A Report From The Writing Trenches

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


Whatever you are writing - we need it.


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

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

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

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

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

Let’s peek behind the curtain, shall we?

The Story of Writing My Current Work-in-Progress

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

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

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

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

What’s Your Pressing Thing?

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

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

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

The Book’s Timeline

I began writing this book during lockdown in 2020.

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


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


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


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

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

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

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

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

Turtle vs Hare

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

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

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


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

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

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


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

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

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

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


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


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


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

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

That was all writing, too.

But, then, some unexpected challenges came up….

Seasons of Doubt

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

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


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


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


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


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


And then Ukraine happened.


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


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


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


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


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


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


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

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


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


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


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


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

laughter.

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

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


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


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


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

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

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

Creating Your Writing SOS Plan

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

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

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

You come up with the following:

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

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

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

Example:

Warning Sign: Skip a writing day.

Danger Zone: Skip three writing days in a row.

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

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

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

Happy writing!

Your 2023 Get Clear Workbook

It’s here!!!!

Rather than write a post about the free workbook I offer every year for my newsletter subscribers, I’m just going to share the welcome letter at the beginning of the workbook, which will give you a good sense of whether or not this offering will be most supportive to you right now:

✨ The Get Clear Workbook Welcome Letter ✨

Whether you're diving into this workbook as 2022 comes to a close or at any old time during 2023, 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, 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. I've also deepened my tarot practice, so I've got a fun all-new spread for you included in this year's workbook that brings together imagery and words.


As usual, there's a slew 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 2023 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 went with a collage theme for the 2023 workbook because I feel like that's what my life is becoming more and more these days: a collage of passions that work together to form a whole, no matter how different they may appear at first. In my second novel, I'll Meet You There, the protagonist, Skylar, is a collage artist, and she sees this medium as a way to take all the parts of her--the beautiful, the mundane, and even the seemingly ugly--and find a way to make something whole and inspiring and meaningful.

I hope that 2023 is a year of piecing together all the parts of you on and off the page to tell the riveting story of your life and your place in the greater story of this planet.


As Sue Monk Kidd says in The Invention of Wings: Press on, my sisters. It's rough out there, but we have our words, our imaginations, and the community of women writers all over the world on this journey with us. May you be happy, healthy, safe, and inspired.

The Definition of Boundaries You've Been Looking For

Writers--like everyone--need some good boundaries. It's so easy to break promises to yourself, to put the writing aside for other demands on your time. And sometimes we need to do that.

But the thing is....aren't you nicer, happier, and more resourced to show up well in the world and for other people when you've done some writing?


If you don't know the answer to that question, then you can do a little test:

Write for at least a half hour to an hour every day for three days in a row and just notice how the day, your emotions, and your interactions play out.

I think you'll see that when you can make that time, you're actually better at life in general. By "better," I mean that you have more presence, that you feel enough inner spaciousness to be kind, and that you don't lose your grip on knowing how short and precious this life is.


But knowing that isn't always enough to say no to others, or no to the busy work, or the day job that encroaches on your home life. So what to do about it?


I've been searching far and wide for a truly workable definition of boundaries and FINALLY got it a couple weeks ago in a class I'm taking at my Zen center.


It's so simple, so clear, and so easy to put into action that I have been sharing it far and wide:

“Boundaries are the distance at which I can love you and me simultaneously.”

— Prentis Hemphill

---

I don't know about you, but when I heard that, it was HUGE. I've already used it in one really tricky and sensitive situation and it worked beautifully. With this, you come from a place truly good intent. No resentment. No need to be combative. No walls and defenses. No uncertainty or guilt. This is because you are anchored in kindness and clarity and thoughtfulness. These things give you courage. It is always so much easier to be brave when you know you are being KIND at the same time, isn't it?


All you need to do is keep adjusting your response until you get to that sweet spot of loving yourself and the other person simultaneously. I love that word, because it doesn't leave room for you to cut corners. The love has to happen at the same time.


Pro-Tip: I have recently discovered that it's okay to go back to the person and change a boundary. Maybe you got caught off guard at first and you fell into the habit energy of a particular dynamic or your social conditioning. That's not failure - it's being human. You can absolutely reserve the right to say later, "You know what? I want to be good to us both in this situation. So what I need is..."


And then you set the boundary. No need to apologize. Because you are loving and that is never something to apologize for.

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.

Client Spotlight: Deborah Crossland

“I long so much to make beautiful things. But beautiful things require effort and disappointment and perseverance.”

— Vincent Van Gough

Why This Writer Will Give You A Reason Not To Give Up

Meet Deborah Crossland and her incredible book (pre-order here)! I might be tempted to eat my favorite winter hat if this thing doesn't get a movie deal.


First off: Not-so-humble brag. I'm freaking proud of the work Deb and I did together. I take no credit for her success because she is brilliant all on her own, but I am so honored that I got to walk side by side with her through such a significant part of her journey.


From initially working on her writing practice and holding her seat to getting an agent to getting a fantastic book deal...we have been through the wars and had a jolly good amount of fun, anyway. I mean, it's really not that often you get to be part of the whole second act arc of someone's publishing story.


I first got to read a bit of this book when Deb took my Writing Bingeable Characters course, which is now on-demand. Then, I got the pleasure of strategizing and brainstorming and plotting during our 1:1 coaching seasons, where I got to help her sort through subbing to agents (and holy shit, she ended up with * the * Molly Glick, aka President Biden's agent, what?!).


Then, I got to hear all about this novel going out on sub and how S&S picked it up in a sweet deal that made this writing coach mama proud.


And THEN I got to be part of her process of revising with her editor and building her brand and getting her cover (see below - gahhhhh). I got to write her a blurb and see her happy pics and send excited texts. All through this, Deb and I connected so much on mythology and spirituality and feminism and family of origin. (Of course she has a PhD in mythology. She is a literal book doctor.)


Sure, I want to gush and celebrate, but I tell you all this with the purpose of injecting some hope into any of you who are frustrated as hell with the state of publishing. I am, too. Those hearings were brutal.


And so I present you with this incredible woman, who simultaneously pursued her writing and academic dreams, never gave up hope, and worked hard to get better and better. Whether it was working with me or Bingeable Characters or doing writing sprints with women she'd connected with in The Well or going back-and-forth with CPs (and taking care of kids and partner and also teaching high schoolers), Deb never stopped. Not during COVID and the big and small terrors and griefs of life. Not even when giving up seemed the most sensible thing to do.


And here we are.


Not all of you will get this particular kind of happy ending.


Deb knows as well as anyone that the fates and furies play around a lot in the publishing world, so this story is far from over. Still, she got the champagne moment, and that's not nothing. It's a whole lot of something.


But guess what? That shouldn't stop you from living a fulfilling life as a writer who believes she and her writing are worthy of the champagne moments.


That worthiness comes from inner work, a strong writing practice, and the curiosity and courage to keep refining your craft: to see your writing as a spiritual practice and as a necessary component of your health and wellbeing.


Maybe our writing is the way we we say the quiet part out loud. And, every now and then, a whole lot of people get the chance to listen.

Y'all, I'm scared, too. I'm writing my next book under a pseudonym (what up, midlist authors)...despite the fact that Code Name Badass just received a lovely and important honor: Septima Clark Women in Literature recognition. I don't even know if this new book will sell, but I'm giving it my all because it's so very satisfying to hit the mark on the page. Whether or not it sells is above my pay grade. There is only so much I can do, and life is too short to do most of them (goodbye, social media).


So, I write. Writing is how I walk through this world. Writing makes me show up better. Writing helps me do right by the miracle. End of story.


Of course I worry about my graduate students and clients, who are facing a future with far less opportunities for traditional publication and may never have the shelf I have in my office, with an assortment of hardcovers bearing my name and another filled with translations of those books. I have been so, so lucky. And still, I'm scared. Just like you. (I also know that, ahem, publishing doesn't make you happy).


All of us are out in the cold.


I'm up here at the cabin, in the literal cold, wondering if I'm actually going to revise like I planned. Because I have Nina Lacour's new book in my bag, some sashiko stitching to do for a gift for my husband, my tarot cards. The cat - wonderful distraction!


But even just writing to all of you right now is reminding me how FUN it is to be a storyteller. And that this is reason enough to keep on this path.


We may be out in the cold, but this space, and Deb's news, and all bookish things - and each other - helps keep us warm. Instead of body warmth, we have word warmth. Which is really beautiful, because success is lonely and there are fewer people to cozy up to that very, very tiny fire.


Thank you for reading this and being a hearth I can warm my writer's hands at. I hope it gives you some nourishment back, too.

On Surprising Myself

“We dare to jump so we can see something new.
And sometimes we do it to recover a sense of what we once had.”

— Bonnie Tsui, Why We Swim

---

In August 2022, I wrote about my new swimming habit in one of my Lotus & Pen newsletters. Because it was one of the highlights of this past year—and something I enjoyed writing about immensely—I’m posting it here as a source of motivation for any of you who feel like it’s time to revise a limiting belief you have about yourself.

What follows is a tale of...

• synchronicity

• serendipity

• the power of accountability

• overcoming limited beliefs

• lineage

Swimming is something I never, not in a million years, thought I'd be able to do, no matter how much I talked about wanting to do it. To me, I might as well as said I was going to be an astronaut someday. (I just write about them).


But, as you'll see in the text to a few of my gal pals below, I contain multitudes! (And so do you).

None of us expected this text to be written, least of all me! I want to tell you the story of how I got there because I have a sneaking suspicion that some of you need to hear it.


If you're in the shallows of your writing life and you're damn tired of it, then here is my first question: Are you listening to what the world is throwing at you?


Here is my experience of how signs from the universe became increasingly noisy and obvious - it's not about writing, but....isn't it?


I've wanted to be a swimmer for years, but I had two small problems: I am irrationally afraid of swimming pools (seriously) and I don't like being cold or wet. You would think this would forever deter a girl from jumping in pools first thing in the morning, wouldn't you?


I kid you not, people - there was a downright conspiracy to get me in the water. The serendipities and synchronicities and hints kept piling up so that I simply could not ignore them anymore.



1. Early summer: I start thinking, yet again, about how I wish I could be a swimmer. But the story I tell myself is that I am afraid. Pools are scary. And I like to be warm and cozy and not leave my house. I live in Minnesota! Who becomes a swimmer here? (Apparently, I found out, a lot of people). Thing is, I've tried everything else, and it all hurts my joints. BUT POOLS ARE SCARY. And yet, here's a fun fact: MN has more coastline than California, Hawaii, and Florida combined. It is the land of 10,000 lakes. I am SURROUNDED by water.


2. I'm listening to an audiobook about war reporters and, when I finish, Overdrive suggests a book I'd never heard of: Why We Swim by Bonnie Tsui. That's weird.

3. The next week, I tell my friends I'm thinking about swimming, but they assure me that will never happen. I agree (I mean, let's be real, I am a cat stuck in a human body), but by the time I got home, I felt a little fired up about proving them wrong. I wanted to be strong, to be the kind of person that would do the thing - not just pine for it and talk about it. I wanted the physical discipline of the athletes in my family, the same discipline I had as a child when I was a competitive figure skater. The same discipline I apply to my writing...but which has mysteriously slipped off the tracks (re: summer, health, etc.) But I couldn't do it...could I?


4. I make an appointment to check out a gym - it doesn't have a pool. But it comes highly recommended and, anyway, I know me: I'm not a swimmer. That's for people who can get out of bed when it's snowing outside, knowing they're going to be in cold water before the sun is fully up. That's for people who, unlike me, aren't twisted around the finger of their fear and ruled by their inner critic, who assures me I look terrible in a swimsuit.


5. But THEN, one of my husband's Zen mentors comes to the house for a visit. This Zen priest, out of nowhere, starts talking about how she used to swim and wants to get back to it. She says we should have an accountability pact. WHAT. This also happens to be the teacher I have been secretly wanting to work with for my Zen practice. Now we have a really interesting point of connection, and, of all things, it's swimming! This conversation gives me the courage to sign up for dokusan with her (a meeting with a Zen teacher). I've been Zen for a while, but was nervous to have 1:1 meetings with the teachers (even though I've had many sit-downs with teachers from the other lineages I'd explored). But..now it feels right. I feel ready. But, of course I'm not going to swim. That was just a coincidence. She didn't really mean that thing about a pact...did she? Maybe, just maybe, swimming could be part of my Zen practice. And it'd be a great way to prep for morning writing sessions and court flow. Literally. Hmmmmm....


6. The next day, my neighbor randomly says she joined the Y that day and had just come back from her first water aerobics class. There were spots open all the time. This woman is not a swimmer. She just felt...compelled. And, anyway, she'd thought I might like it. WHAT THE WHAT. The message was clear: I had to swim. Here was the accountability I needed, someone who literally lives next to me and will get my ass in the car and take me there. She will be the motivation and inspiration, offer the ease of going to a place that is waaaaay out of my comfort zone (and hers). She could hold my hand. We could hold each other's. (This is the same neighbor I walk with on winter mornings, when it's below zero. Get a neighbor who is a librarian and gets your bum in gear and also brings the books you have on hold straight to your door).


7. The next day, I pull a card, asking my deck what energy I would need to metabolize the spiritual experiences I'm having: I get PISCES. You got it - the water sign, also my rising sign. I mean, the tarot always gives it to me straight. It may as well have said, GIRL GET IN THE DAMN POOL. * (the expansion pack of the Spacious Tarot)


8. Yesterday I went to the pool. I got in the water. I came, I saw, I melted. And I didn't even realize it was new moon season until after I got out of water. New beginnings.


At 6:45 am I slipped into the pool and found my way to the center lane.

It felt like coming home.


The teacher never showed up, so the class was cancelled - but my friend and I did slow laps and tread water and laughed at ourselves. I felt safe - she was there, and warm early morning light streamed through huge windows. The drains didn't freak me out, and the little pennants hanging above the water were so cheerful. Older ladies huddled in a nearby pool, doing dance moves and laughing. I favored the backstroke, listening to the deep sound of my breath as my body slid through the water. Gazing at the ceiling as I flowed down the lane, restored to that same girl who used to get up at 4:30 in the morning and lace up her skates in a cold ice rink. Which is water in frozen form. Huh. Never thought of that before. I was still her. I could do this. I was doing this.


By the time I finished toweling off, I was on a high, filled with energy and joy. And I was SO DAMN PROUD OF MYSELF.


I don't know if I would have done this without my friend or all those signs, or the boost of "I'll show them" when my girlfriends doubted me (I love you girls - I know you are very familiar with my need for ultimate coziness and warmth - I doubted me, too).


I'm grateful to all of that, and mostly to the water, which welcomed me back with (surprisingly warm) open arms.

“
For many swimmers, the act of swimming is a tonic, in that old-fashioned sense of the word: it is a restorative, a stimulant, undertaken for a feeling of vigor and well-being. The word tonic comes from the Greek tonikos, “of or for stretching.”

”

— Bonnie Tsui, Why We Swim

Swimming is in my lineage. It is the tonic many of my ancestors have used to stretch their courage, one stroke at a time.


My paternal great-grandfather, Michael Demetrios (above), was a Greek merchant marine. In WWI his ship was torpedoed by the Germans and he was nursed back to health in the UK by a Welsh nurse. This woman would become my great-grandmother. Together, they came to the US and ran a bar called Mike's in Galveston, Texas - right by the sea. Doesn’t he look great up there? Man I wish I could have hung out at that place. I’m also dying to know what the sign behind his head said.

During prohibition, a gangster family took his bar from him (rum-running was big business down there), but sold it back to him for $1 once Prohibition was lifted. (Of course I have to write the novelization of their romance).



My grandfather, Michael Demetrios II, would swim up and down the coast of Galveston every morning - sharks in that warm Gulf of Mexico water be damned! He met my grandmother in Galveston, where she was a Texan beauty queen who looked smokin' hot in a swimsuit.



I learned to swim in those waters.


One summer, when my dad was back from rehab, he took me out past the sandbars. I don't remember how old I was, but little enough to cling to him, my tiny fingers gripping the arm with his Marine tattoo of a Devil Dog. I was scared, but I wanted to be brave for this dad I rarely saw, who had gone to a war and came back with sad eyes. He showed me how to swim in salt. He held his large, tan hand under my back and taught me how to float. I loved having the ocean rush into my ears and tell me secrets. I loved having a dad, however briefly, keep me from drowning.


These days, a war and addiction and many other things have carved a gulf between us. But he taught me to float on whatever the current brings, and I'm grateful for that.


My grandmother - his mother, the beauty queen - taught me how to ride waves, and it was in Texan pools that I learned how to do the four main strokes. "That's real good, Heather! Look at you!" (You have to read this with a very Texan accent).


On the other side of the family, my maternal grandmother was an Olympic-swimming hopeful, but had to quit at a young age due to a serious heart problem. But she never stopped getting in the water. It calls to her, too.


And now we're back to me.



The ocean has called to me my whole life, so much so that there have been times when I wanted to just keep walking, past the dunes, the breakers, and right in over my head. A siren song.


Is this surprising? I am Greek, after all. That blood in me knows the waters well.

Me, in Rhodos, Greece (2019)

So why am I telling you this story, my dear writer?


Maybe not everyone needs to hear this today, but I know some of you do:


It's scary to make a change, to do something that you know in your heart is what you need - even when it seems like there are so many reasons to say no. But I can tell you from the other side that it is GLORIOUS to say yes.


I feel more me than I have in a long time. I've gotten that daring part back, the one who leaps before she looks because she KNOWS that the water will hold her.


The one with beginner's mind who doesn't care how she looks doing the thing, but who is curious and eager to learn and grow. And this makes me feel so incredibly powerful. I've been feeling weak for so long due to chronic pain and now I don't just whisper "I am strong," to remind myself: I feel strong.


If you're longing to get serious about your writing, overcome some kind of stuck-ness, or need support getting to the next level with your practice and craft, then the best advice I can give is to find someone who will hold you accountable, cheer you on, and offer support.


I'd love to be that person.


I've worked with so many writers who were scared of the deep end of the writing pool.


They were certain something terrible - or at least their inner critic - would come out of that drain and suck them down into a black hole. They thought that writing was for other people. They believed their limiting beliefs. And they gave in to the voices that told them to give up. Worse still, they broke the promises they made to themselves to make more time for writing. They kept picking up books, but never writing them.


With these writers, the work we did became a tonic, in the Greek sense: it gave them the courage and tools and self-knowledge to expand, to stretch.


During our creative season, they realized that the water felt just fine, that they actually did know how to swim, and that they might even be ready for the high-dive.


(This is obviously the metaphor that keeps on giving. I will try to restrain myself in the future...but not quite yet. It's too fun!)


So, are you ready for the deep end of your writing practice? I have floaties, if you need them. ☺️

Three Months Later….

Yep, that’s a picture of an early morning swim here in Minnesota!

I actually love snowy swim days because those big windows you see there are where the pool is, so every time I look up from the water I see snowflakes swirling past.

Because of health issues, it’s been a struggle to get to the pool as often as I want, but most weeks I make it at least twice.

I took a strokes class and finally learned Butterfly, but I still love backstroke most. Every time I do the breast stroke, I think of my grandmother - it was her favorite.

My father’s mother, Mimi, passed away in October. It was time—she was in her nineties and ready to transition into whatever wonders await her. I hope there’s a good beach where she’s at because she loved getting in the water. She was the one who taught me how to swim, alongside my dad.

I got in the water the day after she died and swam for her.

We weren’t close, but she left me with this unexpected gift and, strangely, I feel closer to her now than in life.

I can’t be the only person who finds themselves thinking about early childhood in the pool—it’s so womb-like, and the source of so many childhood experiences.

In the pool, I’ve been able to cultivate more compassion for people that have hurt me. Something about those endless laps, the safety of the water—the way it holds you—gives me the capacity to discover depths inside me I hadn’t realized were just under the surface.

Swimming still remains the one thing I can do that doesn’t cause me horrible back pain or give me a migraine. As someone with tendonitis in both shoulders, it’s not always easy, but it’s worth the physio I have to do to stay in the water.

I took Zach with me to the pool a few weeks ago and he confirmed it’s a massive pain in the ass to be a swimmer: about two hours roundtrip for only twenty-five minutes in the water. But I love it and I love that I do something that is daunting or unappealing to others. (Like writing books).

---

Whatever you're swimming toward with your writing goals during this final lap of 2022, I wish you three things:

• Accountability / Community Support

• Joy in the act of doing the thing

• Believing it when you whisper to yourself, "I am strong."

If you don't have that right now, then you know where to find me.


With love and pinch of chlorine-infused metaphors,

Hermit Inner Journey Spread

“If there is enchantment, it lies not in the potter’s wheel, but the potter.”

— Lloyd Alexander

To celebrate autumn and the launch of my first public tarot for writers workshop this October, I'm dropping a little spell for clarity into your inboxes today in the form of a tarot spread that you can use for yourself and your protagonist.

Oh, how I love autumn. It feels like I felt when I took the above picture: I wandered into my favorite children's bookstore last week - Wild Rumpus in Minneapolis - and the store's cat graciously allowed me to take this photo. I felt like I was Meg Ryan in her Shop Around the Corner (ahem, You've Got Mail). I pretty much live for discovering magical places that exist in our earthly realm. Bookstores, the backstages of black box theaters, cobblestoned alleyways filled with unexpected strains of a violin's scales, secret hideaways beneath trees, the perfect book in a Free Little Library....you catch my drift.


But sometimes I need a reminder that the magic I'm always looking for outside me has its source within me.


In fact, the only reason I'm able to find and appreciate magic on Earth is because like calls to like: the magic within me recognizes its kin outside the confines of my body. Writing is the bridge that allows me to travel more frequently between these two mystical realms.


I cherish that Lloyd Alexander quote above, not least of which because I and the writers I know and work with all seem to be refocusing our energy on orienting toward our relationship to our work, versus a focus on outcomes.


We write because you need words for a spell. We write because everyone knows that if you don't use your magical powers, you either lose them or they eat you alive.


When someone's work strikes a chord with readers, when it has that luscious emotional resonance that makes you catch your breath, when it gets the honor of the dog-ear, the underline, the worn cover - it's all you, writer. No one can teach you that. There is no formula. You can't pay for it. You can't fake it. But you can FIND it. In fact, it's already inside you.


This means that the whole point of reading blog posts like this one is to discover tools and resources that will help you access your inner magic and draw it from your soul to the page. This month, I'm sharing my two biggest spiritual anchors that ground my writing practice and process. Both are very autumnal in nature - they ask you to go inward, to roam with shadows, to play with creative fire.


For me, tarot for writers and mindfulness for writers are about leaning into this time of year where life is deliciously spooky: full moons and intuition and synchronicity, weeks where you find yourself drawn, again and again, to all that is mistful and magical.


(Pretty sure I made up the former and it's my new favorite adjective).

---

I had so much fun making up this spread. I chose one of my favorite cards in the tarot: The Hermit, which I always feel represents The Writer. The Hermit is one of the more easily accessed cards because, as soon as you see it, the message is clear: get some sacred alone time.


If you're not yet clear on whether or not some of my offerings will be helpful to you right now, this could be a good way of getting clarity.


I usually receive this card when life has become hectic and I can feel my connection to my inner life growing weaker. I might even be struggling creatively OR I'm in dire need of more time alone so I can take advantage of flow.


No matter what, when you get this card, you are being invited to create inner magic (re: it's not the wheel, it's the potter).


The traditional Hermit card features a figure alone in darkness, at or near a mountain top. Though solitary, it is clear they feel safe and secure. They are prepared for this journey inward: they have their lantern to guide the way, the staff that keeps them grounded, and the cloak that serves to shelter them from the elements.


For me, tarot is a structure through which I can explore my life. It's not fortune-telling or predictive. Rather, I have found it to be an extremely helpful way to untangle knots inside me and my stories.



You can do this explorations as yourself and/or as a character you're trying to get to know better.

For this spread, take out your Hermit card and place it off to the side to guide your reading. Then, shuffle the cards.

*Note: Even if your tarot deck is non-traditional or doesn’t feature human forms, the hermit still has these concepts of shining a light into the darkness, getting grounded on the journey, and finding a safe container to explore. Have fun with what your card is offering up in terms of these concepts!

As you shuffle, close your eyes and hold the following query - or something similar - in your mind, repeating it like a mantra: "What do I need for my inner journey right now?"

OR If you'd like to get into the season, you might ask: "What inside me needs to be explored this autumn?"

When you stop shuffling, keep your eyes closed and feel the energy of YOU move through your veins and into the cards. Then, separate the cards into three piles. Choose the pile that feels good to you. From the top of that pile, place three cards in the pattern above, facedown.

Then, turn over each card, taking some time to sit with the illustrations and whatever intuitively comes up for you as you look at each card.

Note: If you have a reversed card (or three!), there are many ways to interpret this - or to choose to ignore reversals entirely. It's most important to just notice if the card being in reverse feels important, or simply the nature of shuffling. I like to look at reversals the way I was taught by tarot goddess, Carrie Mallon: When a card is in reverse, it can often mean that you intellectually understand the lesson or message of the card, but you've not yet found a way to integrate your understanding of it into your life. For example, The Devil often represents addiction. Let's say you're a workaholic. So you get that card and you KNOW you have to address this issue - the tarot is gently reminding you that it's time to integrate and take action. In the course, we'll talk about all the ways cards work structurally for each of us.



Card #1 (Lantern): This card represents what energy / forces / resources will be lighting your path as you go inward. Perhaps you're struggling to access your creative flow. So this card would be showing you what in your life might help light the path forward back to your flow. Or maybe you are struggling with limiting beliefs and you are taking this inner journey toward being free of them. This card will show what is on hand to help you navigate the challenges of this inner work.


Card #2 (Staff): This card represents the grounding elements and forces in your life that will help you stay on your feet as you traverse this rocky terrain. Not only will these forces keep you from stumbling when you're unsure of where you are or what you're doing, it will also act as a form of ballast, keeping you from galloping ahead and losing steam.


Card #3 (Cloak): This card represents the things in your life that will support, protect, and warm you during this journey. It may be a place to get away, a supportive partner who helps you get the time you need to yourself. It could be creature comforts, like a cozy writing spot or meditation cushion. Whatever or whoever the cloak represents, this card's message will help you recognize the things that are (or aren't) in place for you to safely make this journey.




After you've spent some time with each card, you can check your tarot resources or the Little White Book that came with your deck to go deeper into each card's meanings.


Now would be a great time to journal - you could even journal as you inspect each card, before you turn to figuring out their exact meanings. It's all about what your intuition is giving you, free association, and your curiosity.

Reading for your Character

If you do this as your character, then you might find - as I do - that plot points and backstory begin to bubble up, in addition to learning more about your character.

When you do this for your character, the question is the same, but it’s simply for them, not you. You’ll be looking at the cards and their messages through the filter of your character’s life and backstory, and the world in which they live. There are images that might mean nothing to you, but reveal a lot for your character.

As you work with the cards, you might get specific ideas, bits of dialogue, an image, a sound….write down whatever is coming at you. When you’re ready, you can do some deeper side-writing to tease out even more from the reading. If you’re on my newsletter, then the 31 Days of Writing Workbook is great for this: choose an exercise that will help you plumb character depths or insights and go for it.

Here’s what I learned when I did a reading for my characters as I was writing my last novel, Little Universes.

If you want to do a simple journaling activity, you might consider the ways in which your character is experiencing being - or needing to be - a hermit right now. What would that solitude give them? What boon of knowledge or insight or healing would they bring down from that mountain?

Because I believe in writing from the inside out, I’d take whatever I got from that journaling session and consider the ways in which my character’s need to be The Hermit (or find one to advise them) could offer some plot for the story. Do they need to go off and be on their own for a bit? What would happen if they did that? What obstacles would they encounter? What is at stake if they actually had a good long look at their life and their place in it?

The tarot is the gift that keeps on giving for writers, not least of which because it offers us a chance to get out of our heads a bit, to work with imagery and the tactile aspect of shuffling and drawing cards. If visuals are a big part of your process, then this practice can offer even more for you. Simply working with a deck that matches your book’s aesthetic can help you keep your finger on the pulse of your book.

Here's to your inner magic and drawing it out over the next few months...


With love and fairy dust filled with good words,

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.

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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)

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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)

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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.

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“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.

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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!

The Purpose-Driven Writer

“This uniqueness and singleness which distinguishes each individual and gives a meaning to his existence has a bearing on creative work as much as it does human love.

When the impossibility of replacing a person is realized, it allows the responsibility which a man has for his existence and continuance to appear in all its magnitude.”

— Viktor E. Frankl, Man's Search for Meaning

It will come as no surprise to most of you that I had the words Do Right By The Miracle tattooed on my person.


Nor would it surprise you to learn that I consider this my purpose in life. That which gives my life meaning.


I have a second purpose, stolen from author, psychiatrist, and Holocaust survivor Victor E. Frankl: The meaning of my life is to help others find the meaning of theirs.


Hence, this blog!


And my oh-so-serious selfie above, taken where the epilogue of my new novel (!) happens. (Hint: Lake Superior's North Shore, my favorite place on the planet). This is Heather Living Her PURPOSE.


I came to this understanding of what my purpose is through a ton of work in the You Have A Process vein, including writing a writer's artist statement and working on the Be / Do / Feel / Have formula .


It's not super often that I write in this space about craft because my greatest joy as a mentor and writing friend is to get into process and practice. But! When I feel I have something meaningful to contribute, something which adds to the conversation among writers about craft, I'm always excited to share. I love talking craft with my 1:1 writers, as well as honing my own in the writer's seat. It often takes years of work in the trenches to come up with something I can articulate to all of you in a way that is actionable.


Many of you have already checked out the free Unlock Your Novel workbook in the Lotus & Pen subscribers portal (soon to be revised re: this blog). Some of you have taken my Writing Bingeable Characters course, or were students in other courses or workshops I've taught. So you're likely familiar with my focus on writing from the inside out, plotting from character, versus imposing a plot on a character.


After years of testing out my approach to plotting and characterization, I finally feel ready to put my process of plotting through character to unlock one's novel (whether in prepping, drafting, or revising) out into the world in a more consistent way.

I feel ready because I've figured out the missing piece to this process! On accident!


And all thanks to being a writer 24-7 and picking up Viktor Frankl's Man's Search for Meaning as research for my WIP, as something to help my writers with, and as part of my ongoing inquiry into what it means to do right by the miracle.


Please replace "his" and "man" with your own gender or no gender. I know, it's annoying. But don't throw this baby out with the bathwater!


(Jesus, that's a violent metaphor. Did someone actually do that on accident?)


Frankl's observations and research bear out. To see this in action, check out Atul Gawande's Being Mortal - a must-read for all Americans concerned about aging, caretaking, and navigating the healthcare system skillfully.

“Everyone has his own specific vocation or mission in life to carry out a concrete assignment which demands fulfillment. Therein he cannot be replaced or repeated. Thus, everyone’s task is as unique as is his specific opportunity to implement it.”

— Viktor E. Frankl

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As many of you know, I talk about Unlocking your novel through what I previously called the Keyring of Desire, but will now just call the Character Keys because I always felt like that sounded like a regency romance. 🔥


There are now FOUR keys on this story keyring…I think I might have to develop a collection of awesome keyrings to add to my obsession with vintage keys.


So, grab a notebook and pen, because we've got some work to do! (( Do this on yourself if you're writing a memoir. ))

First, write down in whatever way is helpful to you what these four keys are.


Character Keys to Unlock Your Novel


Key #1: Desperate Desire - The thing your proto knows they want. (The job, the throne, etc.)

Key #2: Longing- I used to call this key the "Unconscious Need," but that term wasn't getting to the heart of this key, which is characterized by a deep, almost existential longing. it is often unconscious, but a highly articulate and emotionally intelligent character might be able to identify it, if pressed.

The character NEEDS this key in order to experience the transformation and eventual healing that (hopefully) comes at the end of your book.

Key #3: Misbelief - This is the story that runs your character, and it's not true. About themselves or the world or others. (You can't trust anyone, no one loves me, etc.). It’s a kind of wound, and it festers. You might even think of it as “their wound.” All misbeliefs have backstories. Your character is likely aware of this, but might not be. More likely, it’s not something they would be able to articulate unless they'd been in therapy for 10,000 years.

and...

drumroll....

the fourth key is....

Key #4: PURPOSE - The best way I can explain this is to say that your proto's purpose (and yours) is what they see their reason for being on this planet is. (to make people laugh, to save at least one life with their art, to bring more beauty to the world, to be a great dad, etc.)

In the early days of my publishing career, and even now, when I talked to teens, I structured my talk around encouraging kids to "live your what." Basically, what is your purpose and how do you live that? We had a scholarship program for a while, and it was so cool to read how the applicants wanted to live their what.


There were purposes like helping to end hunger, becoming a great athlete, inspiring others.


Frankl, I found, did the same thing in his wing of psychology, called logotherapy. His version is a more nuanced way to look at living your what:


Frankl didn't encourage people WHAT to do (prescriptive, always changing), but encouraged them to figure out WHY they do it.


The WHY is your purpose, the meaning of your life.


Put another way: Your purpose (and your proto's) is the axis on which your whole life spins.


It filters into everything - how you interact with others, what you write, what you choose to consume, etc. It might not always be front of mind, but it's there.


It doesn't have to be super serious and high stakes like mine!


I was raised by two Marines in an Evangelical family so I had no choice but to ride or die with my purpose. 🤣


I love this French creator's purpose - to bring silliness into the world. YES!!!! Also, how cute is Dumpster Dog???


What if Putin's goal was to bring silliness instead of chaos into the world? What if the NRA suddenly decided that silliness, not guns, would keep society safer?


One of my favorite YouTube videos ever is of these Soldiers doing a choreographed dance routine in Afghanistan - not only am I happy to have my tax dollars go to that, but I would absolutely love to see war just become an awesome dance off. Is this a silly thought? Sure. But you know what? It makes me smile and it gives me hope. (I know some of you might be thinking this is fucked-up because it's war and these guys are goofing off - I see your point, but have chosen to look at how this video has prompted me to wonder how maybe all Soldiers just want to shake their booty and would do that instead of hold guns if the world would let them know that was okay. And this has led to other thoughts about possibility in the vein of Truth and Reconciliation, another thing Frankl talks about and which is dealt with beautifully in Pumla Gobodo Madikizela's A Human Being Died That Night).

As you can see, I do a lot of light summer reading.🙃

I love how Circe's purpose - to experience her world fully and with pleasure and curiosity - not only makes her happy, but has a ripple effect of joy throughout our household. Her purpose may not "seem" noble, but it helps me keep the lights on when things get dark. And that's really important. It ensures I can do my work, fulfill my purpose.


Isn't it cool, how when you are fulfilling your purpose it helps others fulfill theirs?

---

What does PURPOSE have to do with unlocking a novel and writing unforgettable, bingeable characters?

One of the challenges I and my writers have had is that EVEN WITH the first three character keys, it can be a bit tricky to find that strong throughline that drives your character.


This is because the DESPERATE DESIRE is temporary - it could be for just the length of the novel (save a kingdom) or might change midway through (save the kingdom might become avoiding the pressures of the throne).


The LONGING is, you'll remember, your character's wound - that thing they need to know or accept in order to be at ease with themselves and their life. This is strongly related to the third key, their MISBELIEF, which is the story they are telling themselves about the world or themselves or people that is not true. This story is a wound and it runs them. Healing that wound (key #2) in the climax is what brings them to the end of their journey.


BUT THE LAST PAGE OF YOUR BOOK IS NOT THE END OF THEIR JOURNEY.


This is the thing I realized was missing:


By focusing only on the length of our novel, we trip ourselves up because we're not thinking about our characters in the absolute fullness of their humanity. We are unconsciously limiting them to this period of time in their life.


We also run the danger of reducing them to emotional wounds and desires.


When you discover your character's PURPOSE, you discover the absolute core of their being.


They can be very aware of their purpose from the beginning of your novel, or they might be discovering it as part of the story.


I have so much more to say about this, but truly, this is not the place - I'd have to write you an e-book. Which is why this aspect of Unlock will be a whole new module in Writing Bingeable Characters. I am so so so excited to share it with you all.


In the meantime, I have an exercise for you! I'll give you my two protagonists' Character Keyings in my WIP as an example, but I highly encourage you to read Frankl's book to really get it (the first half is about his time in Auschwitz and, though you may be tempted to skip it, I hope you read it because it really helps all this make sense).

---

Writing Exercise

Directions:

Daydream, do side writing, create a playlist and close your eyes....
whatever you need to do to begin working on defining your protagonist's Character Keys. It’s often easiest to do this on yourself first. Also, don't you want to do this inner work?? It will really support your writing practice and, dare I say, your life's journey as a whole.

You might figure out each step out of order. If you feel lost, check out the Unlock workbook on the subscriber portal. (Click here if you aren’t yet a subscriber.)



Here's my examples from my WIP, A Correspondence, about two war correspondents in a city under siege....trust me, I started this long before the war in Ukraine broke out, but....wow is it painful to see a book like this play out IRL.


Dasha Holitz (combat photographer)

DD: To stay alive.

Longing: To feel like she’s done enough.

MB: That she’s a coward.

Purpose: To bear witness through her presence and photography.


Ina Joss (combat reporter)

DD: To find “the story” - she believes every writer has one and that she hasn’t found it yet. The one she was born to write.

Longing: To die with her boots on, for a story that's worth the price of her life.

MB: She needs war to bring meaning to her life.

Purpose: To pay her rent for being on this earth by afflicting the comfortable.

---

Figuring out this fourth key has really helped when I found myself in scenes where I felt lost as to WHY my protagonists even want what they want.


For example, there is a scene in which Dasha is considering leaving the combat zone. But she is the only photographer left during an invasion. If there was no one to bear witness, then she wouldn't be fulfilling her purpose. This creates good tension - her desperate desire is to stay alive and her misbelief is that she's a coward. But her unconscious need is to know she has done enough. So should she stay, or should she go?


When I discovered her purpose - not just her fears and desires - I knew she had to see the story through. And I was able to give the reader a believable reason, when so much of who she is and what's happening on the ground would make us wonder why the hell she doesn't leave.


Frankl says, "What matters, therefore, is not the meaning of life in general, but rather the specific meaning of a person's life at a given moment."


This is great for storytelling: because your proto will always be navigating the world wondering what the next right thing is, based on their purpose, but also the facts on the ground.


Dasha can't help anyone if she's dead. So even if she decides to stay, she might need to change her mind in order to fulfill her purpose. This decision could have a huge ripple effect on others and even on the war itself. Leaving would involve some massive personal sacrifice - but is that as big a sacrifice as her life? What can she live with? What would she rather die than ever do?


MIC DROP!!!!

Whatever your purpose is - and that of your protagonist - I wish you a creative life full of meaning and a deep sense of unshakable personal vocation.

And if you feel ready to dive deeper into Character Keys and writing bingeable characters (and chapters! and books!), you know where to find me….

With love from the trenches,

Guided Meditations for Writers Under Fire

“
Remember the linguistic origins of the word yearning: The place you suffer is the place you care. You hurt because you care. Therefore, the best response to your pain is to dive deeper into your caring.”

— Susan Cain, Bittersweet

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In our Writer's Circle, the private writing group I lead, we end each session with lovingkindness for writers all over the world. It's a beautiful practice that binds us to writers everywhere, the inter-being of the word community. Every time we do it, I get chills. Before I send out each newsletter, I do lovingkindness for each one of you, for all the writers receiving my words: may you be happy, may you be healthy, may you be safe, may you be inspired. 


When I thought about what we, as writers, can do to keep supporting writers in Ukraine and all over the world who risk their lives for words, I knew that diving into lovingkindness work would be the best, most accessible answer. 

It is the same answer I have come up with for writers working to end gun violence in the US - my husband, a writer, is a high school teacher in an unsafe environment - and for all the writers who are bleeding on the page to end violence against women and to protect our rights here in the US and around the world. The writers who are desperately fighting this virus, holding those who have lost dear ones to COVID, working hard to tell the truth and heal division. 


This work cultivates compassion and empathy - you can't write well without them. It widens the borders of our hearts. It increases our connection to the spaces outside our imaginations and the bubbles of our lives.

 

There are books you cannot write
until you do this work. 

How can your words help articulate what it means to be human, or midwife your readers through their life's journey, if those words aren't rooted in deep care for yourself and all beings, and for the planet we are so lucky to reside on? Lovingkindness can be the foundation of empathy for one's self and all of creation. It is a form of training the heart. 
 

What's happening in Ukraine is horrifying and very hard to wrap our minds around. (As a side note: it's shameful the world didn't respond to Syria and many other conflicts and genocides and war crimes with such an outpouring of love and solidarity.)


Unless you're someone like me, who writes about war (my WIP is about war correspondents, I've written about vets with PTSD, and my last, CODE NAME BADASS, is about a WWII spy), then what's happening globally and nationally might just be too overwhelming to hold. You might feel numb about it all. There is so much we're trying to do to keep our heads above water in our personal lives and the communities we are a part of. I get it. 


But that overwhelm you're feeling? This work addresses it, and it widens your capacity to meet this world more skillfully and kindly. It's tender work that heals in unexpected ways. It is how I stopped hating myself, how I worked through painful relationships, and how I began to understand what it means to do right by the miracle. 


Lovingkindness practice for other writers is a way to create more inter-being within our scribe tribe. We can carry the poets, novelists, journalists, songwriters, playwrights, screenwriters, bloggers, speechwriters, and journalers in our heart. 

THIS IS NOT A TRITE PRACTICE, NOR IS IT SPIRITUAL BYPASSING.

It may seem like you sitting in a room sending loving thoughts through the unconscious collective's highway system is a bullshit response. But we can't help anyone if we don't truly care about them. Your check to UNICEF without your feelings, that donation out of guilt, that feeling of having done something just because you read the news (then shake your head, put it away, and move on with your day)...we're better than that. 


As writers, a part of our job is push against the edges of our hearts and make a little more room in there. In engaging with this kind of work, we are training ourselves to put that sense of care on the page, pages that might galvanize, challenge, or inspire our readers. 


This work will have a direct effect on your ability to carry others and yourself. It will have a ripple effect like you wouldn't believe on the page. It will help you write better villains, and better heroines. 


It will help. 

Below are two guided meditations I created for our global writing community:

Lovingkindness for Writers and Lovingkindness for Writers Under Fire.

If you’re hurting over Ukraine, over journalists being targeted in Russia and Mexico and Palestine (and everywhere), sick over the oppression of writers all around the world, over censorship, over the silencing of indigenous, divergent, and unheard voices from so many communities, sick of kids and teachers being gunned down and women's lives being put at risk by an unjust Supreme Court, and on and on and on...then Writers Under Fire will give you a chance to erase the borders of your heart for writers around the world who are deeply unsafe.

As Rumi says, Your heart is the size of the ocean.

It really is. 

The second meditation, Lovingkindness for Writers, is guided work focused on compassion toward the writers in our personal lives - ourselves, the beloved teachers, dear friends, authors who inspire us…and the writers who try our patience.

 

May this work be of benefit and may all writers everywhere be happy, healthy, safe, and inspired.

---

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Here's something very delightful and tactile you can do as a spring project:

Not too long after the war in Ukraine broke out, I walked by a nearby church and saw a clothesline covered in tied ribbons, each representing a prayer. There was a bag nailed to a post and anyone could add their own ribbon - it reminded me a lot of the Shinto temples I visited long ago in Kyoto.


I was struck with the idea of creating my very own Celtic wishing tree - these are a real thing and I've always wanted to see one.


My neighbor and her kids in our side-by-side duplex, my husband and I....we feel things deeply. So I bought this plant sculpture thing - it reminded me of my beloved Ukraine and of good memories in Russia. My husband said it looked like a penis. My neighbor's friend said it resembled a rocket ship. Whatever. It's now a cool-ass wishing tree.


See all those ribbons? They come out of a bag labeled:


Wishes
Hopes
Prayers
Intentions
Miracles
Dreams

MAGIC


I tie one on before a big doctor's appointment. After a tough conversation. When I read something painful in the news. When I'm worried about someone. When I want something and am whispering that want into the universe's ear.


It's grand and it makes me happy, out there in our backyard. The wind never blows it down and the intense Minnesota weather doesn't seem to cause any trouble.


It reminds me of a lighthouse. And how we can be our own lighthouses in the dark. And shine light when others can't find their way through it.


If you make a wishing tree, send me a picture! I'd love to see it. This is a very tactile way of doing lovingkindness for yourself and others, and the planet.

---

Okay, and this book is a balm to my bittersweet soul - I have rarely felt so utterly seen and now have a term for what I am: a bittersweet gal who thrives in the minor key. I'm not a wet blanket or a bummer or negative: I am bittersweet, which is the yummiest chocolate so there.


I wanted to share this book this month because of our work with lovingkindness, which Cain also mentions as a wonderful practice for you bittersweet selves.


Can I get an amen to this:


"What is the ache you can't get rid of--and could you make it your creative offering?...Could your ache be, asLeonard Cohen said, the way you embrace the sun and the moon? And do you know the lessons of your own particular sorrow?...You must find a way to transform the pain of the ages, even as you find the freedom to write your own story."


Bittersweet is about that, and so much more. It has been so helpful for me as I navigate writing difficult material and a particularly tough time with my health (the body, as the Zen Master husband says, is my koan). It has helped me work more skillfully with - and articulate - my holy fury at the injustices and suffering in the world. It affirms my choice to channel this fury through words and my work with all y'all.


As a result of this season's global events and deep reflections on mortality and meaning - including studying Cain's work - I'll be adding a fourth key to the Keyring of Desire in my Unlock craft work (the current workbook is on the portal, but the new insights will be in my upcoming Writing Bingeable Characters course).


Being a bittersweet type is a part of my process that I've fully embraced, one that results in much better work. I live and create in the minor key - it's what gives me energy, in much the same way that solitude jazzes me. If you are curious about your own process, let's YHAP together.


I feel so lucky that we have this distinct way - words and lovingkindness - to support our spirits during difficult times.

May you be healthy, happy, safe, and inspired-

How To Let The Sunshine In

It's so, so heavy out there. How are you?

I mean, really: How ARE you?

My heart hurts, and I know many of yours do, too.

I've been giving myself some time to rest - my chronic pain coupled with the world and the detritus of life has forced me to slow down. Today, my neighbor and I walked to the Co-Op and then we sat in the sun on the porch and talked and I was wearing a T-shirt and I let myself enjoy that. I didn't feel guilty that I wasn't working on this newsletter or grading papers or whatever.

Sometimes you just need to let the sunshine in. I sang this at my husband this morning after I read the news and he endured it with good humor. I am listening to it on repeat and dancing in my chair and trying not to cry as I write this.


* sometimes * our pain is our power.


And I have finally FINALLY come to a place where I know that love is at the center of that power.

Whenever people said that, I felt like it was trite and insincere. But after years of inner work and sitting in silence and plant medicine and good relationships (and unhealthy ones), I finally understood that at the bottom of EVERYTHING I do is a deep well of love for all of us. And it's expressed in my writing and my activism and my holy fury.


Knowing that I was going to write this for all of you is what got me out of bed today. I treasure this space. I treasure your emails. I am grateful for the chance to exchange words.


I know not everyone is like me, who is certain she has figured out how to save the world at 7:00 am and outlines the plan for her husband while he's trying to get dressed for work. (Sorry, Zach!). The Zen Master listens patiently and then he puts on his shoes and goes to teach teens, many of whom are migrants that people like the governor of Texas think don't deserve the education Zach gives them. I have feelings about this.


But we need to let the sunshine in. And we need to LET the sun SHINE. How to balance light and dark? I'll be getting into that in my next newsletter.


Spiritual bypassing is a big, old NO.



But playing the above song and just jamming is medicine. Find a space in the sun and sing and cry and roll around and pet your cat and tell Putin where to stick it and hold all the dead of Ukraine in your heart and then, then....


Write.


This is what you have to contribute.


This is how you help other people let the sunshine in.


Whether it's an email to someone you appreciate (one of my students sent me one recently and it really meant a lot to me), or a letter you will never send but need to write, or a haiku, or a blog post, or an opera, or a novel or a message in the sand.


Maybe all you have in you is a phrase and a black Sharpie. Write it everywhere, write it on your hand, your mirror (it comes off, don't worry!). Bathroom stalls. Whatever.

Just. Write.


Here is an extended version of the chorus so you can just have it be a mantra in the background.

One more book for your TBR (this link is a great excerpt, so if you don't have time to read, you'll get the gist) - it has given me so much hope in recent days.

I'll end this with an on-brand Heather-Is-A-Buddhist final thought:

I've been thinking about death a lot lately. Particularly my own. It's a good practice in my tradition - it opens you up.

But it's hard. It's hard to know that someday - maybe soon, maybe not so soon - you won't be here anymore.

And thinking about that, it fires me the hell up. It makes me want to rage against the dying of the light, leave it all on the stage, and leave this world a little better than how I entered it.

It takes a while to get there. And there are days, like yesterday, when it feels like living in this world right now is like trudging through treacle.

All feelings welcome.

Just don't forget to let the sunshine in.

With much love,

Leaving the Twitter Nest

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I left Instagram in early December 2021. I was sad for about a day. Truly, I am so happy without it. I no longer am living my life through a filter, watching myself watch myself.

Is it any coincidence that I have fallen into a major flow state since no longer using my social media time suck of choice?

My life is more full of things and people than ever, and yet...there must be a link between being more creative when you’re not trying to simultaneously be a marketing maven. I admit to occasionally looking up someone. I read an article about them, and I dip into their Instagram to learn more. But these are quick peeks and then I’m out. I’m no longer scrolling and losing track of time, feeling FOMO and jealousy and like everyone’s house, hair cut, dinner, garden looks better than mine.

I’m connecting so much more with people one-on-one. I’m taking up new hobbies (embroidery), and cooking up a storm. I love watering my plants and I love not trying to get pictures of them so that I can post them. I water my plants and listen to the Beautiful Chorus mantra album and, if I’m home alone, I sing along. Did I mention I’m writing so much more?

About a month or so later, I quit Spotify. And that led my husband to discovering the most incredible Internet radio station, Fip, which has been feeding my creativity with music I’ve never heard before as well as wonderfully eclectic favorites. We never would have found that without leaving Spotify, which we decided to no longer support due to how terribly it treats artists, and yeah, Joe Rogan is on there).

Here was an unexpected thing, though: in leaving Spotify, I stopped getting instant gratification.

This forced me to be more curious, to go with the flow, to see how I could encounter whatever song was playing. You know, old school, like the radio. In no longer trying to control my experience or mood, some really cool stuff began happening: dots connecting, well filling, a general sense of expansiveness. It was also one less damn monthly fee, one less tab opened, one less thing to do (put a song on a playlist, share it on social, blah blah blah). It also has given me the gift of buying actual music and supporting artists directly.

It feels good not to just have what you want at your fingertips. It’s so much more interesting.

Last week, I left Twitter.

The reasons aren’t so different from leaving Instagram in terms of integrity, but with Elon Musk possibly buying it (more billionaires controlling more things) and how much conflict and hatred and anxiety it sows in the world, I began to wonder why the heck I was even on there. Tweet Delete made it easy to delete all my tweets, media, and likes so that I have a nice parking spot and little else.

You’ll notice that I didn’t delete either my Twitter or Instagram accounts. That’s because I don’t want anyone to impersonate me, but also because people looking to connect with me can find out how when they land on my pages.

It feels so good to step away from these spaces. I know many artists feel they don’t have a choice, but if you dig into the research, you might find the platform you’re on isn’t even that helpful to sharing your work. To be fair, I’m a traditionally published author and that affords me other avenues for connection - readers reach out to me and I guest teach or go on podcasts, which give me a good reach. I also do other forms of outreach that feel good to me, such as sharing meditations on Insight Timer. I love my newsletter, and I think there’s a lot of word-of-mouth with that, too.

But, honestly, even if it gave me less access to readers and writers I want to connect with, I’d have to make these choices for my writing and mental health to flourish.

The Portal

My librarian neighbor recommended that I read Patricia Lockwood’s No One Is Taking About This several months ago and I absolutely devoured it. I rarely say this: It is one of the most astonishing books I have ever read. I’d never heard of the book or the author - here is word-of-mouth power in action! I didn’t hear about it on social media or even saw it at a bookstore (take that, Twitter!).

I don’t want to tell you anything about the book, and I recommend you don’t look it up - it’s so satisfying if you go in only knowing the jacket copy. Don’t even look up the author herself. Just read the book. It’s slim and extraordinary and I not only felt my experience and that of our society reflected so well in how she presents what she calls “the portal,” but it’s also a great book for studying narrative structure and voice.

Here’s a quote that jumped out at me many months after finishing the book, when I decided to quit Twitter:

“...she would drink espresso until there was a free and frightening exchange between her and the day - she was open, flung open, and anything could rush in.”

Mindfulness for Writers

In some ways, being flung open like this is an ideal state for writers. It invites curiosity and flow, openness, and causes dots to connect in surprising ways.

But when we’re in spaces like Twitter, being flung open is terrible for writers, many of whom are deeply empathic, sensitive, and bitter sweet types (see Susan Cain’s new book, Bittersweet) who must, absolutely MUST, be wary of anything that generates a hive mind.

In order to produce our best work, I firmly believe that we must be on the outside looking in, while simultaneously courting deep and meaningful connection with ourselves, others, and the universe. Twitter is neither deep nor meaningful. It’s not worth being up-to-date, it’s not worth buying what we’re being sold. We are not going to have better careers or a foot in the door or a seat at the table in this way.

There are other ways to have conversations, make friends, and network in a heart-centered way. Find them. Or stay in these toxic online spaces at your own risk.

I recommend really taking an honest look at your social media: is it really giving you what you want, whether it be results or meaningful connection (on a regular basis). Or are you hoping for a “someday” boost that will likely never come because look how big a pond we little fishes are swimming in!

If you want to dip a toe in these waters, how about a two-week detox, or even a month? Just notice how that impacts your life.

The choice to simplify as much as possible is opening my whole life up to me. It’s glorious. I hope you get a taste of that, too, in whatever way feels good to you.

Now, to figure out a better relationship to email….

“Whatever it is, the way you tell your story online can make all the difference.”

— Quote Source

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.

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“...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.
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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
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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.

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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

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

• Trust in myself and my work

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

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

• Getting unstuck faster

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

• Enjoying my time with a book more

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

• Grace: for myself, the book, my life

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

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

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

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

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

Dana Elmendorf

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

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

— Alix E. Harrow, The Once and Future Witches

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It is such medicine in these times.

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

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


To your process and meeting our work with open eyes,

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.

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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?

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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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