Process

It's Time For A Breakthrough

You can’t use up creativity. The more you use, the more you have.

— Maya Angelou
 

We talk a lot in this Lotus & Pen space about mental hygiene and mindfulness and how to care for yourself in and out of the writer's seat.


One form of care I know to be essential is that, no matter how busy life gets, we need ways to continually be challenging and growing as writers. 


I'm not talking about taking another class or reading another craft book - good things, yes (I am an MFA professor, after all); in engaging that way, we're often just stuffing our heads with more information, when what we need is


s p a c i o u s n e s s. 


What would it look like to grow without picking up another book, taking another class, listening to another podcast? 
My friend Minna has taken to using the term "low-key" when talking about hang-outs. They do this to signal an understanding that we are all exhausted and that spending time together doesn't have to be a whole thing. We can just low-key, low-stakes hang out. 


And, so, in that spirit, I want to share some low-key ways that you can grow this upcoming fall season, ways that you can catch that back-to-school energy but avoid the sometimes manic panic that comes with setting impossible deadlines for yourself. (Such as, I will finish this book I've barely started by Christmas. That kind of thing). 
 

 
 

Breakthrough sessions look different for every writer because it depends on why they want to do 1:1 work in the first place. For some, it's a space where we're looking to build up their confidence after a tough writing season, or to get them into a strong writing habit that works for their life. For others, it's about cracking the code on a project: lots of brainstorming, exercises from me, generative work. Others may be struggling with the inner critic or on the verge of giving up or not certain how to navigate a project that is throwing them into an emotional tail-spin.


Often, writers schedule these calls because they are tired of breaking promises to themselves, of watching yet another year slip by where the writing just...didn't happen. By the end of our time together, we've done the work to get them back on track. 


Whatever the reason, I make sure that our call includes lots of exploratory work they can do on their own. Homework! Because I'm a nerd.


Below are some of the generative activities that came out of recent 1:1 Breakthrough Calls with writers. Take what's useful and leave the rest. 

 

One writer wanted to "foster delight" in her writing practice while she's working on a painful memoir. She happens to be very curious about middle grade despite being a literary author, so we came up with a reading list of middle grade books and gave her permission to take breaks from the memoir to explore playing around with a middle grade story. 

 

  • This same writer needed support in and out of the writer's seat because working on personal and traumatic material is deeply activating. I shared several sections of a curriculum I wrote for UCLA on building a mindful self-compassion toolbox when writing trauma. These include mindfulness, meditation, and writing practice. 

 

  • One writer I did an editorial critique for discovered in our call that he might have Complex PTSD. This came out of my notes that the protagonist presented this way, but that we didn't know where this came from. I suggested he read Arielle Schwartz's fantastic primer, A Practical Guide to Complex PTSD. I'm not able to diagnose him, but, armed with this knowledge, he can now bring this possibility to a helping pro AND deepen his character on the page by understanding her mental health landscape. 

 

  • This same writer wasn't sure how to do this work of building the complex PTSD of his character's background, so I forwarded him my Story Genius Cheat Sheet, which shares some great side-writing exercises from that book. Of course, he also has my Unlock workbook and 31 Days of Writing workbook

 

  • A writer I've been working with for years who has a very strong practice was recently hit with several health issues and has found it very difficult to focus at home. We talked about how she might spend a couple days a week at a co-working space or coffeehouse, but that doesn't work for her. What we landed on was deepening her mindfulness practice and using labeling to help her be aware of her habit energy. When a package is delivered, she doesn't need to get up and get it right away, as others in the home can do that. So when the urge to get up comes over her, she can label this, "Package." Just that simple action breaks her out of knee-jerk reactions to outside stimuli that unnecessarily take her from her writing. We combined that with a phrase that really helps her that she wrote on a post-it above her desk to stay focused on her goal of finishing this revision. 

 

  • Another writer who's working on a memoir is really uncertain as to whether it's actually a memoir or non-fiction. Over four Breakthrough calls, we've done a multitude of exercises to figure out what the book she wants to read is, articulating what she wants to say and who her audience is, and looking at different kinds of structures she might use. We looked at the concept of psychic distance, interrogating all the threads of her story, and sought out guiding metaphors. This involved studying her comp titles, writing an annotated bibliography, and writing the jacket copy, lots of side-writing exercises that I curated for her, some RAIN meditation to support her in this difficult work, and more. 

 

  • Another writer is working on a new project and re-considering her process. She got stuck on a particular chapter, so we looked at what might be behind that. We realized she was telling herself a story that she's wasted time since having her child and worked on ways to reframe that story so that she can see all the amazing things she has done in that time, the wisdom she's accrued, and how all of that is supporting this current project. We created what I call a "proof pudding" list and she's beginning to interview herself (as though she were being interviewed by the Times) to practice articulating her project, how she got unstuck (this allows her to workshop ways she might actually break through in this chapter), and to send subtle signals to her unconscious that she's got this. We complemented this work with some loving-kindness practice. 


These are just a few of the writers I've been working with recently - I could share so many more examples of all the unique ways writers and I roll up our sleeves to look at their individual concerns. This kind of 1:1 support is so essential for writers. Remember, we are an apprenticeship craft. And writing is FAR more collaborative than most people realize.


This is the kind of game-changing work that's worth investing in. In these calls, we look at your shadows, we dig into the tough stuff, we don't make excuses. We get concrete about solutions, about reality vs expectations. We seek to understand what parts of you are scared, holding back, protecting you from failure. We also get buzzy and generative and play jazz with your ideas and hopes and projects.


This is the closest thing to writer therapy I can think of. These calls aren't only about your writing or your career: they're about building a healthy life as a creative in this world. From relationships, to community, to personal spiritual practice, to lifestyles that support your mental health and creativity. 


If this sounds like something you need this fall....you know where to find me!

 
 

For those of you who are committed to getting a lot of writing done in this season, I thought it'd be fun to share Ursula Le Guin's writing schedule. Note that she has three hours for preparing and eating dinner and that she gets silly after hours!


Making time to care for yourself, spend time with your loved ones, and "be very stupid" is just as important as getting that writing in.


I also like that she thinks in bed for a solid 45 minutes. That's a cool process! And that she eats lots of breakfast and spends two hours on reading and music. Obviously there is no childcare here or day job, but it's a joy to see how full she allowed her life to be, isn't it? 

 
 

Here’s to joy and breakthroughs and many, many words!


Download Your Get Clear 2024 Workbook

 

It's here!!!
 

I had so much fun re-working the workbook for 2024. There's a little something for everyone and I hope this helps you as you prepare for the New Year. Inside you'll find:

 

  • A brand new tarot spread for the tarot card for 2024: STRENGTH

  • Juicy questions to excavate your lessons from 2023

  • Word-of-the year explorations to home in how you want to show up for 2024

  • Additional resources and support 

 
 
 

I went with a cosmic theme for 2024 because I’m hoping you’ll be able to connect to our collective Source of creative power as you make magic with your words this new year. As always, my hope is that the Get Clear workbook will be a space you can return to as often as you like, a sanctuary for clarity, realignment, and rejuvenation. I recommend printing this out, getting some solitude, grabbing your favorite pens, and having at it. A fun soundtrack and cuppa wouldn't hurt, either.

One of the things I appreciate about journaling workbooks like these is that we get to indulge our obsession with words. For me, a single word or phrase can unlock tremendous insight. Over the years, I've gone from hardcore journaling or Morning Pages to more playful explorations: writing haikus, tarot journaling, choosing a cluster of words to work with or finding a single phrase that feels powerful and motivating that I can repeat to myself like a mantra. Just like last year, I've got a brand new 2024 tarot spread for you included in this year's workbook that focuses on the the Strength card. According to tarot experts, this is the card for 2024 and I’m here for it. I am strong is a phrase I use often as I work with chronic pain.

As usual, there's a NEW cache of inspirational quotes that you can use as jumping-off points for all kinds of exploratory writing. We'll also be looking at what your guiding word for 2024 might be, and the intention you have behind how you want to show up each day in and out of the writer's seat by revisiting (or trying for the first time) the Be/Do/Feel/Have Formula - my go-to for instant clarity and empowerment!

I’ve linked to some supportive mindfulness and meditation resources for you, as well. For me, I find that the answers I seek are in the silence. Turns out self-compassion is there, too. Meditation helps me connect to our collective unconscious and my own creativity and deepest needs. It turns down the volume on the world’s noise. It’s where the good stories live.

I hope that 2024 is a year of STRENGTH, connection with Source (or your word for the universe), and a deep send of self-acceptance and kindness amidst all the ups and downs of the writing life. I hope you find clarity here, as well as motivation and inspiration. It’s a painful time in the world and our creativity, curiosity, and compassion for ourselves and others is needed now more than ever. May you be happy, healthy, safe, and inspired.

With love,

Why I Didn't Write This Year

You are not a troubled guest on this earth,
you are not an accident amidst other accidents
— David Whyte
 

Re: My love of naps. Had to share my new mat! 🧡

 

Many of you know how I talk about writing seasons: there are times when the words are available, and times where they are not. 


I have not written for most of this past year. 


I dabbled in a few projects and, of course, have written to all of you. But I just didn't want to write. When I tried, I felt...bored. Not stuck. Just...actually bored, which has literally never happened in my life with writing, except for overly ruminative journaling. The spark had gone and I knew enough not to push it. To let life take its course, to trust that it would come back around. This is what I teach my writers: you need to fill the well, to be open and curious, to pursue what lights you up. Sometimes what lights you up isn't your writing, and that's okay.


I wasn't scared about it. 


Confused, yes. Weirded out, sure. Sad: absolutely. Writing has been my stalwart companion lo these many years. Life was clearly pulling me in another direction, not unrelated--becoming a therapist for creatives--but a bummer nonetheless. After nine books and decades of writing practice, though, I had to allow my creativity to find its expression elsewhere (I had a brief love affair with Zentangles and embroidery) and to keep pursuing what filled me with a quiet and certain yes. 


A few months ago, I realized that a medication I'd been taking for the past few years was the culprit. It made it so that I couldn't feel things as strongly as I once did. I didn't realize that this was what was causing me to not have an interest in fiction or the memoir I'm working on. In retrospect: duh. But as someone with chronic pain, I'm constantly juggling meds and therapies and tracking this and that. As soon as I began decreasing the dose, the words and ideas and - most important - the excitement and desire to write came back. This is tricky, of course, because I take that medication for a reason. 


But I don't think it was just the medication. I believe I was being forced by my body to take a break.


In fact, recognizing that the medication was messing with my flow happened around the same time I started taking naps and realized how much tension I was holding throughout my body and took practical steps with my cranial sacral therapist to address that. I'd come off of writing one of the hardest (and best) things I've ever put into the world ("put" is relative, as it's still on sub). I started grad school again. I bought my first place. I got diagnosed with two chronic illnesses, started speaking again to both my parents, got lay-ordained in Zen Buddhism, and completed a mindfulness facilitation certification at UCLA. My life was full without the writing. But I missed it. And I'm so glad it has returned to me. I think I have more to offer the page because of this time away from it. Absence does, indeed, make the heart grow fonder. 


I write in the margins now, and I find that this is a good place for me to be. 

 

“The Ecstasy of Enough” by Liz Huston

 
 

The margins keep me hungry for more. I'm in the process of becoming a clinical social worker and have found that I work best as a writer when I have a lot on my plate. Then the writing gets to be dessert, and never feels like it's simply fuel to get me through the day. I also think the margins work for me because, when writing isn't my whole life, I'm getting inspired in so many directions and then I want to write about all of it. If all I do is write, I often feel listless and uncertain. There is also a great deal of pressure to produce, even if I'm running on fumes. 


All I can say is that it was worth the wait. My body and mind are ready to write and I'm having so much fun.
 


If life circumstances have caused you to be in this same place, I hope my experience helps you take heart. You might not have a medication messing with you or illness, but I'm guessing there is something - or several somethings - that necessarily have to take priority now. 


There is nothing wrong with you, and you are not a bad writer, if you are a writer who finds themselves in a non-writing season.
 

 
 

I recently co-taught a meditation class with a mindfulness buddy and he shared the most magnificent poem with me, which we - of course! - had to share with our students. I've put it below for you and I hope it hits your heart in just the spot it hit mine...or wherever you need a good burst of light. We worked with this poem at my Mini Cozy Retreat in October and this was just before I had my a-ha! moment about my medication. That retreat was created as much for me as for the writers who attended, because I needed a cozy writing den for a few hours.


One thing we did was to go through the poem a few times - you can also read it out loud - and highlight any words or phrases that are really jumping out at you, then use those as journaling prompts. It's a pretty yummy way to spend a Saturday afternoon. 

What to Remember When Waking

by David Whyte
 

In that first hardly noticed moment in which you wake,
coming back to this life from the other
more secret, moveable and frighteningly honest world
where everything began,
there is a small opening into the new day
which closes the moment you begin your plans.
 

What you can plan is too small for you to live.
What you can live wholeheartedly will make plans enough
for the vitality hidden in your sleep.
 

To be human is to become visible
while carrying what is hidden as a gift to others.
To remember the other world in this world
is to live in your true inheritance.
 

You are not a troubled guest on this earth,
you are not an accident amidst other accidents
you were invited from another and greater night
than the one from which you have just emerged.
 

Now, looking through the slanting light of the morning window
toward the mountain presence of everything that can be
what urgency calls you to your one love?
What shape waits in the seed of you
to grow and spread its branches
against a future sky?
 

Is it waiting in the fertile sea?
In the trees beyond the house?
In the life you can imagine for yourself?
In the open and lovely white page on the writing desk?
 

from The House of Belonging, Many Rivers Press

To your open and lovely white page, whenever you decide to spend time with it...

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, 

 

Befriending Your Perfectionist

When you tell a story, the first person you must convince is yourself; if you can make yourself believe i’s true, then everyone else will follow.
— Raynor Winn, The Salt Path
 
 
 

See that picture up there? That's for you! And me!


I was in my favorite local on my 40th birthday and happened to be in this stall when I made my way to the ladies' room. Some kind soul had written this for every women who goes in there. Women who worry that they're (ahem) getting a bit more gray every day. Women who are on bad dates or drank too much or wore the shirt that shows their tummy rolls or who miss someone they lost or made the mistake of getting drinks with the friend who is hot and will never love them back. Ladies' rooms are powerful spaces and I am always, always in awe of how women have each other's backs in stalls. I've seen so many messages like this over the years. Cheers to us for being the wind in each other's sails. Challenge: buy a Sharpie and leave some messages of your own. Or say a bit of lovingkindness for every woman who will go in there after you. 


One thing these messages do is they tell our Perfectionists to take a knee. A perfect stranger is telling us we matter, we are enough, we are beautiful so, please, Perfectionist, for the love, STFU. 


The thing is, our Perfectionists are parts of us. So when we hate on them, we're just piling more of that rejection and annoyance and frustration on ourselves. This can happen a lot around this time in the New Year, when you have so many goals and expectations and you start to see all the old habits rear up. Let's break the vicious cycle, shall we? 



Because you and your Perfectionist are:

Your Perfectionist and Internal Family Systems



Today's missive came out of a great conversation with one of my writers who is doingmy FLOURISH creative season.Part of what I love about coaching is that we stumble into these gems of deep work, where I'm invited to create a whole structure around a single conversation that can serve future writers I work with. I always have lots to say about the Perfectionist, but this writer challenged me to see the Perfectionist and Inner Critic as separate (for many of you, they are not, and that's perfectly fine). Below is the fruit of that discussion. 



So the big thing we're looking at is your Perfectionist and how this part of you is - even though it's hard to believe - trying to protect you by showing up and slowing you down or causing you to self-doubt. 



What follows is a very simplified riff onInternal Family Systemsdialogue. This is something you would do in therapy or with a trained helping professional, like myself. But I wanted to show you what it looks like when you are able to learn how to befriend a part of you that you might not be very fond of. 



The basic foundation of Internal Family Systems is that we are all composed of many parts and each of these parts has given itself a job, though some parts, called Exiles, are hiding away (hello, shadow work).In this modality, we operate from a place of understanding that ALL of our parts are trying to help us.They might have a funny way of showing it, but they legit think they're protecting you. So that part of you that tells you that you look fat - it doesn't hate you. It's trying to protect you from being unloved and rejected and it's convinced that making you feel bad will inspire you to conform to society's beauty standards so you will be successful and accepted. 



So, let's just work with the idea, for a moment, that your Perfectionist is trying to help you. It's protecting you. It wants the best for you and is terrified that if you aren't perfect, you will be miserable. 



The reason the following work is best done with a therapist or certified helping professional trained in this modality from a reputable institution is because it can bring up a lot of intense emotions and trauma. I don't recommend doing this on your own if you suspect your Perfectionist is connected to something that could seriously dysregulate you. If 1:1 work is not available to you, I recommend first familiarizing yourself with Internal Family Systems -this book is a great start.Glennon even talked about iton a recent podcast. Parts work (IFS) can bring up a lot of unexpected things, so it's important not to fly solo when you go deep with this stuff. Phone a friend if you have to. 



Our goal here is to get in conversation with our Perfectionist, to allow them to be heard, and to get under the hood of why they do what they do.


 

Example Dialogue with Your Perfectionist




You:What are you trying to protect me from?


Perfectionist:Failing. If you fail, then you'll never publish again and all our dreams will die. That's why I have to keep telling you you're not good enough. If you think you're good enough, you'll share your work with the world too soon and it will be rejected and, remember, all our dreams will die. 


(( Notice the language: "our." Your Perfectionist is a part of you, not separate. ))


You:  First, thank you so much for trying to protect me. I don't want to look like a dumbass to the rest of the world. We are on the same page about that. (( Notice affirming the part for what it's trying to do for you. )) The thing is, it's rough for me when you put me down. It makes it harder to write. And I know we both want me to be a successful writer. (( Let them know how you feel. )) What would you rather be doing than reminding me I'm a terrible writer who will never succeed?

(( Note that in a 1:1 dialogue guided by a helping pro, this would take much more time. You'd have an internal room to explore this with your Perfectionist, visualize them, really have a conversation. You'd find out where the roots of all this came from. This is a very amended version). 


Perfectionist:I guess I'd like to be a cheerleader. That sounds more fun. 


You: Would you be willing to cheer me on while I'm writing?


Perfectionist:I don't know if I can. What if it's bad? Like, you're no Margaret Atwood. 


You:Well, if you can't cheer, would you be willing to sit quietly while I'm writing? It's hard for me to work and be good at what I do when you're yelling at me. And I can only get better if I can concentrate. 

Perfectionist:I'll try. 



Your dialogue might be very different, but this is the basic approach. When you befriend your parts, you begin to work together, as a team, rather than sniping at each other like a dysfunctional family unit. 



So it's really about partnership. 



You could enter into this dialogue when your Perfectionist shows up, or you can also do this on your own, after meditation. I highly recommend listening to this talk / guided meditation by one of my teachers, Ralph de la Rosa, a meditation teacher, therapist, and expert in IFS. (A kid randomly asks him a question - this is a recording of a lecture - but this isn't for kids. There's the explanation, then he walks you through a meditation. He's the go-to parts person that I send people to). 


Other Ways of Working with Your Perfectionist 



- Pay attention to when your Perfectionist is silent - this is an area where writers feel a natural sense of refuge and confidence. What is happening in the writer's seat or on the page to make them go silent? Can you replicate that more often?


- When we're approaching the work with an honest sense of play, our Perfectionists tend to zip their lips: they're having fun, and they see that you are and there are no stakes here for them to harass you about - you're just playing, right? It's not like you're going to show this to anyone. Trick your Perfectionist if you have to! Do whatever elicits honest play. The key here is to not trick yourself, but to actually orient towards playfulness in the writer's seat as often as possible. There is something really rich here about ways you can bring more playful curiosity and challenge to the writer's seat. Maybe you like to play games with yourself - get to a certain word count before a buzzer goes off, or have something wild happen on the page just to see how characters react. Maybe pomodoros get you going. I once worked with a guy at a theater company who hit an honest-to-god bell every time someone had a great idea or said something hilarious. You do you!


- Create a mission statement for your book that reminds yourself of your reader, who you are writing this for, and what you hope this book will achieve as medicine for yourself and the world. Having this visibly posted and reading it when your Perfectionist says there is no point to your writing can sometimes help with the Perfectionist


- Self-compassion. How can you soothe, be tender and compassionate toward this part of yourself? I think the parts work with Ralph de la Rosa (link way above) will be so helpful and is in alignment with other self-compassion work. 


- Feel the feelings. Right there in the writer's seat,do some RAIN on-the-spot. It really helps and can take as little as a single moment. (Note: I now have the “A” as Allow and the "N" as Nurture - this is considered new best practices for RAIN, rather than non-identification, but you do you!)
 

 
 

Understanding Your Internal / External Benchmarks



Internal and external benchmarks are the standards you've set for yourself regarding your writing or your WIP. An internal benchmark might be "To prove to my family and friends that I'm a real writer." An external benchmark might be "To get an agent."


Notice that, with these and many other benchmarks, none of these things are in your control. In fact,control is a huge part of working with your Perfectionist.They are the ultimate control freak. Our perfectionists love control and the hard thing is that we don't control anything about our books once they're out of our hands, so external benchmarks need to be handled very carefully. And we also recognize that, at times, we can't even control our books - there are low flow days because you're sick, or the book asserts its own will. 


So when you understand your benchmarks and begin to work kindly and compassionately with them, eventually reframing and transforming them into something that is in your control (such as your reactions or your commitment to your writing practice), the Perfectionist can no longer run you around with these benchmarks, standards you can't possibly live up to. 



This is huge! So, you now have an assignment to begin listing what your internal and external benchmarks are for your WIP. 



Answer the following questions to wrap your head around what these benchmarks might be (or set up a Breakthrough call with me and we'll sort you out):



1. When does your Perfectionist show up?Is it when you skip a writing day, or when you've just written a scene you're proud of? Maybe it's when you read other people's books or go on social (Don't! It's the thief of your joy!).


2. How is your Perfectionist trying to protect you?You might note the time they come up to get a sense of what's triggering their presence. For example, are they trying to keep you from being too exposed, too vulnerable? Are they hoping you won't be publicly humiliated, or that your family won't be furious with you for writing that memoir? Maybe they don't want you to "go there." Mind-mapping this can really help. 


3. Tease out your answers to get at the heart of your benchmarks. What's really driving them?Now, you're going to look over those answers and begin teasing out specific things. For example, if you said you wanted to write the very best work you can, then this next question would be, "What's the very best work? What does that mean?" If you said, "to get an agent," then tease that out. With both, you're going deeper than the surface benchmark. Way down there, you might end up with realizing that both your internal and external benchmarks are related to trying to prove to yourself and the world that you're a good writer. Then tease that out, "What's a 'good writer'". Now you're getting closer to something you can actually have some agency with. Maybe a good writer digs deep emotionally, writes several times a week, and is in deep flow. You can do that. 


The answers you arrive at are your next steps for working with your Perfectionist.You'll be able to bring support, tools, and modalities that work for you so that you have benchmarks that are nourishing and allow you to tap into your personal power. 


Maybe you work with affirmations. Maybe you finally writethat Writer's Artist Statement I keep nagging you about. Maybe it's time to create a real Reader Avatar that you want to heal or comfort or excite with your book. 


The next step of this work is to do the work of aligning with your purpose, your vocation, with an orientation of service.It takes the pressure and focus off of you. It's no longer about your benchmarks, but about putting the medicine of your book out into the world. It makes it very hard for the perfectionist or inner critic to derail you, because it's tough to argue against "I want my book to heal women who have been traumatized by their bosses." Or whatever. 


One thing that will be helpful is if you can articulate where you feel your Perfectionist in your body. Once you find that area, you can spend some time there in your meditation session. Just being there. Being curious. No storylines or judgment. Just breathing into that space and holding space for this part of you that wants to be seen. It's about dropping the story and just sitting with the physical manifestation of your Perfectionist in your body. Somatic modalities are great with this, including the RAIN meditation I linked to earlier.Lovingkindess mediation is also rally helpful,because the Perfectionist needs to know you are enough, just as you are. 
 

 

Your Perfectionist Protocol 



Write a list of all the ways that you can work skillfully with your protagonist. A few ways to begin:

- What helps you feel playful?

- When is your Perfectionist quiet?

- Meditations for support that work for you?

- Create a writer's grimoire for instant inspiration. Keep it on your desk!

- Try some tarot for writers to go deeper into your Perfectionist and how you might best respond to it. On-demand or 1:1. 

- Get into a routine that works for you and shows your Perfectionist you have this HANDLED. 

- Take a walk. 

- Avoid bashing your Perfectionist. Kill them with kindness. 

You are enough. And, by the way, your outfit is ON-POINT. 💜

Yours in doing right by the miracle, 

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 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.

Becoming a Seasonal Writer

 
 
 
Life meanders like a path through the woods. We have seasons when we flourish, and seasons when the leaves fall from us, revealing our bare bones. Given time, they grow again.”
— Katherine May, Wintering



This past August, I led the third quarterly Well Writers Gathering, where we get together and focus on a single topic that will support our writing practice and process in the weeks and months to come.



With the change of the seasons - and obsessive research on my part into the concept of seasonality this summer - I decided to talk about what it looks like to be a seasonal writer.



As Zora Neale Hurston once said, “There are years that ask questions and years that answer.”



But the deeper I began to explore the seasons I was experiencing internally just within a single month, I realized that there is a whole untapped well of information for us to use on our writing practice and process. A little mindfulness for writers goes a loooooong way.



In this post, I’ll give you a rundown of what we discussed, but I recommend accessing my free Well Archive to snag the recording and the lecture notes on my Lotus & Pen Perks Portal. The portal acts as a mindfulness for writers home base, and I update it regularly.



If you’re not a newsletter subscriber, then you can join here and have instant access (plus lots of yummy workbooks, meditations, and worksheets to support your writing).



Becoming A Seasonal Writer



As writers, we often talk about seasons that are filled with flow or those dry seasons that * some * people (not me!) call “writer’s block.” I’ve always had a seasonal mindset when it comes to writing, but this summer I’ve begun to look closely at how other seasons of our lives play out in the writer’s seat.



The big a-ha! moment was about hormones. I work with female-identifying folks of all ages, so this isn’t just about your period. I’ve come to see the HUGE impact our hormones have on our writing practice and how understanding them can help us manage the the ups and downs of our creativity with more skill, tenderness, and grace.

We're digging into:
 

  • How your hormones have seasons and how we can understand those seasons better so that we write when our body wants us to, and we fill the well when it wants us to, and we rest when it wants us to.



    I'll be drawing on the incredible work of the book Period Power and the FANTASTIC limited BBC podcast "28-ish Days Later." Important! We'll be looking at moon cycles as well, or other forms of cycles, for those of you who are not menstruating, and having a look at the concept of “wintering.”

 

  • We'll be looking at different seasons of your life, especially the one you're in right now: health, relationships, times of day, etc. 

 

  • We'll come up with concrete ways to chart our seasons for more data and to get more in tune with our bodies in order to have a somatic approach to our writing practice. 

 

  • I’ll be offering some options for exploratory writing, too.


This is going to be a nourishing deep dive into looking at your writing practice - and those weird days of exhaustion, energy, pain, resistance, or blah - in a whole new way. 





Harnessing Your Hormones in the Writer’s Seat



Here's an example of using hormonal seasons to inform your writing practice:


When I began to chart my hormones throughout the month, looking at each part of the month as a season - Winter, Spring, Summer, Fall - I finally understood (for the first time!) all the swings in energy and flow that has affected my writing and personal life all these years. This seasonal way of looking at your cycle is what the above, Period Power, is all about.


(Again, if you aren't menstruating, we'll look at other cycles in your life and can also use moon cycles to structure your writing practice seasons).


I'm in my "Summer" of the month right now, and both my husband and I have been shocked to discover that - no, Heather is not manic, she's actually just got a juicy slew of hormones that are giving her lots of energy! If you are partnered, it is incredibly helpful to clue them in on your seasons.


Being in Summer means that this isn't a big week for writing. It's a week for crossing things off the To Do list, getting shit done in all areas of my life, and having FUN. It's a week for planning and acting on what needs doing. This is deeply supportive to my writing because it means that when my season shifts, I won't feel like I don't have time to write because of all the things I have to do. It gives me more permission and ease to focus on my work.


Next week, I'll be moving into Autumn. Instead of being confused by the slow-down of energy, and maybe even some blues, I'll understand that this is just how my body works. Autumn is a great time to return to my work on the page, a time when I'm more tender and can use those emotions on the surface to my advantage as a novelist. I'll be meditating with more intention and will feel the affects of my sitting practice on my writing more. This is because my mind isn't racing Summer mind, which has NO desire to meditate, except when I've overworked my energy boundaries and need a recharge.


When Winter comes (hellooo Aunt Flow), that is a week where my body is making many requests of me to slow down. I'm not going to go out much, I'm going to say no a lot, and I'll engage in lots of self care. I'll be writing, but less, and might focus more on reading and filling the well, as well as research and brainstorming for my book. This might be a good time to write more emotional or slow scenes, because I'm especially tender.


In Spring, my energy will be picking up - time to tackle my revision, get my writing house in order, and put all that time I spent in Winter researching, journaling, and resting to good use. Clarity is returning, as well as energy. As Spring goes on, I'm ready to get super focused and dive deep into my work.


When Summer rolls back around, I might keep the writing party going if I'm in major flow and use that Summer energy to get a lot of pages done, or I might put the writing aside if I'm struggling to focus because all my body wants to do is move and clean and organize and run errands and go out - and that's okay! Rather than fighting this energy or feeling guilty about it, I get to see how this time is important to my writing practice because it frees up more space when my creativity can use my time and energy best.




Maiden, Mother, Crone: Which Writing Season Are You In?


I’ve always loved the structure of maiden, mother, crone to look at a woman’s life. What’s interesting is that we can be in one season as women, and an entirely different season as writers! Perhaps you’re a crone right now (we’re taking back this word to honor the elders within ourselves) - but perhaps you’re a maiden as a writer. Brand new, with lots to learn!


Which season are you in and how does that affect your approach to managing your energy and expectations?

 

 Maiden: Think debut and emerging authors. Emerging / new writing, learning a lot, receiving lots of mentorship, early pub days. Debut authors and early books. Much to learn about publishing and writing, even if you’re already a professional.

 

Mother: Think JoJo Moyes, Zadie Smith, etc. Professional paying it forward – teaching, coaching, blogging, etc. Nurturing your own work and growing in craft and story skills, as well as professional skills. Might be very busy and tired, juggling a lot of balls (writing / side hustles / biz etc.)

 

Crone: Think Margaret Atwood or that incredible professor you took a class with who has been in the business for years. This is a time of offering wisdom, but also going deep into your own work. May be a time of rest, too. Longer periods between output – or possibly a very generative time, as the focus is not on establishing yourself. My husband calls this the “peak don’t give a fuck” phase.

 

 
 
 

Other Writing Seasons To Consider

 

Process Seasons: In my signature on-demand course, You Have A Process, we look at the individual parts of your process, the mini seasons within a project, or even within a single writing day or week. This course also includes looking at your revision process. You can check it out here.

 

Story Stage: Planning / Dreaming, Early Drafting, Dedicated Drafting, Revising, Polishing, Finish / Submit

 

Career Stage: Emerging, Active (submitting), Professional (published)

 


Taking Stock of Your Seasons


Seasons can be literal - the four seasons, for example - but there are so many other kinds of seasons we go through in life.


As a seasonal writer, you’ll want to look at seasons of your body as well as any other seasons with work / life / family that you experience. How you flow and work in the writer’s seat can be deeply impacted by what’s happening in your individual seasons. Below are a few to think about, but include any that are specific to you or your community.

  • The 4 Seasons

  • Parts of the day / week

  • Life Season: maiden / mother / crone

  • Hormone Cycles (menstruation / perimenopause / menopause / post-menopause)

  • Work / School Seasons

  • Caretaking / Parenting Seasons

  • Health Cycles (especially important for those dealing with chronic pain, mental health / health diagnoses, pregnancy, injury, etc.)

  • Moon Cycles

  • Spiritual Seasons (Ramadan, Lent, Zen Practice Periods, etc.)

  • Druid Calendar of the Year

  • Emotional Cycles: Grief, Seasonal Depression, Bi-polar seasons etc.

  • Financial Cycles: Ebb or Flow?

  • Learning Seasons

  • Wound / Scar (Write from the wound, edit from the scar)


Your Period Seasons In The Writer’s Seat

*See Period Power (Maisie Hill)

Winter: A tender-time. It’s a good time to rest and fill the well. You might be writing in bed, but it could be good for very emotional or quiet work on your book. Also a good time for journaling, exploring, side-writing, dipping into a course or craft book, etc. A time say NO more often.

 

Spring: This is a time for taking risks on the page, getting curious and playful. Trying things out and not worrying if they don’t work. Great for drafting, revising, as well as big visionary work for your career and writing practice. It’s a time to say YES.

 

Summer: Lots of energy – possibly for drafting, or for getting lots marked off your to-do list outside the writer’s seat so you can enjoy deep dives when you’re in other seasons. A time to say YES!

 

Fall: Good for editing and getting really focused. You’re slowing down, which means you have more time for your writing. A time to say NO more often.


Change will not stop happening. The only thing we can control is our response.
— Katherine May
 
 

Working with Changing Seasons

In my example above where I used my menstrual cycle, you can see how skillful it is to plan your creative life around your seasons - especially when those seasons are related to your physical or mental health.

Here’s another example: If I’m working with a writer who is Bipolar, then we immediately begin to look at how the swings they experience affect their writing. I’m not a mental health professional, so I make sure all my writers have the support they need from someone else on that end, but a huge part of the work I do is to look at the things in our lives that either support or hurt our creativity.

So, if you’re a writer who is Bipolar and in a manic stage, it could be a great time to write or outline. But if you dip into a low state, then, rather than work against what your body or mind needs, we might look at ways you can still support your creativity - perhaps seeing this as a time to fill the well, or to get much-needed rest (which always supports creativity!). Of course, every writer is different and this is a case where a writer needs a team to really nurture the seasons they’re going through.

A few other examples:

You might have a day job that has a busy season. Well, how can you stay connected to your writing during this time without putting unfair expectations about productivity on yourself?

If you’re a parent with young children, then summer can be a tough season to write. So instead of resenting this, we look at ways to work with the season you’re in.

Notice how we never take a break from being connected to our writing practice (though there will be times when you might need to do that).

Rather, we see what our lives and bodies are offering us to work with, and we discern how best to respond to the given season we’re in, working with not against that season.


Lunar Writing

While the moon is from New to Full, the focus is on growing, building, and protecting. While the moon changes from Full to Dark, our work centers on releasing and letting go.

 - Sarah Gottesdiener's Many Moons

No matter what season you’re in, there’s always the moon.

I’ve taken to doing a bit of journaling, some tarot cards, a bit of a check-in every new and full moon.

I have a little app that reminds me when the moon is full or new - handy! And there are lots of lovely ways you can keep track of lunar cycles.

On the new moons, I think about what I want to bring in for this new cycle. For full moons, I focus on what needs to be released. You can make this check-in as simple or involved as you want.

Journal Reflections

  • What season are you in right now?

 

  • What requests is your body making of you right now?

 

  • Are you in a season that asks questions, or gives answers?

Seasonal Diagnostic Resources

 

  •  You Have A Process (my on-demand course is designed to help you understand the individual parts (or “seasons”!) of your process

  • Period Power (Book and/or Cards) by Maisie Hill

  • Wintering  (Katherine May)

  • Somatic practices

  • Meditation

  • Tarot or Oracle Cards

  • The Window of Tolerance

  • Journaling

I am fine-tuning my soul to the universal wavelength.
— Björk
 

Whatever season this post finds you in, I hope some of the above resources will support you as you move through it!

 

Why Living In Ukraine Made Me A Better Writer

Swallows Nest Castle, Crimea, Ukraine, Summer 2000

 

I realized today that more and more people are clicking on my blog post “How To Write A Writer’s Artist Statement,” and I think it might be because, with the world falling apart on the brink of possible nuclear war, writers are desperate to figure out their place in this, and writing’s place in all this.

So I want to share something I wrote for my newsletter community last week. More private and vulnerable than my usual post, but the situation calls for it.


...Poetry arrived
in search of me. I don’t know, I don’t know where
it came from, from winter or a river.
I don’t know how or when...
— Pablo Neruda
 

One of the first words I was taught when I spent the summer in Simferopol, Ukraine was harasho. It means "good," and when I was there, my seventeen-year-old self had cause to use it often.

The people of Ukraine are harasho.

My friends above - Sasha and Dima (who I had a terrible crush on, naturally) - were harasho. I have to say "were" because I do not know if they are still alive. Dima was a journalist.

It was the summer before my senior year in high school and I was an au pair for an American missionary family. It was an incredible opportunity: I wasn't a tourist - I got to be part of a community of passionate locals (we'll set religion aside for a moment, okay?), who opened their hearts and homes to me right away. It felt, for a summer, like I was Ukrainian myself.

Every morning, the babushka with the bread cart would rap on our metal gate and I'd go out and exchange a few coins for a fresh loaf of dark, rich bread.

At the market, we'd buy sour cream in little jars that came straight from a farm. The local lady at the bodega (I don not know the word in Ukrainian or Russian for this!) got to know the American girl with the sweet tooth quite well.

Big plates of chopped tomatoes and cucumbers - a little salt - on the table at every meal.

Tatar restaurants where we sat on the floor and ate rich stews.

Below is the cassette album cover of some of my dearest friends from my time there. I called them "The Garcovi Family Singers" because they were a family band that easily brought The Sound of Music's von Trapps to mind.

Shura (far left) and Jenia (with her hand in the air), and their dear father, Sergei (bottom right), who shyly gave me a bouquet of flowers at the goodbye dinner for me at their home.

We bonded over Slap Jack - an easy game when language is a barrier.

We laughed. Hugged a lot. And I learned it was normal for girls who were friends to hold hands.

 
 
 
 

I saw my first shooting star in a town now occupied by Russian forces.

I stood in St. Andrews church, the most famous church in Kyiv, and listened in awe while monks filled the silent halls with Gregorian chanting.

I don't have the words to tell you in real time what the past weeks have been like in my body, except to say that there is a constant fluttering of panic. I've spent years drenched in the deep work of mindfulness, but for all my understanding and acceptance of impermanence, this is beyond my pay grade.

Everything you're seeing on TV - these people and their courage - it's how they have always been, and will continue to be.


I want to share an excerpt of my work-in-progress with you, a scene I wrote nearly a year before this current iteration of the war began. When I was writing about Ukraine back then, I didn't know what we'd all be witnessing from far away in 2022, and I'm glad I was able to put these words down before this memory could be infiltrated by Russian troops.

My book is adult fiction about two best friends who are war correspondents under siege. My main character, Dasha, grew up in the Ukraine with her missionary family. I based the following scene on an experience I had that summer in 2000, in the deepest metro station in the world, where Ukrainians are now sheltering from bombs.

I want you to see an example of how your life might flow into your own work, in ways you never could have imagined.

My teen self thought I was going to be a Christian missionary, but I've turned into a Buddhist feminist author who enjoys four-letter-words, whisky, and tarot. And yet that summer remains precious to me: the nesting doll given to me by the family I lived with sits on my mantle, and the carved cedar box I bought from a vendor at the Swallows Nest castle has a place of honor in my bedroom.

I frequently miss the black sand of Yalta, the Black Sea pushing against my thighs as I stumble over pebbles to go deeper into the water. I long for rich white cheese on black bread, little bags of pelmeni you can buy from the ladies on the side of the road. For a long time I was the only American I knew that said "keev" and not "kee-ev." Some of the first CDs I ever bought were boot-leg copies sold in Ukrainian subways, a veritable underground flea market.

That summer shaped my curiosity, my openness, and made my slavic heart sing. Of course it was going to end up in a book someday.

I also want to show you how important it is to let a moment enter you.

To be mindful enough to slow down and look up. I didn't need to be mindful then - I was a kid and no one I knew had a cell phone yet. I was wide awake. The camera I had was a disposable one, with limited film. There was no cellphone camera to watch the moment through. Nowhere to post about it - social media didn't exist yet.

It was so easy to let the moment burrow inside me forever, a memory I have returned to over the past twenty years again and again.

Of course it made it on the page.

Finally, I wanted to address the Pablo Neruda quote above, to show how poetry, how words and story, don't find you - YOU find them. You go out there, you stay curious, you keep your eyes open. It's not as mysterious as he makes it sound.

I confess I feel weird contradicting Pablo Neruda, but writing is not an ephemeral sprite the deigns to visit you if she's in town. Our work has its mysteries, its spiritual components, but I don't think Neruda is giving himself credit for all the ways he's trained himself as a poet to see, to be be open, attentive, curious, and sensitive. He found the words because he was looking.

Upending this idea of process being little more than a wish and a prayer is why I’ve spent the past decade exploring my process and that of other writers. I know that, for me, part of my process is to go out in the world and keep my eyes open, to look for where the hurt is. The bittersweet. What confuses me. What makes me proud to be human. And then to hold it inside until it’s ready to come out on the page.
.
.
.

Now, me sharing a snippet of my WIP is pretty vulnerable - this is a scene that is in a book that is not even finished or sold yet. This moment might not even end up in the novel, but I needed to write it to understand why someone might go to conflict zones to tell the stories of strangers.

Sharing like this is not a thing I do. Ever.

But I wanted you to meet this beautiful Ukrainian human I encountered. To see the place I love without the bombs and Molotov cocktails.

Quick setup: My protagonist, Dasha, is recalling how she came to photography. She is a combat photojournalist. I gave her my memories and she added her own.

 

Photo Credit: stock image, subway in Kyiv

 

Excerpt from first draft of A Correspondence

by Heather Demetrios Fehst, all rights reserved
.........................................................................................................

It took me a long time to realize that I could say something with my camera. I wasn’t great with words, not for years and years, so you can imagine my relief when I realized that it was possible to communicate without using a single one.
 

When you’re a missionaries’ kid, you’re perpetually on the outside. I used to think that language is the number one barrier to real connection with others, and it was true for me then. But after years of forging relationships with people around the world where no one spoke my language, I know differently now. I’ve spent entire evenings with women in the Middle East and North Africa, connecting over tea and babies and other shared delights without ever understanding a word they said.

I’ve ridden on the backs of motorbikes in shared ecstasy over  a blazing sunset with drivers who spoke in smiles and laughter. And I’ve run for my life with men who would never be able to pronounce my name, but could scream in my language just fine. This was real connection, more true and lasting to me than any Brooklyn dinner party or failed first date.
 

But as a kid, I didn’t want to connect. I’d been conscripted into the Lord’s service, an unwilling member of a band of Americans who passed out tracts in languages we were only decently proficient in. (My father once attempted to talk about Bonhoeffer with a young Russian Orthodox priest and it didn’t go well). I resented my outsiderness and my parents. I wanted to be in Boston, with my grandma and Mike’s cannolis and Feline’s Basement. I wanted to be “normal,” which I thought was a thing that actually existed, but now know differently.
 

I was just five when my parents moved us from Moscow to plant a church in Simferopol, a large city in the Crimean peninsula, later annexed by Russia. This was long before most people in the US knew there was a place called the Crimea to begin with.
 

I had a bewildering relationship to the city and my place in it. Even as a young child, I wanted to hate it, but it kept creeping into the cracks in my heart, the kind of light that’s more beautiful because of the shadows surrounding it. My favorite kind of light to shoot.
 

I thrilled over buying little jars of fresh sour cream at the markets from babushkas with faded kerchiefs wrapped around their heads, riding the rickety trolleys past faded peach plaster buildings adorned in the crumbling old world glory of post-soviet Europe, greeting the bread lady who banged on our metal gate with a stick each morning—I’d hand over a few kopeks in exchange for that quintessentially slavic bread, rich and dark, which I’d smother in fresh butter or a spoonful of the precious Jif peanut butter my grandma would send a few times a year.


I enjoyed speaking Russian and Ukrainian and found I was quite good at it. There were trips to the Black Sea, where we’d sunbathe on the black sands of Yalta. Eating special dinners out in one of Simferopol’s many Tatar restaurants, where we’d sit at low tables and gorge on meat pies and fried fish. I worked hard to elicit those genuine smiles from a population schooled in never taking off the armor of Soviet gruffness—good training, as it turns out, for my work as a photographer.


My tutors were kind and I eventually made friends—Ukrainian kids whose parents went to our church. We bonded over marathons of Slap Jack, my American hands slapping against their Ukrainian ones as we tried to increase our individual piles of cards. We watched movies my grandma sent from America and, as we all slipped over the edge from childhood into adolescence, we traded the bootleg CDs you could buy in the subway station for the equivalent of an American dollar—music was another way to connect, I’d find, without speaking the same language.

 

Around the time my chest began to fill out and the awkward lines of my body soften into an approximation of what it is today, I fell into a hormone-induced love with the man my parents had employed as their fixer in the region—Dima was a local journalist, a decade older than me and the object of my adoration and fascination. In a way, my unrequited love for Dima is what led to the actual love of my life: photography.

 

When people ask me why or how I became a photographer, I tell them about the old violinist in the Kyiv subway station that I heard play the summer I turned seventeen. I was heartbroken because my parents, wary of any lines being crossed, had forbidden me from spending any time alone with Dima. My father had insisted on taking me with him to Kyiv on a meeting he had with another family stationed in the Ukraine and I was being very sullen about the whole thing.


I’d discovered that he talked to me less when the old Canon a volunteer from the States had gifted me was against my face, so I was taking a lot of photographs. This was before digital—it was all on film, so I didn’t press the shutter too often. This gave me time to line up shots, to teach myself how to find alignment with the horizontal and vertical lines in my environment. To figure out what was interesting to me. I played with light, discovered texture and depth. Began to notice details. Contrasts. Most of all, I loved that with a camera between me and the world, I was allowed to stare at people and it wasn’t considered rude.
 

We were in one of the lively subterranean markets that filled the Kyiv subway station tunnels when I heard the violin—a lonesome Rachmaninoff refrain echoing off the dirty tiles and slipping past the stands filled with pirated movies and music from America, sliding around the pelmeni ladies who sold the dumplings in little plastic baggies.
 

I followed the music, to where an old man who looked like a cross between Rasputin and Tolstoy stood before a filthy wall where several faded Soviet-era concert posters had been lovingly pasted against the tile. He played with his eyes closed, the deep lines of his face filled with a youthful rapture, a lightness that took hold of his frame and gave it a momentary  respite from old age and patched coats.

My eyes caught on the posters behind him—the face in the black and white photographs was much younger, but I recognized that transcendent smile. He’d been a soloist—and a popular one at that. Today his concert hall was Arsenalna station, deep beneath the Dnieper. Instead of an orchestra pit, he played behind an open case that held a few kopeks.
 

It was the first time my body told me to shoot—as though the image itself had the ability to reach between my ribs, grab my heart, and give it a good, no-nonsense twist.
 

The man, the posters, the case, the station—it was the whole of the Ukraine for me. The Soviet past and my present had become entangled in a single moment, a single image that that his violin scored and my camera wanted to capture and hold forever, a pinned butterfly.
 

I took a breath and raised the camera to my eye.
 

Eight years after my brother’s death in Afghanistan, my subway Rachmaninoff would lead me to a platoon of Marines in the mountains of Kandahar province, photographing them as they fought on what would become the deadliest day of that nearly endless war—and my first combat embed.

 


For updates on Ukraine and a weekly shot of empathy during other seasons, you can't do better than Lynsey Addario's Instagram - she is the real-life Dasha. I love her memoir, It's What I Do.

Please keep Lynsey in your hearts - her life is on the line every moment she lifts her camera.

It's scary out there and I am sending you love and deep breaths,

 
 
 
 

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


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


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,

 
 

Get Clear 2022 Workbook

 
 

A Fresh, New Approach To New Year’s Intentions

Each year for a while now I've been creating an end-of-year workbook to help you gain clarity as you move into the next season of your life.

I don't know about you, but I love taking stock like this, with a nice cup of something warming and the year before me, as yet undisturbed, like freshly fallen snow.

I hope you enjoy getting to spend this time with yourself.



From my intro letter in the workbook:



My hope is that the work you do in the Get Clear workbook will be an opportunity to plant seeds in the rich soil of your creativity so that the months ahead will be filled with a wild garden of ideas, inspiration, curiosity, and sweetness.

Perhaps this workbook is finding you at the tail end of 2021 and you're eager to leave this year behind and set intentions for 2022. Or, you might be exploring this work early in the new year...possibly already feeling adrift, not certain how to correct course. If you're well into your 2022, then this is a great way to take stock of where you're at and where you'd like to take yourself in the months ahead.

You'll notice a lot of plants in this workbook - that wasn't just to make it look pretty. Plants have been my best teachers this year. They've taught me to be patient and tender. To appreciate what the earth gives me, and consider ways I can give back. They've given me a strong sense of place - I'm growing roots in my new home, while also doing the work of reckoning with who this land was taken from. (I write this on Dakota and Anishinaabe Land, in what is now called Saint Paul in Mni Sota Makoce - Minnesota).

Plants have taught me mindfulness in a whole new way and through them I've come to a haiku practice that has brought something entirely fresh to the spiritual work of being a writer. As I've stumbled along many creative challenges this year, my plants have reminded me how important it is to lean toward the light and have patience - growth takes time. And sometimes there are spider mites. Those are annoying.

In this workbook you'll find lots of word explorations to help you reach for your own light so that you can grow, grow, grow. Print it out, grab pens and markers and sticky tabs and have at it. I've also included my writing cave sign-in sheet and (creative) flow tracking chart to help you set yourself up for a good writing practice this year.

My word for 2022 is INTEGRITY. What does it look like to live with integrity as a writer, in this planet's climate? How will I go about doing right by the miracle amidst massive upheavals in my country and around the world? What are things that are not in alignment with my integrity...and what changes will living within my integrity ask of me? And here's the biggie: how can I find joy, sanctuary, and ease amidst it all?

I suspect 2022 will be a demanding, enlightening teacher, and I hope to walk through its seasons with you, supporting in any way I can.

Here's to the next chapter of our story -

 

The Writer's Ripple Effect

Press on, my sisters.
— Sue Monk Kidd, The Invention of Wings
 

If you read this post, I can promise you one thing—and I don’t say “promise” lightly:
 

You will have a reason to write that will get your fingers on the keyboard every day that has nothing to do with publishing, progress (whatever that means to you), or product.

This simple orientation can be a lighthouse in the storm, guiding you in to the shore of yourself, to the full integrity of your practice, every single time.

Some days you won’t need it—you’ll be in major flow or signing a book contract or deep in a get-it-girl groove. Ride that wave to the shore, sister.

But for the other days, you’ll have this.
 

Let’s begin.


Sound Familiar?

I am sick of words.

I don’t even like writing anymore.

Why am I doing this?

What’s the point?

This is a waste of time. 

I’m never going to…

I’m so disappointed in myself.

All these other writers seem to be able to…

I’m so frustrated!

I don’t think it’s ever going to happen for me.

Why can’t I just…?

I’m so ashamed.

I’m so selfish.

I don’t have enough time.

I waste my time.

I STILL don’t know how to…

I’m invisible.

I hate writing.

I hate myself.

I hate that I hate myself.

The world is falling apart, and writing doesn't matter.

My ideas aren’t good enough, aren’t original, aren’t…

All I want is one damn…

I’m not smart enough.

I’m not talented enough.

I’m not lucky enough.

I don’t want it enough.

I want this so bad.

I feel set up for failure.

I am my own worst enemy.

I don’t understand. Why do THEY get…and I don’t…

Publishing sucks.

Capitalism sucks.

Twitter sucks.

It’s my fault I haven’t…

It’s their fault I haven’t…

I’m average.

Why am I always chosen last for the team?

Why am I never chosen?

I can’t get out of my own way.

Who am I to think I could be…

What’ s wrong with me.

I’m so jealous.

I’m so angry.

I’m so sad.

I’m blocked.

I’m stuck.

I’m empty.

I want to give up.

 

I am so tired.

So

Tired.

 

 

I see you.

I hear you.

 

Take a deep breath if any of those words hit close to home. Give yourself a hug.

Then keep reading.

Here’s How to work with those thoughts

All those statements above? Actual words said to me every day from the writers I work with, whether they are New York Times best-sellers, fancy literary agents, lifelong scribblers, or brand new wordsmiths. I’ve said many of them myself, especially in the past two years.
 

So how do we get out of this whirlpool of writer misery? Not only when we have an idea we’re jazzed about or something great happens with our careers: how do we stay grounded in our writing practice no matter what happens? What will get us to the writer’s seat, if not our secret or not-so-secret dreams?
 

Most of the people reading my newsletter are female identifying, which means there is a very good chance that the culture you’re in has hardwired you to think of yourself last.

This is something I know many of you are working on, and your writing practice is a very good teacher in the great lesson of becoming. Even so, when I tell writers that writing is an act of self-care, wellness, and all of that they say, yes yes, but the truth of that doesn’t stick. Because they have been taught to put themselves last. Exercise, eating well, sleep—all acts of self-care. How are you doing on those things?
 

So I began to take a different approach, working with, rather than against, our natural inclination to put ourselves last.

I began to ask: What if we wrote because it was the best thing we could do for our families, loved ones, and community?
 

This has nothing to do with finishing anything or publishing or being any good at writing. I’m talking about the simple act of getting in the writer’s seat and writing words. Just that. Words maybe no one but you will ever see.

Could the ripple effect of having written that day be reason enough, maybe the very best reason, to write?


Grab a pen and paper and answer the following:

 

  • How do I feel about my day, my life, the people around me, my to-do list, the world and myself when I write on a given day?

 

  • How do I show up in the world at large when I make sure to write on a given day? (Note your worldview, the way you treat people, your relationship to work and responsibilities, and anything else you can think of.)

 

  • How do I feel about the above when I don’t write? How do I treat myself and others? How do I view my responsibilities? What is my general outlook?

 

  • Am I my best self when I write—regardless of progress or publication—or am I my best self when I don’t write?

 

If you’re anything like me, you might have noticed that life is better when you write. Even on a “bad” writing day. Some kind of alchemy occurs when you get your bum in the writer’s seat.

 

You don’t resent your kids as much when they tug on your shirt. You don’t have thoughts of burning down your home and walking away when you see your to-do list. You don’t reach for your phone (as much, anyway) to look at other writers’ social media and feel bad about yourself.

 

You’re less tense, irritable, hopeless.

 

Maybe you have noticed that no matter what you do in your life, no matter how many responsibilities weigh on you, there is this one incontrovertible truth:

 

you are not your best self if you aren’t writing.

 

It has nothing to do with publishing, with the state of your work-in-progress, with your place in the pecking order of those who write words down somewhere.
 

It’s simply that writing is necessary for your wellbeing and if you don’t do it, you are unwell. This unease might be very pronounced or it could be subtle, a low feeling that underscores your hours, a bitter twist to your lips. And that dis-ease has a ripple effect on everyone in your life, and, by extension, on everyone in their life.

(Example: You are irritable with your partner / roommate because you resent them and blame them for your own choice not to put writing over housework. Then they go to their job feeling like crap because they just got yelled at by someone they love and so they snap at a colleague….a colleague who is suffering from depression. Then that person….You see where I’m going with this).

 

This is the Ripple Effect. It is the best reason to write. The only reason, really. It is your way of being a good citizen. Your way of, as Alice Walker said, paying your rent for being on this earth.

 

It is how you do right (write) by the miracle.

 

The best part? It is fully self-empowered - you don’t need a book deal or permission to do this. You don’t need followers or even talent.


You just need to sit your bum down and write because the world needs you to be your best self now more than ever.

When I began to consider the Writer’s Ripple Effect, I saw that the ripples looked very much like lovingkindness practice. This pleased me to no end. It means that our writing is also an act of compassion and empathy for ourselves and all beings. (If you’re not familiar with lovingkindness practice, you can check it out here).

 

You sit down at your desk and set your hands on the keyboard. Or you pull out your trusty notebook and favorite pen. You begin to write - the act of writing is a stone thrown into the sea of beings on this planet with you.

 

Ripples begin to form as you hold your seat and write—no matter how good or bad it is, no matter how hopeless it feels, no matter how much you have to do, no matter how unworthy you might think you are. You write and the ripples flow outward…

 

The first ripple is you - your wellbeing. May I be happy, may I be healthy, may I be safe, may I be at ease.

 

The next ripple is the people closest to you. May they be happy, may they be healthy, may they be safe, may they be at ease.

 

The next ripple is those you work with, whether in your job or other communities you are part of. May they be happy, may they be healthy, may they be safe, may they be at ease.

 

 

The next are the random, neutral people you encounter each day—a barista, a bus driver. Strangers. May they be happy, may they be healthy, may they be safe, may they be at ease.

 

The next ripple is the people you will never know who benefitted from your practice. The reader you’ll never meet. The woman whose wife was nicer to her because you were nice when that woman made your coffee or took your order...and you were only nice because you wrote that morning. May they be happy, may they be healthy, may they be safe, may they be at ease.
 

And then the ripple gets bigger: The people who you don’t like very much, who are difficult, who have hurt you and others (this is a biggie, no pressure to get here any time soon). May they be happy, may they be healthy, may they be safe, may they be at ease.

 

Your wider community: the environment, your city or town, your country, our global family. May we be happy, may we be healthy, may we be safe, may we be at ease.

 

Finally: every sentient being in the universe. May all beings everywhere be happy, healthy, safe, and at ease.


Then you put down your pen and go on with your day. 



How nice, that this is enough. That YOU are enough. 

It is much easier to do this work when you have support and accountability. And so:

Here is the registration for our free Well Gathering this quarter.

I highly recommend working through the Get Clear workbook and getting some clarity on your guiding word for the year so that in The Well we can work with how to integrate it with integrity (my word!) in 2022.

 
 
 
 

In Sue Monk Kidd's book, The Invention of Wings, a character comforts her sisters in activism who are up against, well, everything, with these words: Press on, my sisters. 

And I say these words to you: Press on. 

Perhaps these words resonate and you can say them to yourself when you are tempted to not write, to wonder what the point is:


Press on. 

 

 
 

I hope the work you've engaged in with me today is of benefit to you wherever you are.
 

If you need support, you know where to find me.


 

The Resting Season

Practice comes from our body - we receive it.
— Natalie Goldberg

And...it's snowing in Minnesota! The Buddha is holding it down in our backyard (captured by Zach) and I'm happily inside as much as possible, basking in cozy mornings with Circe, good books, and hot beverages. #queenofthenorth

Receiving Rest

This month's guiding word for me and my community of writers is RECEIVE. I have been working on receiving this season, finding beauty in the icicles outside my window, the flurries that whip around the yard, the luscious quiet of nighttime snowfall. In short: receiving rest. Receiving what is being offered - ease - instead of demanding a book to show for all my time inside.

I want to talk about what it means to receive rest, and to receive a place, a moment, a season of your life. As Natalie Goldberg says above, "Practice comes from our body - we receive it."

What does it mean to receive our writing practice in our bodies?

Sometimes it takes a long time for the seeds of a story to bloom. Sometimes, it just needs good ground to burrow in, and trust from the earth of your body that, when the time is right, the words will flower onto the page.

Trusting that the words will come is hard. Preparing the way is even harder. What does it look like to be actively fallow? To celebrate seasons of rest, periods of preparation?

For this month, I've created an audio gift for you that is a combo meditation / writing exercise on resting places so that you can explore these questions on your own, and find rest wherever you are.

*** There's also a yummy writing / meditation practice in this month's Well lecture notes. Click below to access all of this on the Perks Portal. ***

 
 

What are your resting places?

This work with resting places was something we did during the mindfulness for writers retreat that I led earlier this month and I really loved it.

Here are just a few of my resting places over the years:

  • the moon

  • windchimes on my back and front porches

  • lighthouses

  • my husband's eyes

  • my morning cup of coffee

  • the Sahara desert

  • my grandmother's lap

  • Minnesota

  • Bowie’s Starman

  • my childhood bunk bed

  • The Boston Public Library

  • the lake by my old place in North Carolina

  • Little Women

  • Anne of Green Gables

  • my best friend's smile

  • my sister's laugh

  • my kitty's soft body

  • a dark theater just before the curtain rises

  • a blank piece of paper

  • Mary Oliver

  • Sunsets

  • Sunrises

  • My breath



I've been thinking a lot these days about how my writing can become more of a resting place for me. It's so often fraught - for all of us - with the weight of expectation, the inner critic, always feeling like we've fallen short, or behind.



We crave and grasp and want, so very badly, to flow, to write the book, to finish the book, to get the deal. But after that mountain? More mountains. How do we rest during the climb, on the summit, on the way down, and in the valleys between?

Next month, I'll be sharing some of the haiku we dove into in this month's ALCHEMY mindfulness retreat - it was such a joy to spend all day sitting and breathing and writing with our wonderful group of sisters and to share our pieces of writing that sprung from paying attention in the present moment.

Haiku has given me a gateway into my writing being totally fused with my meditation practice. It doesn't ask more of me than my presence. I get to write with true curiosity and a deep satisfaction I haven't found in a long time in such a short amount of words. I can't wait to share more with you next month.


Women Writers & The Challenges of Rest

In last week's Well Gathering, we talked about what would it look like to receive rest, to give ourselves permission to reject the pressures of the attention economy: to set the phone down, to not do it all, to take good care of our bones.

Here we have this season whose potential for wonder is stripped away by packed to-do lists and family pain and financial worries and illness - all in the name of "the holidays."

And who in our society carries most of that burden: the cooking and shopping and hand-wringing and organizing and kid wrangling and the no-time-for-writing? By and large: women. You. Me.

So how do we, as people with wonderfully gifted imaginations, imagine our way into some rest this holiday season? Some delight? Some time to jot down a few words?

One way is to see your words in the context of a gift economy, as a gift that is being offered you, and an opportunity for you to pay that gift forward. To see yourself and your words as an essential part of a larger ecological system that needs you to keep telling stories and writing poems and journal entries - not just to-do lists. A gift that you don't have to stand in line for, wrap, mail, or cross off a list.

This gift is already inside you, waiting patiently under the tree of your heart, wrapped and ready to be opened.

A piece of Robin Wall Kimmerer's Braiding Sweetgrass sums up the questions we were asking in the Well surrounding giving and receiving rest to ourselves, including the gift of our words and our words as resting places:

“A gift comes to you through no action of your own, free, having moved toward you without your beckoning. It is not a reward, you cannot earn it, or call it to you, or even deserve it. And yet it appears.
Your only role is to be open-eyed and present.”


A small writing exercise:


I suggested we all write three ways that we can start, right now, being open-eyed and present. Go ahead, take a pause and do that too.

You Don’t Have To Be A Lone Wolf

 
 
 

In 2022 I'm going to be resting more, and writing more, and giving more time to study. I will still be working one-on-one with writers, but space will be limited, so if you think you'd like to work together, click above and have a look at what I'm available to give in the coming months. Please don't hesitate to email me with any questions.

If you feel a tug, a whispered inner yes, then sit with that. Listen to it. See if it means we need to work together or if it means something else.

What would it look like to build the writing life you long for in the coming year? (Hint, hint: a good journal prompt, methinks).

If one-on-one work is not available to you right now, don't forget all my free resources. There's much to support you, and I'll be here in your inbox too.


I know the holiday season is painful for many of us: loss, estrangement, distance, SAD, and any number of things. I hope that wherever this holiday season find you, you'll discover a few resting places along the way.

With American Thanksgiving coming up next week, I'll take this opportunity to let you all know how thankful I am to be able to share my words with you.

Knowing you are on the other end of my newsletters and blogs and books has gotten me through a lot and I am more thankful than I can say to have you be a part of my life in this special way. I don't take being the recipient of your attention lightly. That you for the gift of your presence, and the opportunity to share. I hope what I give to you is a little bit of wind in your sails, or some light along the way from the North as you keep heading toward your own North Star.

 
 
 

How To Do Right By The Miracle

 
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I was recently on the Illuminate podcast talking about my favorite things…doing right by the miracle, mindfulness for writers, meditation, being in relationship with your writing, Virginia Hall as inspiration for all of us, and so much more. Click below to have a listen! 🎧

I hope it inspires you, gives you yummy books to think about reading, and gets your mind swirling with ways to do right by the miracle on and off the page.

 

Heather Demetrios is a critically acclaimed author, writing coach, and certified meditation instructor. She’s published books in multiple genres and today she’ll be talking to us about her latest book, Codename Badass: The True Story of Virginia Hall, one of the CIA’s first female spies and a WWII hero. Heather shares how we can apply lessons from history to our own lives, how to have a positive relationship with our creativity, and how we can all learn to “do right by the miracle.”

This episode is hosted by Mariam Muzaffar.


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Don't Give Up

 
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We age very quickly out here. I and all the others are about a hundred years old. We’ll never be the same again.
— Virginia Hall
 

Well, CODE NAME BADASS is out in the wild . 🎉Four years of the joy and burden and confusion and terror and wonder and pride and despair and hope of this book has culminated in something that can go from my hands to yours.

I never felt like more of a badass and a dumbass simultaneously while writing this book - and I actually think that might be a sweet spot for creativity.



Beginner's mind + audacity = Badassery



Have a think on that and see if it's true for you.

Below is an excerpt of the audiobook of Badass - what say you? I'm in love. 😍

 
 

Artist Burnout: No, you’re not crazy

I put that Virginia Hall quote at the top because it made me think about myself as a professional writer, and all of you - whether you are published or not.

We writers age quickly, don't we? It's rough out here.

I'm reading William Deresiewicz's The Death of the Artist, which is true and painful but also very comforting, in a weird way. I'm not crazy: this world is getting harder and harder for artists to not only make a living, but to make anything at all. PSA: Don't read this book if you're feeling hopeless or low. DO read this book if you're feeling gaslit or totally flummoxed by the gig / artist / publishing / creative economy.

There is a lot of pain in our community - comparison, disappointment, rejection, dry seasons, highs and lows that thrash us about - but I have ways to work with it that I think will help you too.

One of the main struggles I and the writers I work with share is time poverty. And part of that is because of the attention economy (I'm also reading Jenny O'Dell's How To Do Nothing - highly recommend once you've finished Code Name Badass!), which is why my mindfulness for writers and You Have A Process work is so important.

If you think you might need some support - a call, a process inventory, longer mentorship - it might be a good time to consider some writing support from yours truly.

Part of the reason it's so hard to get to the writer's seat, to stay in it, or to maintain hope is the fact that we do age very quickly out here. The shine is off the apple. Writing and publishing is fucking hard, it just is.

Are You Putting The Cart Before The Horse?

So many writers only attend to craft, but that's actually the smallest part of the writer's job. The biggest part is all the shadow work, the inner work, the discipline, the mindset. That's not to say craft and story isn't hella important - it just means that there is way too much time given to that by writers who don't even know what their process is, what to do when they are stuck, or who haven't set up the conditions for flow and productivity.

Are you putting the cart before the horse?

Here's one thing I know: Being vulnerable and open about our struggles while at the same time holding fast to why we write in the first place and creating more inner expansiveness is a good way to feel a little less run down.

The above picture of me was taken by my husband a few days ago. I'm working on a new book - an adult novel about war correspondents - so we took the Annie Liebowitz Masterclass. He was playing with light. I was playing with trust. Openness. The belief that I deserve a seat at this table and that I am perfectly capable of making my own damn table if need be. The confidence to look directly into the camera and not blink. To not apologize for my presence. And giving us both the opportunity to experience presence.

This month's word is GALLANT and during our free workshop for this week's Second Sunday Well Gathering - be sure to register - we'll be getting into what being gallant looks like. (If you’re reading this after the fact, or can’t attend, you can access the workshop through my newsletter subscription on my Well Archives page).

What would be brave for YOU? How do YOU express courage?

We can't all be kickass spies like Virginia Hall, but there is so much I've learned from her about ignoring people who say no and doggedly moving forward toward that which calls you. Her ending wasn't necessarily a happy one - the no's kept coming all the way up until she retired from the CIA - but she managed to do so much more than she ever would have if she'd settled. If she'd told herself no.

When is the last time you told yourself no?

What would it feel like to say yes? To expansiveness, to time, to words, to stepping away from the burned-out-ness of online culture?

Thank all the gods for women like Virginia Hall, who give us someone to look to when we're not sure if we can be gallant.

Here’s lookin’ at you, kid.

 
 
 

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

 
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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

 
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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.

  • 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!):



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.

 

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

 
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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.

 
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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

 
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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:

 
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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.


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!

 
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Embodied Writing

 
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Sensations in the body are ground zero, the place where we directly experience the entire play of life.
— Tara Brach

Listening to writers describe the actual work of their craft — not the conception of a story in their mind but the daily work of pounding out a novel or essay or poem letter by letter — is akin to being in the audience of a highly experimental piece of modern dance.

Center stage: the writer sits, hands poised over the keyboard. The work may seem cerebral, all of the heavy lifting occurring in the creator’s imagination, but it’s anything but.

Writing as an Embodied Practice

Writing is an embodied practice, where all parts of the physical self align with the mental, which then fuses with the more ephemeral muse/soul/flow that ties the process together.

The language writers use to express the act is only sometimes metaphorical, and often very real, incorporating all five senses:

Butt in chair.

Kill your darlings.

Knock out a draft.

Listen — to your characters, your gut, the whole wide world.

One of my favorite Zen teachers will often say, “Can you taste it?” when she’s dropped a dharma bomb on us, as though truth has a flavor.

One of the most vital parts of my process is to read my work aloud — and trust me when I say this is a highly physical act, requiring copious amounts of tea and Ricollas. (I write long books).

Hook up a heart monitor to a writer when they’re deep in flow and you’ll see a spike in their heart rate. Listen to their breath get shorter, feel their hands cramp and sweat and ache. Watch how their toes curl when they get to an especially tricksy section of the book. Feel their stomach turn into a mess when they realize that, once again, they haven’t found their way through the thicket of their story. Hear the defeated sigh slip past their lips. Watch them get up and stretch their aching back, massage their sore forearms and fingers. Crack their stiff neck.

All of that, however, is just the nuts and bolts of writing, of the body taking up space to do the work.

The best writers are the ones who are fully in their own skins, who recognize that writing is not just something that happens in the head or heart, an alchemical process that is then transferred onto the page. The best writers inhabit their whole selves and bring the totality of their being to the page. What results is writing that is more visceral, deeply present, steeped in specificity.

Here’s the thing: you’ll never be comfortable on the page if you’re not comfortable in your own skin.

And you’ll never be able to breathe life — real, bloody, messy life — into your characters or the subjects of your work if you are not fully awakened to your own life. Read any Mary Oliver poem and tell me I’m wrong.

To get inside the skin of your characters, you have to be inside your own.

And for many writers, that doesn’t feel like a safe place. We’re bogged down by society’s ideas of what our particular makeup of self should be (gender, race, all the things). We’re stymied by what love we did or did not get from the world at large via social media, unsure where the line is between brand and self. Our worst fears are confirmed about how we look or what we’re about when we refresh our feeds, again and again, and — still — no comments. No likes. No love.

We disregard our well being so we can clock in more writing time, giving up much needed forays onto woodsy trails and meditation cushions and yoga mats or bicycles or rough-and-tumble wrestling matches with dogs and kids on magic living room carpets. We drink too much or smoke too much or bitch too much. We can’t be alone. Or we must always be alone. And in all of these spaces, the body is disregarded. Pain ignored — pop a few more pills to make it go away. Stress levels rising — have a glass of whisky instead of a nice long, hot bath.

We wonder why we’re run down, why we’re creatively blocked, why the words don’t sing.

What results from ignoring the body is writers who aren’t awake.

And readers need writers who are awake, writers who can help them wake up too. But when we ignore the body, we imprison ourselves in limbo, a half-life, a dream. This is not fertile ground for compelling work on the page. So how do we wake up to our bodies, to our living, breathing life?

How do we train our wily, wonderfully imaginative minds to value the practice of embodied writing?

Mindfulness For Writers

Dwell as near as possible to the channel in which your life flows.
— Henry David Thoreau

The first foundation of mindfulness is mindfulness of the body. Why? Because, as meditation teacher Tara Brach says, “physical sensations…are intrinsic to feelings and thoughts and are the base of the very process of consciousness.”

Getting in our bodies is chapter one of our whole story.

Without that, the narrative is utterly confused.

There is one thing that, when cultivated and regularly practiced, leads to deep spiritual intention, to peace, to mindfulness and clear comprehension, to vision and knowledge, to a happy life here and now, and to the culmination of wisdom and awakening. And what is that one the thing? Is is mindfulness centered on the body.
— The Buddha, from the Satipatthana Sutta

First, like any newborn creature, we open our eyes. We pay attention. We notice that the tree outside our window is flowering — when did that happen? We observe the way the people around us move and talk and sit — ah, there’s that gait you were trying to find for your protagonist. The woman at the drugstore in aisle five does that curious shuffle you couldn’t quite describe in your last writing session.

We feel — everything. We give ourselves permission to sit with difficult emotions, to interrogate what fear and love and sadness and confusion do to our actual physical bodies. This clarity of our own expression of emotion transfers onto the page. Gone are the clichés of clenched fists and flared nostrils. You now know that anger, at least your brand, is experienced as a crinkling in your chest, as though all of you was a rough draft that got crumpled up and thrown in the wastebasket. What does the wind feel like on your face? What does a strawberry actually taste like? What is the particular sensation one experiences directly after orgasm?

Specificity is the watchword for embodied writing.

We listen — to our bodies, to others. We don’t drown out the world, as writers are so often encouraged to do. Instead, we enter into the flow of it all, then rise above the waves with our newfound knowledge and swim to the shores of our pages, explorers with a tale to tell.

An Exercise in Embodied Writing

This comes from my days in Method Acting - we call this “substitution.” You can use any emotion you wish, but I often choose to use fear because it’s easily accessible for most of us.

  1. What do you fear most?

  2. How does this fear manifest in your body? What are the physical sensations?

  3. How does it disrupt your usual thought process? (For example, does your mind go totally blank?)

  4. Now, what does your main character fear most?

  5. Holding lightly to the physical sensation you experience when you are feeling fear, write a scene in which your main character is feeling fear. Hers might manifest differently, and that’s okay: but see if your felt experience of fear can inform putting her felt of experience of fear on the page.

  6. When you’re finished, be sure to do some of 4-8-12 Breathing so you don’t hold that strong emotion in your body. I like to do 10 rounds. (Breathe in through your nose for four counts, hold for 8, exhale through your mouth for 12 counts. Do that ten times).


It isn’t so very difficult to be all in. To dance your book or sing your poem.

The more you wake up to yourself, to the lived and felt experience of your own life and the world around you, the better you’ll be able to help your readers enter into their own blink-of-an-eye existence.

Open your eyes. Blink, and you’ll miss it all.

Sports Psychology For Writers

 
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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.


“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.

 
 

The Five Love Languages For Writers

 
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Valentine’s Day may not be everyone’s favorite holiday, but—for many of us—the sight of all those hearts make it hard not to think about love. So I’m leaning in for this month’s theme and chose the word DEVOTION to guide us as we look toward deepening our writing practices and moving a step further into 2021.

I adore this word: it’s fervent and filled with longing and depth and it has an edge too—I’ve never known devotion of any kind without a bit of grit thrown in.

As a writer, your significant other is your work, whether you are partnered or not.

You dream of it, you can’t wait to be with it, you sometimes LOATHE it but keep coming back for more. You fight. You make up. You sometimes settle on a policy of detente. But you are MFEO (Ahem: Made For Each Other), and both of you know it.

But what do you do when you and your writing are in dire need of couples therapy? Or at least a better way of communicating with each other. Forget Mars and Venus: sometimes, it can feel like you’re on opposite sides of the universe.

This month, we’re getting into the messy beauty of you love affair with writing, and working on tools to have a healthy, lifelong relationship. I’m rooting for you two to die in your sleep together at the ripe old age of 150.

There is so much I can’t wait to explore with you in this month’s Well Gathering - these (free) second Sunday workshops are becoming an anchor for me already. I love preparing for them, getting under the hood of a word and seeing how it can help us grow in our craft, in our art, in the way we live our lives as writers.

I’d be lying if I didn’t mention how DEVOTION dovetails nicely with a personal devotion I’ve had to my upcoming biography of WWII spy, Virginia Hall. Many of you have heard me talk about how tough it was to write this book—this was the deep end of the writing pool for me and it was only by being utterly committed to telling her story, and to the way I wanted to tell it, that kept me going. It was painfully difficult, but I’m glad I didn’t give up and I’m thrilled with how it turned out.

This is a more obvious reward for devotion—an actual book on actual shelves, but it doesn’t always look that way.

More often than not, devotion happens in the wings, not with the world watching and golf-clapping, but in the quiet, private spaces of our lives.

That’s where the good writing happens too.

What does being devoted to your writing look like for you?

There have been many times when I felt like I’d lost my way with a book or was simply so discouraged by the odds and by publishing that the only thing that got me through was my deep love of writing and reading and stories. Far too often, I see writers whose joy is snuffed out by comparison, self-doubt, hopelessness. To this day, I find bookstores are no longer the safe havens they once were: here’s my best illustration of why it’s tough to go to them once you’re a published writer (and how mindfulness is the ace up your writer sleeve Every. Damn. Day.)

Writing can be an enchanted garden full of wonders, to be sure, but that’s not why writers come to me. They come when it’s midnight in the garden of good and evil. One of the first things we look at in our work is the writer’s relationship to their writing.

Did you know you’re in a committed, lifelong relationship with your writing? Are you a good partner, or are you and your writing in a bit of a bad romance?

When you shift your perspective and think about your writing like a relationship, suddenly you begin to realize, wait, am I bad partner? Am I not listening, am I not present, am I just penciling my writing in? OH MY GOD DOES MY WRITING WANT A DIVORCE?

Breathe.

It’s going to be fine. You two are MFEO, remember?

Love Languages For Writers

If you don’t already know what your love language is, find out here. It’s a free quiz based on the work of Gary Chapman, who wrote the book on this concept. I've found the results to be accurate and - not gonna lie - it's been really helpful in understanding my relationship to and with others--including my relationship with my writing. The 5 Love Languages are:

Receiving Gifts

Acts of Service

Words of Affirmation

Quality Time

Physical Touch

Below will give you a cheeky sense of what this looks like IRL:

Meme: The Secret Nerd Base

Meme: The Secret Nerd Base

 

I learned that my love language is heavy on Acts of Service, with Receiving Gifts coming in a distant second. Quality Time and Physical Touch were way down on the list for me.

Acts of Service is the primary way I both like to give and receive love (consider this newsletter an act of love). The way I show my devotion to my writing, then, is to serve it through my attention, my discipline, my commitment. I make a lot of sacrifices for my writing. I often put it first and go WAY out of my comfort zone if that is what a book demands of me. It tells me to jump and I ask how high.

I give the gift of my presence to my writing because its primary love language is Quality Time. This means that in order for my writing to feel the love, I need to hang out for as long as it takes my story to come alive under my fingers. No rushing. No pushing. And certainly not checking my phone or allowing other people - via social media or texts - to hang out with us.

When I look at my writing as a relationship instead of a transaction for my benefit alone, I find that there's an invitation for more expansiveness, gentleness, and pleasure in the process. It allows me to focus on process, rather than outcome. This shows up on the page with writing that has more soul, because it's imbued with the fruits of this mutual devotion.

 
IMG_4541.jpg
 

Applying Your Love Language To Your Writing Practice

Another connection I made when thinking about my writing in terms of the love language is how, for me, it's really important that my writing is an act of service to my readers. I want it to be a light in the darkness and a vehicle through which my readers can better understand themselves and their place in the universe. (If you haven't written a writer's artist statement, then this would be another good exercise, especially through the lens of love languages). Having this clarity of purpose helps me in a million ways, from which stories I choose to write to how I show up as a writer.

If you're struggling right now and, for example, learn that your love language is Physical Touch, how about trying to write by hand for a bit and see what that opens up? If Receiving Gifts is your love language, consider how you can see your writing time as a gift you give yourself - or maybe buy a pretty new notebook to write all your ideas in. These are just a few of the ways you can apply your love language to your writing practice. And - don't forget - your writing's love language is most likely Quality Time (but feel into it - maybe it's not!), so it will feel loved when you give it the gift of your devoted attention.

Devotion to your writing is a two-way street: if you love it, it will love you back.

Sue Monk Kidd wrote, “Practice until you make it a song that sings you.”

You and your writing—one flesh. The song that sings you.

Here’s to making music together.