“Press on, my sisters. ”
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.
