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...

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.

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Sports Psychology For Writers

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

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

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

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

Changing your Habit Energy

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

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

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

She asks this all-important question:

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

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

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

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

Success: Focus on Process, Not Outcome

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

— Lauren Johnson, Yankees sports psychologist

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

We need to focus on PROCESS rather than OUTCOME.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Example: Focusing on Outcome

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

Either….

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

OR

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

Here’s what happens if you focus on process

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

Either…

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

OR

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

OR

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

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

Engaging In A ”Biology of Courage”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Meeting The Moment: “Threat Mindset vs Challenge Mindset”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Revising Your Identity

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

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

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

- What kind of person do you want to be?

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

Then, it’s simple math:

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

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

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

— Lauren Johnson, Yankees sports psychologist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Desire Mapping: Goal Setting From The Inside Out

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

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

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

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

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

Example:

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

Explore:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your Daily Check-In

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

1. What did I do well today?

2. What can I improve?

3. What did I learn?

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

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

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

Now, go do it.