Category Archives: Cynthia Morris

Book Writing Saturday

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the sky over city park this afternoon

(50 pages + 27, 682 words + one outline) x (tears + hard work) – a bit of confidence = completely confused but moving. This is where I find myself after two Saturdays committed to working on my book. A lot of what’s been happening is moodling, “imagination needs moodling – long, inefficient, happy idling, dawdling and puttering,” (Brenda Ueland). Add to that lots of avoidance, at least one distinct crisis of faith and one meltdown, and you have a good sense of what I’ve been doing.

Writing a book is hard. I know, “d’uh.” No shit, Sherlock. Thank you, Captain Obvious. I’ve heard it a million times, that it’s not for the faint of heart, and that you really have to want it, that it’s hard and it’s going to hurt. I get it, but it’s the tiniest bit different when you are alone in a room staring right into the dark eyes of the thing with teeth, close enough to smell the stink of its breath, knowing full well it has every intention of devouring you–way more terrifying when it’s finally real. I want to walk into the center of my heart, reach that raw and tender place where the story lives, and make a map for anyone who wants to do the same, but it’s going to be rough.

Last week, I began by working through some exercises from Cynthia Morris. I used two posts from her Claim Your Authority series: One Powerful Practice That Makes Writers Happy and Target the Heart of Your Book to Write More Easily. I got clear about my own values, the themes I want to focus on, and made an outline. After all that work, that diving in deep, I was happy to find that my initial instincts where exactly right, spot on–so after all that, nothing had really changed. I’m still writing the same exact book I originally imagined.

Today, I collected all the writing I’d already done. I spent most of my time trying to organize what’s already typed up into a single file, which is where the 50 pages + 27, 682 words number comes from. That is, I did that after I had a tiny meltdown. Yup, I flopped down in my dark bedroom and cried, convinced I couldn’t do it, that I was going to chicken out and quit, give up, FAIL. When I was done, I got up, came into my office and started writing.

August Break: Day One

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If you’ve been reading my blog for long, you know how much I adore Susannah Conway. I am so inspired by her classes, her photography, and her writing, her way of being in the world, that I would follow her just about anywhere, take on any prompt or project she suggested.

susannah and I at her book event this summer in portland

Susannah is hosting August Break, as she’s done for the past two years, and I’m joining in. The goal is to share a picture on your blog every day of August. Other bloggers use this time to take a break from regular blogging, to look closer at their world through the camera lens as a way to be more present and relaxed, to sink into the joys of the month and savor the end of summer. I am having so much fun blogging right now, I’m not going to take a break from that, but rather add daily August Break posts, sharing with you, kind and gentle reader, “the view from here.”

The View from Here: August 1st

This is how I start every morning, at my writing desk in front of my HappyLight, window open so I can hear the birds sing once the sky gets light, with a 1/2 cup of coffee, Kashi Bar, and a banana that I’ll share later with Sam, the boy sleeping on the bed under my feet. This morning, I was a few minutes late, was in the kitchen talking to Eric, and Sam cam out to find me, let me know that he’d been waiting and I was now officially “late for work.”

I love getting up so early (most mornings), before the sun is even up, to sit in the mostly quiet and write. Sometimes what I write is total crap, a garbage dump of complaints, whining and moaning and bitching about dumb stuff, but more often it’s the bones of a blog post, or pages of a book or essay being born.

This picture shows close up what my view is like when I’m writing. The other day, I bought myself flowers to encourage myself to clean off my desk (it worked). I currently have a “thing” for owls, feel like along with dogs, they are the animal guides for my writing. The blue container holds some of Obi‘s ashes, and is next to Guanyin, also known as White Tara in Tibetan Buddhism, the goddess of mercy, compassion and action, (this particular one found at the Waldport Flea Market for one dollar, she holds a lotus blossom in her hands). At her feet are various rocks I’ve collected, one of which is roze quartz, the love stone.

Guanyin stands in front of a post card of Susannah’s and a picture I originally framed for my grandma (she’s since passed, so I have it again) which includes a bible verse about rejoicing and being glad in this day, and there is my World Domination Summit (WDS) temporary tattoo, my message from the universe by way of Andrea Scher, a take-way from Cynthia Morris‘s WDS workshop which reads “claim your AUTHORity now” and postcard from Patti Digh where she holds a rock that says “I dare you.” Behind that, where you almost can’t see it, is a jar of sand from Waldport Beach. There are other things you can’t see in this particular image, like the picture of Obi or the one of my nieces on the beach, or the piece of art from my first heART exchange swap partner. All of these things inspire me, remind me of my intention to write.

After I write, I turn on my computer and do a quick check of my email, facebook, and my blog. After that, I either walk the dogs or go to yoga. This morning, it was yoga, and this was the sky outside my gym. It’s getting light later already, so I got to see some of the sunrise before I went inside.