Field Notes from My Writing Desk…to Yours
Well Writing: Take care of your muse and she will take care of you. Quiet the Inner Critic with an Inner Champion
There are a lot of reasons not to write. Here are a few of the ones I hear most as a writing teacher, editor, retreat leader, and author:
It’s so exposing, especially when we’re the main character, but also even if we’re writing fiction. All writing is still of us, and usually made of our deepest truth or longing. Even if we find the courage to expose ourselves, what if people judge us, or even reject us, for the essence of who we are? How would we recover from that? Why put ourselves through the potential pain?
It’s also sedentary. Brutal on your back. Not excellent for your circulation. Maybe you lose track of time when you write and forget to eat.
It can be a form of hiding that once felt safe, but over time feels like a way to disassociate with the land of the living. And that doesn’t feel healthy at all.
Usually, no one asks us to write. People can even react negatively to the fact that we write. Why would you do such a thing? Why would you turn yourself inside out for the world to see? Aren’t you afraid you’ll lose friends?
And then there are the people who you finally had the courage to share your writing with, who begged to read it, and are now avoiding you in the grocery store. Or the family member you thought was safe, and seemed to really want to read your work, but who never crack the book. Or who you see dozing off with it, closed in their lap. That one hurts. Love you, Dad, but I mean…in broad public!
I’ve experienced it all. Many many times. It took me over three decades to finally understand that my personal writing refusals were really just invitations to take care of my writing life by taking care of myself. I’d had it the other way: I told myself that my writing life was taking care of myself. And in some ways that’s true. But not if I’m not getting any exercise. Not if I’m sitting there with my shoulders in my ears, holding my breath for hours each day. Not if my Inner Critic is blasting cruelty to me, all megaphone. Not if I let her hold court to the degree that I take her fear as my truth and live by it. Not if I stop writing.
So a few years ago, I piece-meal hired a team of wellness helpers and created a regime that would help me support myself, and my writing. They’ve all helped me to understand that writing isn’t just writing. It’s living. It’s in living that we have material for our writing. So that can mean taking an intentional walk. Or bath. Or making soup. Or tending the garden. As Nora Ephron said, “It’s all copy.”
Here are some thoughts and questions to inspire you to bring wellness into your writing life. I hope they help you.
Writers sit. And as a result, writers’ backs often hurt. What are your favorite ways to bring movement into your writing life? Try this: stretch out your arms as wide as you can. Turn your hands palms up. And then try to twist your palms, pinkies up, thumbs toward the ground. Hold for ten seconds with even breaths, continuing to increase this rotation. You’ll feel it all throughout your solar plexus and even back into your shoulder blades.
Check in with your breathing. I find that when I’m writing, especially something that’s hard, I catch myself holding my breath, shoulders in my ears, almost in a fetal position, as if I’m guarding my vital organs. I have a small piece of paper taped to my desk that says “breathe.” It’s simple, but vital. I can’t tell you how often I glance at it and realize that I’m not. Try it! Sometimes the smallest things can be life-sustaining.
What do we include in a memoir or personal essay that feels deeply personal? Do we owe the reader everything? The answer is no. Be sure to keep a companion journal as you go. When the thoughts and feelings become highly charged, consider moving from your project to your journal where you can safely put all of your deepest thoughts and feelings, for your eyes only. Then you can decide what you want to include in your book or essay.
Writers are usually highly sensitive people, made of empathy, sometimes to a fault. We need to learn how to turn it on and off. I call it having an Inner Colander. A filter. Not a fortress. But you get to choose when you’re overwhelmed and need to be less permeable. Do you have a tool that you use to manage your sensitivity?
Writers are disruptors and yet often introverts. They feel deeply uncomfortable disrupting. And yet…they can’t not. Can you relate with this feeling? How do you manage this push/pull?
What does it mean to be in your voice? It’s when the writing flows. When there’s ease to it. Not necessarily that it’s easy. Not at all. But notice when you lose track of time. That’s usually when you are in your voice. Honor it. Have you experienced this flow? I call it a meditative waking trance.
I hope something here helps ease the pain a bit for you and maybe for a writer you care about.
This week, I’ll be sharing on Instagram and Facebook some insights into how important a writing community is.
To that end, I also will touch base this week about a free, open-invitation online event where you, other wondrous writers, and I can connect and experience a sampler of how my online writing sanctuary can “do wonders” for your wellness, writing, and more.
Stay tuned!
Truly,
Laura
When I read this essay, I began to think about my time with you not just once but twice. Your insight is amazing and comforting at the same time. If I can ever get my memoir out of this blasted computer, I will share it with you, sweet lady! ~Jan Myhre
You are so right. Writing IS living and a necessity to make sense of our lives. Thank you for this piece!