Category Archives: Writing

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.

Wishcasting Wednesday

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What do you wish to experience?

Swimming. I can’t. Well, I sort of can–I can keep myself from drowning for about three minutes, but it’s not pretty, and that’s what’s stopped me from learning, from relaxing into what I might already know–fear, of drowning, of dying, of being out of control and uncool. But, I wish to know what it feels like to glide through the water, to feel safe and confident there. And Jamie Ridler told me I have mermaid hair, so I think it’s required of me to know how to swim.

Performing, singing and playing my ukelele. I wish to take lessons for both and someday get on stage to sing and play my little heart out (but not all by myself, maybe as part of a band?).

I wish to experience being in a flash mob.

I wish to experience holding my published book in my hands. I’ve held it (them?) in my heart and my head and my notebooks and computer files for so long, I wish to manifest its full form, to share it. I wish to know what that feels like, being able to claim that I am a writer, an “author” in a way I’m not able to yet.

Spending a whole summer in Amsterdam. I still can’t really explain it, but I love this place, and I think spending the summer in a house boat or apartment in the center of town, walking or taking the train, shopping in the outdoor markets, visiting museums and writing in cafes, would be amazing.

Spending two months traveling around all of Europe.

Spending time in Japan. I’ve never been, but I love everything about it, the aesthetic, the mood. I’d find shrines and meditate, I’d take an Ikebana class from a master, I’d see the cherry blossoms and the maple trees and the cranes, I’d eat the food, see the people (trying not to stare or be rude), and I’d take a million pictures.

I wish to experience speaking another language fluently.

Leading a retreat. The more I think about it, dream and plan, the more of them I visit as an attendee or even do on my own, the more I wish to offer this to others, to give them the gift of being able to sink into practice, to soften and relax and open in a supportive and inspiring environment.

Teaching an ecourse. Another thing I am thinking of, dreaming and planning.

Teaching yoga and meditation. Along with writing, these two practices have benefited me so much that I want to be able to share them, to have the knowledge, skill and training necessary to do so effectively, ethically, and safely.

Finding my “thing,” my unique offering, and being a creative entrepreneur, being able to quit my paid work if I’d like.

Being able to make, sew, build, craft whatever I can imagine, and selling it in my etsy shop.

Making art and taking a workshop with Patti Digh.

Doing yoga and going on a retreat with Jennifer Louden.

Painting and yoga with Flora Bowley.

In person Wild Writing with Laurie Wagner.

Finding and making magic with Andrea Scher.

Hiking the Appalachian Trail (at least some of it) with Eric.

Having an urban farm. I wish to get my hands dirty, to tend the earth, to provide, feeding not just us, but having enough to share, and keeping animals and insects too, chickens and rabbits and bees and ladybugs. I would love to have a cow, but I wouldn’t be able to eat it.

I wish to experience healing, whatever form that might take.

I wish to experience complete self-love, acceptance, worthiness.

I wish to experience wholeness and wellness.

I wish to experience my life, all of the beauty and brutality it has to offer, the whole thing, all of it, and to know at the end that I made a difference, that I showed up with an open heart and was loved, that I mattered and was able to ease suffering in the world.