Until...I'm not. Then I start rapidly cycling through ideas. I bring out my trusty cigar box of index cards, filled with story ideas, that I bought at a voodoo shop in NOLA. Oh YES! I forgot all about that great story idea I'd thrown in there! I start working on it, but....no. It's not "the one."

3. I decide that the reason I can't focus on an idea is because of the chaos in my outer life. I begin rearranging furniture, throwing things out, organizing, cleaning. I make a lot of soup. I believe FIRMLY in the Gospel of Soup and that all crises can be weathered with a pot of soup. (We currently have A LOT of soup set aside in the freezer).

4. Throughout this time, my mind is whirling and whirring and I'm trying not to think about the market or that I promised a specific book to my agent by a specific time and now I hate that book idea and that time is getting closer. I start saying, "Merde" under my breath. A lot.

5. Despair settles in, but because I've been here before and I also have a healthy writer wellness system in place, I keep meditating and doing mindfulness work through all this discomfort, and keeping my weekly writer sabbath. I also am sure to be gentle with myself. I don't usually watch much TV, but during this time, I allow more of that. More down time. More binge reading. More gentleness in general.

6. I remind myself, again and again, that this is the season I'm in, that seasons change, that I just need to lean in and let this be uncomfortable. It's going to be okay. I have proof in this pudding: It's always okay in the end. An idea always comes. A story always tugs my sleeve. It's just taking its goddamn TIME about it, is all.

7. So I'm showing up and being mindful and filling the well and sitting with this uncomfortable uncertainty. I'm feeling kind of enlightened about the whole thing. I just REALLY MISS WRITING. I miss it! I miss writing a book! Telling a story! Living in new worlds with characters I love.

8. This is all made worse when triggered by comparison (someone I know gets a book deal etc.) or some sort of rejection in the industry (a book I have out doesn't do well etc). The only thing that saves me here is my mindfulness practice, which is why I harp on all the writers I work with to practice. We don't practice for the good times, we practice for these tough moments, so we can be ready when they come and not lose our shit. 

9. Throughout this time, I'm working hard to be intentional (which is my number one rule for all writing, whether you're in this stage or drafting or revising). Show up. As Picasso said, "Inspiration exists, but it has to find you working." An hour a day of scratching. More reading throughout the day. More walks. More permission in general. I try to clear my schedule more than usual.

10. And then: EUREKA! The story comes. Out of nowhere or maybe it's been there all along and I just needed to see it in a certain light. Something clicks. I can see why this is not only the right story for me, but the right story for me RIGHT NOW. Just because it's a good idea doesn't mean you have to write it. I have to feel really jazzed and jazzed for a while. I have to want to WRITE the story, not just think about it.*

    
    *As of press time, so to speak, I think I HAVE found my next project. Ask me in a month if that's still true.

“A good idea is one that turns you on rather than shuts you off. It keeps generating more ideas and they improve on one another. A bad idea closes doors instead of opening them...Scratching is what you do when you can’t wait for the thunderbolt to hit you.”

— Twyla Tharp

Me, meditating in the Word Garden at Highlights Foundation during the Secret Garden retreat I led in 2019.

One of the things I tell the writers I work with is that we have to think about writing as seasons.

Sometimes, you're in a really prolific, working season. Other times, you're a fallow field, taking a rest and waiting for ideas to plant themselves in you. All of that is good. All of that is the path.


Getting the book deal isn't the path. Those are ephemeral and they aren't writing. They're selling - two different things entirely. So the PATH of the writer is writing and creating and dreaming up stories. The PATH is the goal. So you can chill out because you've already achieved your goal, so long as you're still scratching and, eventually, writing in earnest.

We don't look at a fallow field and think it's a lazy piece of shit or that it's uninspired or that it's never going to amount to anything. We see it for what it is: earth, resting and regenerating.

During these scratching periods, I often begin questioning my place in the writing world and the world in general. This is all healthy. It's a time for reassessment.

Each new project is an invitation to challenge yourself, to create something new and to integrate who you are right now into your art. It's normal. It's part of the process. I literally do this every time.

So the first step is recognizing that this is your season: the season where you are waiting for something to bloom. Once you name it, you can work with it.

“As Pema Chödrön, the meditation teacher, says, “When we realize the path is the goal, there’s a sense of workability.””

A Few Scratching Ideas To Get You Going That Work For Me

Be intentional. See below to download my Writing Cave Sign In Sheet. When you're in scratching mode, sign in to your cave for an hour and do any of the below, or your own scratching activities.

• Meditate every day for at least 10 minutes. Meditation works the same muscles you use when you're in flow. It calms you the fuck down when you're in a creative panic. There are answers in the silence. You just have to listen.

• Take a writer's sabbath once a week. A whole day with no writing or scratching. You need to keep that well filled and you need to give yourself a break otherwise you'll go into a creative tailspin. Speaking from experience here.

• Read Poetry. One, it will help you improve your craft. Two, it will get you in the mood. Go through an anthology or pick a poet and read one of their collections. This is an excellent way to begin scratching.

• Do tarot spreads. Ask questions about yourself, your life, stories, etc.

• Go down the rabbit hole and get curiouser and curiouser. If you're thinking about textiles, just go down that hole. Elizabeth Gilbert wrote what she felt was her greatest novel by simply indulging in her interest in gardening when she was scratching for an idea. Just stay off social. Stick to Wikipedia.

• If you have a hobby that really helps nourish you, do that too. I make soup and do tarot and play with my cat and nerd out about whisky and Scotland.

• Take walks. I wrote this post on how walking is a game changer for loads of writers and thinkers, including yours truly.

• Read. Pick up whatever is striking your fancy. Read outside your genre. Read omnivorously. Read, read, freaking read. Seriously. It's literally your job.

• Use this time to grow in your craft and lean in to your writing community. Get some mentorship. Take a class to grow in a particular area of craft.
  
  
  Here's to your scratching!

The No Guilt Club

I had no idea I was presiding over the first meeting of the No Guilt Club last Sunday until someone spontaneously announced that we writers in quarantine need a No Guilt Club. There was a resounding “aye!” from the group, made up of callers in this past Sunday’s Live Q + A for writers during COVID19. You can listen to the whole thing below, or check out the highlights in this post, which include a few useful practices you can do on the spot to help with the challenges of writing during social distancing.

What were we deciding not to feel guilty about while stuck at home and dealing with a global pandemic?

• No guilt over not writing. We’re moving to what feels like YES, YUM, ZING! What feels warm. Joyful. Nourishing. Needed. We’re moving away from “should.”

• No guilt over not using this supposedly extra time to write the Great American Whatever. You might have time, but that doesn’t equal creative bandwidth, not with everything you’re dealing with emotionally, physically, spiritually, and mentally.

• No guilt over choosing what gives us joy over what doesn’t (especially if writing falls under “doesn’t”). Maybe you just want to journal. Or color. Or bake. Or binge watch something trashy that you normally never allow yourself to waste time on.

• No guilt over our words not being the “right” words for this time. Writing the silly thing. The funny thing. The less-than-perfect essay.

• No guilt over changing our plans and moving the goal post further out. It’s not a great time to be sending work out on sub. It’s not a good time to expect a novel to get finished, unless that feels nourishing to you.

• No guilt over doing lazy things.

• No guilt over playing. With words, with food, with time.

We all agreed that this was an especially good time for journaling. See the Inspiration Portal for some great journaling exercises that you can download and work with right now.

We also talked about a simple gratitude practice for writers.

Gratitude For Your Writing

Whether you’re writing a ton or not at all, a way to re-establish yoru connection to your writing is to simply be grateful for it. I recommend writing a short list or reflecting on reasons you are grateful for your writing, your creativity, your imagination. These are amazing tools to have that so many do not. You are one of the lucky ones: you carry this medicine inside you all the time.

You can incorporate this practice into your daily writing routine to give it more structure (by the way, structure is a key component of building and sustaining a flourishing writing practice).

• What are you grateful for? The ability to imagine a better world, the stories you can think about and write in order to escape for a bit? The way writing helps you make sense of the world?

Gratitude is a game changer - I’m sure you’ve read some of the research. It’s quite the self-development trend right now, but it’s popular because it works. People are beginning to see how much simply practicing gratitude can create massive mindset shifts. So even if you’re blocked, I bet you can be grateful for your imagination, your creative spark, or just story in general. This re-establishes or affirms your relationship to your creativity. Don’t take it for granted. Give your writing some love and it will love you back.

Speaking of love….

Lovingkindness Meditation Practice For Writers

In an effort to focus on feeling nourished, we practiced some lovingkindness meditation with phrases specifically suited to our coounity. You can do the whole practice here, guided by me. These are the phrases we worked with:

• May I / we be happy.

• May I / we be healthy.

• May I / we be inspired.

• May I / we be in flow.

We first repeated the phrases to ourselves, then widened it out to all writers on the planet, struggling as we are to keep the flame of our creativity burning during the COVID19 epidemic. This sense of being part of a community while also first giving love to ourselves is a good exercise in maintaining that balance we have as writers too: love for ourselves, our work, and the readers who interact with it.

One thing I mentioned was that, in addition to tools like gratitude and meditation, we can’t forget that for writers:

Writing is self-care. Writing is wellness.

Journaling, poetry, word play - all of this can be viewed as a mental health practice.

So no guilt when you shut the door or turn off you phone and write when your family is asking for more, more, more from you. You’re a member of the No Guilt Club now, remember?

What is the point of writing right now?

The call circled around many different things, but at the end of the day, the kicker was really this question:

“What is the point of writing right now?”

I answered with the words of Harold Thurman:

“Do not ask what the world needs. Ask what makes you come alive. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.”

If you’re struggling with feelings of pointlessness, like your words don’t matter, your stories don’t matter, your thoughts or opinions don’t matter, remember: you’ve got an invitation right here, right now, to the No Guilt Club. No guilt over what lights you up. And if that thing isn’t writing right now, rest assured that it is feeding your writing in ways you can’t yet possibly know.

• What lights you up? Do that.

Curiosity is the key to Flow. Go down whatever rabbit holes you fancy. There’s usually a story once you hit the bottom.

Hang in there, friends-

How To Guard Your Solitude

“...the highest task of a bond between two people [is] that each should stand guard over the solitude of the other...”

— Rilke

I wanted to pop in with a few helpful hints I've been sharing more than ever with the writers I work with, many of whom are struggling to maintain focus and boundaries around their creativity during this time of social distancing. Writing is hard in the best of times. During a global pandemic rife with fear and uncertainty, it can feel downright impossible.

Don’t worry if right now you feel like you can’t stand guard over your own solitude. That’s why I’m here. It’s my raison d’être as a writing coach and mindfulness mentor. Through my practices, tools, and gentle prodding, my hope is that, together, we can help you build a sustainable and flourishing writing practice that works for you NO MATTER WHAT. In sickness and in health.

Permission Slip

First, I want to say this, in case you need to hear it: It’s okay to take a break from writing if that’s what feels most nourishing to you right now. I don’t know about you, but I want my writing to be the harbor, not the storm. If writing feels like a drag right now, if it doesn’t help you feel safer and more grounded and more centered during this time…then why would you do that? Why would you do anything that adds to your psychic or emotional pain right now?

Writing As Harbor, As Lighthouse, As Sanctuary

If writing is the thing that keeps you sane, if it’s the lens through which you view the world (and thus make sense of these unprecedented times), if it’s what makes you you, and if it lights and fills you up (even when it drives you nuts), then you must write. For your health. For the health of those near you. For the health of our planet’s future.

And yet, writing might feel harder than ever before, what with the world being so topsy turvy.

Even if you don't suddenly have a full house to contend with (or, as one writer mentioned on Twitter, neighbors who are DJs that have decided to turn their apartments into a club) or other major upheavals, simply trying to maintain focus when everything has suddenly become so uncertain can be an enormous barrier to getting your work done. You might even be wondering what the point of writing is anyway.

There can also be sudden and strange expectations you place on yourself, perhaps to make the most of the extra time home. Some writers are beating themselves up, creating unrealistic expectations, convinced that if they don't finish their novels by the end of the quarantine period they would have "wasted" this time. Others are being challenged by a lack of focus and motivations, or placing themselves at their loved ones' beck and call, lacking any healthy boundaries. Others are struggling with mental health: increased anxiety and bouts of depression. There's a lot to juggle internally and externally--not to even mention maintaining health, security, and your standard of living.

Here are a few ways to work with your relationship to your writing during this time: 

Guard Your Solitude--And Enlist Your Loved Ones To Do The Same

I love this quote by Rilke:

“...the highest task of a bond between two people [is] that each should stand guard over the solitude of the other...”

If you have a partner or roommate at home, sit them down and let them know what you need. Perhaps you're an introvert who feels drained with too much socialization. And, of course, you need writing time. Schedule your solitude. Create signals that everyone knows that show you shouldn't be bothered unless someone's bleeding or the house is on fire. I have a doorknob sign I bought at Graceland with Elvis's logo: "TCB" - taking care of business.  I put that there when I'm meditating and when I'm in the zone with writing. I created a Do Not Disturb doorknob sign for you in my free Flow Lab Sneak Peak download.

Set Boundaries Around Your Creativity (And Schedule It In)

Here’s a whole article I wrote with ways you can set boundaries around your creativity (with others and yourself!). It goes into all the ways to sustain a healthy writing practice. 

My husband and I enjoy walks together, but now that he's home, I still take a solo walk when I feel like it. The loss of this solitude would be harmful to my creativity and mental health. I need time alone. Lots of it. My husband is a massive extrovert. We're lucky that we've had a lot of practice with this dance, having just come off a year of international housesitting together. Because he’s a writer, too, and a meditator, we’re basically the Swiss Guard over each other's solitude. It's one of the things I value and appreciate most in my life.

Digital Boundaries

I've also worked hard over the years to set boundaries with tech.

I keep my phone on airplane mode while I'm writing - and not even in my writing space, as a lot of research has shown that even the presence of a phone is distracting.

To that end, I don't have news  or social media notifications on my phone.

I set an alarm for the one or two times a day I intend to post on social (more now, though, which I have to be very intentional about - it's easy to fall down the rabbit hole).

Inever answer my phone when it rings - I let it go to voicemail and call back when I'm not writing. I make sure that I budget the time, too--I know who the chatty Cathies in my circle are. These are just a few of the ways I've set my own boundaries - and it certainly works. Though these methods are arguably easier for someone without children than for someone without, all too often I see writers with kids make the mistake of using that excuse as a blanket reason for why you "can't write." There are far too many prolific writers with kiddos to offer up as evidence to the contrary. (Obviously we hold space when you don't have a partner's support, health issues, massive financial strain, elderly parents, etc. But if you add up all the time you spend on your phone or unnecessarily checking email or bingeing Netflix, we can likely agree there are pockets of time to write). 

Not everyone has had the chance to test run the quarantine life or have years of setting boundaries, though. There may be a lot of tension at home right now. Think about what you need. What the fair expectations are. Then communicate that. And take good care of yourself while you're at it. 

Mindful Social Media

Recognize that when you go down the social media rabbit hole, that's really valuable time away from writing. Be intentional and only check at certain times of the day. Turn of notifications. Keep the TV off. Have a healthy relationship to texting and calling. Of course you want to be in touch with your loved ones and you want to be safe, healthy, and aware. Recognize when you're using social media as a way to procrastinate or have fallen into a kind of habit energy. Keep a sense of whether or not you're sliding into an unhealthy, addictive relationship with your tech and the Web. 

Straight Spine, Open Heart

In meditation we talk about posture as a straight spine with an open front. In your relationship to yourself and others, consider ways you can have a straight spine (healthy boundaries and personal discipline, mindfulness, and intentionality) and an open heart (recognizing how tough it is for everyone - and you - right now, and finding ways to be loving and kind and compassionate....while also holding your personal line).

For those of you who are in caregiving roles, it can be all too easy to be zapped of every second of personal time and space. Be aware of feelings of guilt or of allowing other people's drama to become yours. Be there for your loved ones and recognize that of course more is expected of all of us now. But you can love them and still say no. You don't have to answer the phone every time it rings. You don't have to text back immediately. 

My advice is to have a conversation with those you are closest to, the ones who will expect your time and energy. Set your boundaries, give them some love, then hold the line. 

PSA: You will have needy friends and family members who are not writers and so have much more time to call and text you. They'll want to worry out loud. They'll want to share the latest thing they saw about the virus on Twitter. Community and connection are vital more than ever before and so OF COURSE you want to keep connecting. But. Be mindful of the time suck involved. Be mindful of when someone is just bored and dialing you up compared to when they actually need help and are in crisis. Get intentional about family/friend check-ins: Are there specific times you can jump on the phone? Could you do Zoom lunch dates? Only check and respond to texts at certain times of the day?

My Homebound Resources

I created a page on my website for writers on my website. 

Here you’ll find:

The link for the free weekly Zoom calls (as well as recording of past calls) that I’m doing for the first four weeks of social distancing.

The Flow Lab sneak peek download, which includes a writing sign-in sheet for your writing cave and a Do Not Disturb doorknob sign, as well as my best practices for setting boundaries around your creativity so you can have a sustainable and flourishing writing practice.

Helpful blog posts for mindful ways to be in relationship to your creativity, especially now.

Q & A dialogue with tips for writing during social distancing.

A few helpful meditations that you can download and begin working with right now.


I’ve been digging this Norwegian proverb, which is wonderfully mindful and some serious real talk:

“Either it will be okay, or it will pass.”

Hold fast, camerados.