Anything worthwhile requires constant diligence and practice.
That doesn’t mean it has to be insufferable.
Have you ever gone to the gym, slogged through your three mile run(jog, really the way I do it-oh, and it’s closer to two miles, if I’m being honest) while you watch everyone else in the gym being so focused and joyful about how they are building their bodies? Yeah. It reminds me, movement is a verb.
So is love.
It is often said that love takes action. People need to show their affection through acts of service and devotion. Defining your love language and all that.
The same is true with creation, which I firmly believe is divinely given. Like love. Sacred gifts require heartfelt action.
I used to follow a prescribed method for writing. I set word counts, accountability check ins. I created soft deadlines that were not tied to anything real. Like currency not backed by gold. But my brain wasn’t fooled. Nor was my heart.
I nanowrimoed. I set intentions. I made notes in my calendar, both virtual and on paper. Sometimes these measures worked. Until they didn’t. For months. And then years. Like Max from Where the Wild Things Are (my very first favorite book)in his boat, but not ending up someplace magical. Ending in pointless hours feeling unproductive and empty.
I needed to reset my creativity, my mindset, and my belief system. I needed to shift my why.
I also needed to shift my who. In 2023 I started seeing a therapist. It had been years since I’d sold a book. Years. I’d written a few books that were meaningful and even magical, but they didn’t sell. They came close a couple of times, but then…
In a Zoom with my agent, I tried not to cry. (I am not a crier, typically except when watching movies or reading) But here I was with the person who was trying to help me, trying to keep me in the game. Trying to keep me writing, and there was nothing she could do to fight the constant dread that filled me…what if I didn’t have it in me anymore?
The therapist reframed it for me with a simple question—who do you write for?
Um……I don’t know. Was there a pat answer she was looking for?
If so, I didn’t have it.
It came in a rushing realization that I was putting all of my efforts into writing for editors. For my agent, even. For a sale.
I needed to shift. To writing for readers, sure. But ultimately, to writing for myself. I needed to fall back in love with writing so much that I couldn’t get through a day without thinking about it. I needed to write simply because I could not not write.
There was a time when I took my writing for granted, even when I was still selling. Weird, right? Unproductive, definitely. I used to try to be edgy by saying #writingisabadboyfriend. It became one of the things I was known for.
But I couldn’t have been more wrong.
Writing is the best boyfriend
Because he always waits for me. Because he holds my hand and tells me he believes in me. Because he makes me feel special and seen. Because he knows no one in the entire world can write something that I can.
That’s the thing I needed to focus on. This gift. This passion. This drive.
I needed to bring my writing flowers. I needed to feed my creativity with inspiration. I needed to allow myself to create.
Whether it’s in the grocery store waiting for my turn. Or while I’m driving a route I’ve done a million times. While I’m cleaning. In the shower. On the train. (I sound like a Dr. Seuss book now—-oh my god—was he writing about creation in Green Eggs and Ham?)
Instead of word counts and forced writing sprints, I allowed inspiration to come. When the words came to me, I let it flow. In. drips and drabs and tiny wins, I put those words on the page.
Not like a bootcamp.
Like an epiphany.
I allowed. Then I harvested. Then I was grateful.
Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
After I softened my focus, my process followed suit. Soft is where it’s at, baybeeee!
You can’t force connection. You have to allow it. My favorite tenet from Alcoholics Anonymous is the notion of coming to believe. As in, when an alcoholic finally comes came to believe in a higher power. It is the most incredible transformation. One I’ve had the honor to witness.
One I needed to do for myself.
In an interview in the New Yorker by Merve Emre entitled, Catherine Lacey’s Infinite Regress, the subject stated,
“One thing that getting older makes you more open to is accepting that you have no idea what you’re doing. If you’re doing creative work, it could go in many different directions. I think the biggest mistake that you can make is being married to a specific outcome.”
Talk about understanding the true nature of inspiration. It comes from spirit and not from a prescribed course of exercises that are intended to produce a product. Is there a time for agility reps in writing? Of course. But not during the generative process. Never then.
What actions can you take as a writer to invite the muse:
Participate in any practice that allows you to be receptive. Is it yoga? Meditation? The five am club? Find the one that allows you to soften your focus, expand your reality, embrace reception.
Allow yourself to bathe in silence. Don’t feel the need to fill your moments with words, intentional thoughts, meaning. Let your mind go off into the woods like a golden retriever in search for excitement, fun, novelty. Be Alice and not the white rabbit with a pocket watch and always perpetually late.
Be in a state of constant gratitude. It works. Truly.
Aim your intention toward doing work, not making product. If you adjust your parameters for success, it’ll make the road feel smoother. (Of course disregard this if you have a hard deadline. In that case, grind, baby, grind.)
Embrace your identity as a creative. You are ambition and excitement and so many ideas. It’s all about potential and expanding and connecting. With the words on the page and the characters in your story. With your readers.
Practice being inspired by inspiration. Come to believe….
In the meantime, here are a few of the things I am using for inspo this summer:
What I’m reading:
My gym book is still the same as last week, which speaks to how much I need to step up my gym game.
My can’t put down because it’s so good book: A Novel Love Story by Ashley Poston. It is really fun and imaginative. Who wouldn’t want to find themselves lost in a good story.
My new finding my legs in my process book: The Mobius Book by Catherine Lacey. Interested in the structure of this one and how immersive it feels. Also, I love when authors narrate their own books. Don’t you?
What I’m watching:
Nine Perfect Strangers Season 2 on Hulu. Ok. Now. Now I’m into it. It feels like a gift to have Annie Murphy from one of my all time favorite shows, Schitt’s Creek as Imogen in this new series.
Billions again again, amen. Man, I love this show. It is insanely well written with loyalties amongst characters shifting more than…..I loved when Chuck and Axe worked together. Mostly I loved watching Wendy and Taylor. They amazed me. These brilliant people, all of them, lying to others and themselves and pursuing dangerous ends due to small very human emotions like fear, greed, jealousy, hubris. Even billionaires who feel larger than life can be brought low. Then rise again. Bravo.
We Were Liars. I read the book by E. Lockhart years ago and loved it. I’m taking it slow with this one because I want to enjoy every moment. I don’t want to miss a thing. When people marveled at why adults read YA, I celebrated it without asking why. Watching this series, very similar to the book so far, something became clear. The appeal for watching or reading in the young adult space for a grown woman is maybe remembering your wild, passionate, idealistic days. Where you could still ruin your life many times over. I know how this one ends and I’m not looking forward to that, to be honest. I, too, remember the idyllic days of when my children gathered with their cousins at my brother’s house on Cape Cod. It wasn’t for an entire summer, but this series brings it back. Maybe minus the extreme entitlement. The fighting over material things. The ultimate downfall.
Until next week. I hope you find inspiration and hope in all you are doing. The world needs more of that!
Thanks, Stace. Needed this reminder. :)