October was a wonderful month and I’m actually working towards keeping up my ‘poem-a-day’ even when it turns into more of a journal entry. Sometimes writing is not just one thing, and the poetry of the everyday counts just the same. Sometimes its the way we work through past hurts, even when they aren’t really a part of our present anymore. Sometimes the lines of verse are tiny cuts to the lines that hold us to those things not meant for us. The heart is a wild and rampant beast sometimes and we all deal with the fallout of her decisions differently. Hopefully we learn something new, each time.
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I’ve written so many lines about you tracked tears under every constellation ached under the flowering trees and sweated out remorse under July skies
I’ve worried for you, rued you let the storms of winter freeze any embers I thought remained
Still they simmer past all reason, reemerging in my heart where not even a desire to live resides
You were the fall of my empire and yet I still find you in the rubbled remains the inconsistent wound that does not ever, ever heal.
It is heart deep and tragic and I never know what to do when it opens again, and again and again...
Do I press fluttering hands to it failure to staunch the bleeding in my own weakened state? Numb the pain with earthly asides? Embrace it and lick at the blood, ravenous for even the slightest taste of your attention?
If I have changed in these many years then I know you have too So how can I still claim to burn for a specter who is no longer the same that haunts my mind's halls?
How can my same old heart have not grown along with this hardened shell and deepening wrinkles? How has my tough hide not pushed out the sliver of you buried in my irate skin?
How can you still pull at my insides? It is an irrational and hungry storm and I am weary of trying to tie my lines against it
I guess after millions of years the moon still pulls the sea and no one begs to wonder why.
So, I’m being ambitious and getting a few of my blogs written while at the Writing Heights Writers Association Fall Retreat, in beautiful Grand Lake, Colorado. (We’ll be updating soon for our Spring Retreat) And I’m reminded…that I actually like being around people. Not all people mind you. But writer’s are a special sect and I want to talk about them.
I’ve been a part of a lot of different groups. Martial artists, anthropologists, archaeologists, massage therapists, pilots, refinery workers, landscape crews, teachers…and they all have their own little micro cultures and ways of communicating, but being around other writers is something kind of special.
For one, and this is something I never knew I needed…no one bats an eye if you wander off from a conversation to sit down and write. AND while you’re writing, no one comes up behind you to ask a question, interrupt or disrupt you. There’s a solemn air about someone sunken into the process and not only do you find the peace to pursue it in these moments, but you can actually feel a beautiful, uplifting energy of minds at work. That’s one of the biggest reasons retreats have always worked for me. Even as the facilitator of this particular one, I’m given grace to work on my projects and supported in doing so.
Secondly, no one coming to these retreats is a stranger to the biggest issues that plague us all. Fears, imposter syndrome, frustrations, the bane of feeling blocked and the uncertainty of where to go when we do finish. The feelings that someone is always more successful, someone is always writing more… We are all in the battle, and see each other. That level of understanding and grace gives you a blanket of comfort so that those lows don’t feel insurmountable.
So, this is a friendly reminder, no matter what you write, no matter where you are in the process or the struggle, get yourself a group of writers. You don’t have to meet every week, you don’t have to always talk writing (some of the best conversations we’ve had here were on the complexities of life, of parenting, of ecology and wildfires, and…the anatomical measure of a moose) and you don’t have to share your work. But you will know you’re not alone, and that someone is rooting for you and your words. And that, my friend, is priceless.
“A thinker sees his own actions as experiments and questions–as attempts to find out something. Success and failure are for him answers above all.” ― Friedrich Nietzsche
I know that I’ve talked about failure before (mostly because I’m kind of an expert at it), but today I’m looking at the fear of it and how that can affect us, on not just an emotional side but the physical as well.
The human brain is wired for survival. Which means, its really good at flooding us with chemicals to help us outlive the tiger in the grass. It gives us a healthy fear of risk, so that we can live another day to make fire, hunt and gather, and make more big-browed babies. The problem is that some of the deep seated responses and reactions are no longer as useful in our present day. So often, our overstimulated brains are inundated with stress-response chemicals at every little infraction. Boss angry? Jerk cut you off in traffic? Partner says ‘we need to talk’? All of these things can cause an immediate fear response.
Sometimes it’s still helpful, but on the whole it shuts down our ‘thinking’ brain which is a much slower, more thoughtful contributor to our actions. What does it have to do with failure?
Let’s talk about the concept of ‘worst case scenario’. All the mom’s in the crowd know what I mean. You’re child is playing on the playground, but you’ve already mapped out every sharp edge, every eye-poking branch, and every potential bully. Because we’re wired to look for danger and to prepare ourselves for the worst things that can happen. Even if they never do.
Switch over to that manuscript, or poem, or article on your computer that you’ve been working and reworking, and fussing over for years. You have a genuine fear that if you let it out of your sight, it’s going to get poked in the eye with a sharp stick, or fall off of the faulty ladder and break every bone in it’s body. So you keep it safe, you keep it to yourself.
Can you imagine a kid that never, ever left home? That never stepped out, that never met anyone else? That wouldn’t be much of an existence and the world would miss out. Unlike your own child, your writing will not die if you expose it to some danger. In fact, it’s through this ‘danger’ that it will grow, learn, and become better.
So, when you’re trying to decide about submitting, or putting your work in a critique group, remember that its normal to feel apprehensive but that the point of using our voice, of writing what we love, is so that we can share it. And the worst case scenario is really that someone else doesn’t like it. Here’s a little insight-it doesn’t matter if they don’t. If they have good feedback that makes sense and would improve it, great–but don’t let the fear of not being instantaneously accepted keep you from trying. Every work is not for every body. But you won’t know which body it will speak to, if you never let it out.
So–go get ’em. Take that piece to a critique group, give it to a friend to read, submit it to a magazine. Just don’t let the fear keep it (and you) in a cave.
I’ve been going through a few books on stress lately, some helpful apps about dealing with emotions (sans alcohol) and how to find more balance in a busy world. The common theme of late has been about finding and fostering Gratitude.
Before I go further, I don’t want you to think this is some kind of toxic positivity post wherein I’m going to urge you to stop complaining and be thankful it’s not worse, or preach to you that you shouldn’t feel the feels because you’re lucky to be alive. That’s simply bullshit. We are allowed to complain, and rage against the slings and arrows of life. In fact, a little complaining can help let off the steam on our pressure-cooker lives. We will have feelings and reactions and normal stress responses to things that upend our lives. I don’t believe in denying the pain and the struggle of our existence. I do believe that we can chose where we focus our attention, and learn to accept certain undeniable truths.
Everything will change, nothing is permanent, and pain is inevitable. We know we’ll have to live through some shit. Hard shit, unfair shit, tragic shit…all of the shit. That race track is just life, but how we manage our emotional state, our place in the world, and our response to all the shit, determines if we grow and survive or shrink and die. It also determines how much we’ll enjoy the ride.
Enter Gratitude. Yeah, I keep capitalizing it. Because I picture it as sort of a superhuman in our origin story. But Gratitude doesn’t have to be a big and imposing guy in tights, it can be a million tiny little fireflies peppered throughout our day, our weeks, our moments, that help to lighten the dark of existence. It isn’t very complicated and anyone can start a practice of gratitude.
Today, either in the morning when you wake, at night before bed, (or both if you’re feeling extra thankful) take a moment to write down three things that you’re grateful for. Then write down why they impact your life. It can be something as simple as “I woke up this morning and now I get to hug my kids” or “I have a job, that keeps food on the table” or “The sun is shining and its lighting the trees up like a painting” or “I had running water today, and a roof over my head. I’m safe and so is my family”. Some of these seem like no-brainers right? Except there are some that don’t have those things and we could be them just as easily with the flick of a bad weather pattern, a bad political coup, or the cogs of corporate greed. And it feels stupid and silly to be thankful for the sunshine when your battling cancer. It seems naive and idiotic to be grateful for that first, warm cup of coffee, when you’re behind on twenty different deadlines. It doesn’t seem like it matters to notice the good, small things. I know that. I’ve often thought it myself when I first started.
But once you start to look for the things that are good in your life, even the littlest, it’s like going hunting for fireflies. You’ll start to see them everywhere. And the more reasons you see to be thankful and grateful in life, the more light your world will become. We, in essence, can create our own reality by choosing to focus on the beautiful, strange, and charming of our lives. So… Do yourself and everyone who loves you a favor and go write down what you’re thankful for. I’ve found that it helps start my day off in a different mindset, and it actually helps me ease into sleep a little better. (That old “Count Your Blessings instead of Sheep” song from White Christmas has some clout)
I’ll start:
I’m thankful for my children who teach me about myself and how to be a better person. I’m grateful that they are healthy and strong, and think for themselves
I’m thankful for a warm bed, even though I wish I could spend more time in it, I’m glad to have it at the end of every day.
I’m thankful for fall weather, the colors of the leaves and being able to see the painting they make everyday outside my window. Because it reminds me that nature is always in play, and her grand design is a comfort.
I’ve been attempting the challenge of writing a poem every day in October. They’re not all amazing, but some of them land in places I didn’t even know I had.
Birdhouse
I put a birdhouse up, next to my window I like to watch the lithe lightness of their bodies Bright colors and whisper bones Harbingers of Spring, Survivors of Winter sharp-beaked truth sayers forever in love with the dawn I like to watch them, hop and flutter in tree branches and shadowed gardens such a pure, simple existence I wanted to give them a home
But none have come to nest and I am wondering now, if it isn't my fault maybe I am too much heavy dark and granite bones I am the decay of Fall cold graves beneath snow, soft lips full of lies to myself and the ones I love forever lost in some night
Perhaps I am a treacherous black hole that they cannot call neighbor Still I will wait
What’s that? Sarah’s finally on her way on that downward slide into mental frailty? Well, maybe but stick with me for the ride because this is about a skill writers, and all of us really, can use in our lives.
Are you a multitasker? Do you pride yourself on all of the plates you keep spinning on any given day? the piles of paperwork, the busy-bee like hoping you do from one to another and back again. All energy and anxiety, and burnt out by the end of each day? Yep. It’s the standard American state. We never wear just one hat, we never do just one job. We never sit still.
So let’s talk about what’s happening with multitasking. You’re not actually doing multiple things at once, your brain is cool, but it ain’t that cool. The truth is that you’re task-switching. Focusing in short bursts of time on one thing, only to move to another before you can fully complete, appreciate, or solve the task you’re on. The real kicker to this is that it’s actually not very efficient, and it can lead to poorly done work, distraction, not finishing, and feeling like everything you did that day was half-assed. And it was. Or…half-brained.
What in the hell does it have to do with tomatoes? Ah, yes, excellent question. Now that we know that multitasking is actually hurting our brains and productivity, I want you to think about monotasking. That is, just as you would think…working on mononucleosis. No. Just kidding. It’s working on one thing at a time.
*gasp* But how will I accomplish it all?
Well, first of all, remember, you don’t have to accomplish it all. Society, work, culture, pressures, none of it is actually real. These are concepts and constructs we’re controlled by so…prioritize first. Pick 5 things. 5 goals for the day or week and if the rest of your ‘to do’ list doesn’t support or contribute to those 5 things, then feel free to drop them to the side. Now you have a paired down and necessary list. Ta. Fucking. Da.
But what about the tomatoes?! Right, right, I’m getting to it. So now that you have your goals, instead of bouncing from one to another and back again, we’re going to try a little technique called Pomodoro. What’s that you ask?
Why it’s Italian for “Tomato”.
Photo by Miguel u00c1. Padriu00f1u00e1n on Pexels.com
This technique was created by Francesco Cirillo who initially used the tomato-shaped timer in his kitchen to keep tabs on his productivity. And it goes a little something like this:
Choose a task, get prepped for it.
Set a timer for 10, 20, or 25 minutes (if this is new, start with ten, if you’ve got mad focus skills, you can work your way up to 50, but no more than that). You can use your phone (away from your desk) the microwave, an alarm clock, an hour glass…It doesn’t need to be a tomato timer. But how fun if it were.
Sit down, sans your distractions (put the phone in another room), and work on the task at hand. Just that task. Whether that’s writing, or bill paying, or marketing, or physical therapy.
Don’t quit, don’t stop, don’t task switch, until that little ‘tomato’ sings the song of it’s people.
Take a five minute break, stretch, move your body, throw some laundry in the washer, play with the dog, get a glass of water, meditate, do some breathing exercises…whatever gives your brain a break.
Reset your timer, and start on the next (or same) task for another chunk of time.
The Pomodoro Technique is more than just a nifty way to manage your time, but it gets your brain into the habit of focus, and with focus (especially for us writers) comes flow state. Flow state is that lovely area where we become engrossed (don’t like that word) in our work and our characters and the rest of the world melts away. Its good for your endorphins, it’s good for your writing, and it’s good for you.
Plus, the small breaks between actually serve another purpose by helping your mind “consolidate” what you’ve been working on. Neural consolidation is an actual thing wherein, after learning or working on something, taking a break will allow your brain to rest, think, and forge new neural pathways so you’ll actually absorb and save the information you’ve worked on. See? The brain is cool.
I’ve been doing this now for a while and I’ve realized that on the days I try to multitask, I get less done and feel more frustrated. But 30-40 minutes of concentrated time, actually equates to a lot more quality work getting done and me being able to give the focus and time to each task like it deserves. I also feel more relaxed and accomplished at the end of the day, instead of flustered and overstimulated.
Give it a shot and let me know how it works out for you.
They say we are divided, us wily writers. Those creative fluffs that let the words burn through them and damn the story arc consequences until the laborious editing process. Those starched-collar spreadsheet architects that engineer the life out of a story until it can be laid out like a mathematical equation. Two ends of a long spectrum encompassing how we all go about writing our stories.
Whether you’re on your first novel, your seventieth short story, or your tenth attempt at nailing flash fiction, we all have a style that suits our particular intelligence. When I use that word, intelligence, I’m not talking IQ scores or any other accepted standardized measure of smarts. I’m talking about the way we each learn and create. Some of us are spacialists. Some of us are naturalists. Some of us are mathematicians. Some of us are socialis–uh…well not ‘socialists’ in the negative way that gets a bad wrap these days…social butterflies? We all have strengths in different areas of “smarts”. (pssst–check out the cool infographic from blog.adioma.com–based on Mark Vital’s work. If you have an extra minute, look through it and see where your head’s at)
HOWEVER, each one of us–and I’m making this assumption because you’re reading a writing blog–are gifted with some level of literary intelligence. Storytelling. Weaving words. Building worlds with letters. So let’s start on that common ground and get to know why plotting out your story, no matter how fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants-writer you are, will help free up brain space for better writing and save you a literal shit ton of time in editing.
I’m a pantser. I’ve always been that way. It’s a creative deluge in my brain on many days. Hundreds of thousands of words, hundreds of characters, plots galore. ALSO– at least six unfinished nearly full length novels, countless ‘story-starts’ as I call them, and plots that have fizzled simply because the fire burned itself out when it hit the cliff of not having a plan.
If you are on my side of the spectrum, how do we avoid the graveyard of fizzled projects, laying stagnant on our lap tops?
Well, we simply need to learn to buckle down.
OK, OK, COME BACK!
No one shuts off Billy Idol
Jesus, I’m not some pastor dad from a bad 80’s movie, trying to tell you to shut off the Billy Idol and get a real job.
I’m just saying, as we mature as writers we can still have fun, and be responsible (I feel like a “The More You Know”, “after school special” moment coming on) to our stories and characters.
When I say buckle down, I’m thinking more in terms of a roller coaster. The buckles keep you secure while the ride still thrills and delights.
Here’s how I balance out my willy-nilly need to write untethered and the reader’s need to have structure (yes–reader’s need structure…what happens on the roller coaster is fun, but they don’t want to fall to their deaths on the first loop-d-loop)
When you get your idea (character, plot, situation etc): Write the hell out of it. I always think of them as scenes. I imagine situations or characters that play out in my head and I just write without self-editing the movie in my head. this can be a couple of pages, up to even 10-15 pages of material. Once I feel, like this story/character has potential and I want to know more about them, that I want to invest book-length time and effort into them, I then…
A River Sleeps Through It.
Create a loose story-line. Usually on an informal notebook page, turned sideways. Some people use graphics and spreadsheets. I know myself. If I started doing that it would turn into flashbacks of Anthropological Research Methods and my only C paper…ever… ew, statistics David. That would take all the joy from it for me. Like strapping into a roller coaster with seven belts and having the cart inch along at a safe three-mile-an-hour speed. Don’t fence me in, Excel.
The story line doesn’t have to be crazy detailed. But it should have an act structure. Sure, I could dictate (*snicker* dic-tate) that it be a hard-line three act structure with appropriate crises and resolution points. But some stories require more, (rarely less). If you went through step one above, chances are you have a pretty good idea of at least the beginning and end. You know what your character wants and if they get it or not. The tricky bit is in the center and that brings us to this…
Plotting is important because it will help you get through the doldrums of the middle, where most novels go to die. Having some definite ideas about how crisis points build, where and when they come to a head, and how your character changes afterwards will help you know what to write next to keep the story moving in the right direction. Within that outline, is still a great abundance of wiggle room, so don’t get caught up in specifics when you draft your outline.
Well, I think that that’s all I’m going to torture you with today. You might find, by starting with this simple diagram you feel more comfortable elaborating on it, adding plot points, character transition moments, and secondary or series arcs into it. Good luck out there, pantser. Buckle up, writers. It’s one hell of a ride.
Well, shit. I don’t know how to say this but, I sort of did a thing. A thing I’m not sure if I’ll regret or not. Or if it will destroy my life, my writing and my sanity. But… remember last week’s post? No? Go back and read it, I’ll wait….
Okay, so now that we’ve established that the heart is a weird and dumb critter who regularly drives us off of cliffs, the big, weird news is that I went ahead and veered my Studebaker straight off the cliff into taking over the Director position and ownership of Writing Heights Writers Association. Yep. I’m soon to be in a position of authority and that’s…the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard of.
But the fact is, my heart did it. Because I love this group. I love it’s members and its potential, and the things it can do for writers, in their struggles and grief and in their times of triumph. Because I believe in writing and I believe in writers. And I couldn’t see it fizzle and die out. And I’m definitely not guaranteeing it will thrive or even survive, but I made the choice based on a tenement I hold pretty close to my heart. It comes down to something I spoke of last weekend at the RMFW Colorado Gold Conference (I hope you made it) about Fear.
I have to credit a good friend with a phrase I heard in one of his lectures. Safety is not a place we learn anything. You could keep your Studebaker on the road, safely from one point to the next, never look around, never make a pitstop, and be the same damn person you were when you left as when you arrive. It is by throwing ourselves into the stupid and weird, and impossible that we grow. That we learn. That we discover. And what in the hell is life for, if not to discover?
I can’t run it the same way anyone else did before me. I’m not a smooth operator, I don’t have vast amounts of clout or money, or talent for that matter, (haha). But I’ve got this jabberwocky heart of mine. That’s a little wild, and a little goofy, and all about joy and puppy-like enthusiasm. All gnashing of teeth and snickering of snacks. Too full of love to ever make exactly the right decision. Sometimes it can’t even make the most practical one. But safety is not a place we learn anything. Practicality is a tether we’re given to remain docile.
So in the coming months I’m going to be gearing up to take over (starting officially in January). I’ll be trying to learn about processes, current issues facing writers, networking, and taxes and community building and all that wonderful and horrible stuff that nobody taking classes or going on retreats will have to think about. I’m going to think of my writers and my amazing team first, and my comfort second. I’m going to do my best to keep the heart of this thing wild, but filled with enough love and compassion to be reliable. I may be reaching out to some of the amazing and beautiful people I know to ask for advice and warnings. I’ll probably need to lean on friends until I find my balance.
All I really need to do now, is to make sure there are some good plotters on my side, to keep me from pantsing this thing into the ground. Stay tuned, and we’ll go on this ride together. Maybe we’ll even learn something.
Y’all, I’m busier than a one-legged lady in an ass kickin’ contest. So, here’s a little rerun. Because, lord knows the Heart is a Terrible driver sometimes. But we still let her take the wheel. After all, what is life for but to be messy and in love?
The Heart is A Terrible Driver
I am the owner of a body in the trunk the forgotten musty trunk in recesses of my memory muffled and tied up speechless to the ways my heart fell
Hearts do what they do and mine she is so big so eloquent a speaker so deviously soft and swaying…
she convinced me that she was the only one who could drive the beast of me through life, and it would all work out
while my brain sat in the back seat, shaking her head and looking at me in the rearview mirror mouthing the words
You know better Your gonna hate yourself for letting her drive
Brain was right Heart took us off a fucking cliff the first chance she got giggling with the thrill the free fall of Love drunk on its chemical cocktail
all the way down Brain stayed silent, arms crossed over her chest as if to say
nothing I tell you will matter anyway We were already over your head the minute you gave her the keys
the carnage at the base of the canyon was ruinous the destruction, complete Heart took the hardest hit split down the middle in two ragged pieces of desiccated meat devoid of reason, or rhythm
Head pulled her from the car, drug her through the sharp pebbles and burning metal shook with disappointment and carried her to a lesser used path and I followed complacently my own wounds stinging
Brain barely spoke, in all of those tender months-turned-years up from rock bottom winding on trails of drunken malestorms and pious sobriety We are a heavy load
Heart sometimes regains consciousness and clings to the brush, on the side of the trail striking out with bloody, broken hands against the pull trying always trying to get back to the wreckage to somehow make it all work out make that car and joyous ride run again
Brain cuffs her, hard Sometimes it’s just easier to knock her out and keep her from making any decisions then to try and reason with her stitched up pieces
from here on out, my heart must remain bound and gagged, the body in the trunk
Hello writers, readers, and fellow stardust-filled meat suits,
This is a friendly and short reminder that this is the only day you have.
Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow is not promised. Today is what we get. This day, this hour, this minute, this breath. I hope you are up, ready to face it with a sense of calm purpose. What will you do today?
Not sure where to start? Here’s how I do:
Move your body: Go for a walk, do a little yoga, take a run or a bike ride, lift something heavy, find the quiet repetition of a lap pool, beat the hell out of a boxing bag. Whatever the motion, be grateful for the body you’ve been given and love it.
Write something. Anything. A grocery list, 2000 words on your next novel, a poem, an essay, a letter to your mom…a lunch box note. Put hand to paper (or keys) and share a bit of your soul out into the world.
Read something. Take in a few new ideas, challenge your knowledge, tease your curiosity. Learn something new, then sit for a minute and think about that something new. Can you related it to something you knew or thought before.
Breathe. Slowly. In and out. Do nothing but breathe, for at least three breaths, at least three times a day.
Eat good food. Whatever that means for you. I’m not talking latest diet fads or what you ‘should’ eat. But what’s good to you, your soul, your happiness, and your sense of fulfillment. If its green and leafy all the better, if its all crunch and salt, so be it. But let it bring you joy.
Devote time to your purpose. Maybe that’s writing. So sit down and write. Maybe that’s your current job, buckle down and find gratitude in the work. Maybe that’s taking care of someone else, find fulfillment in that. But give focused time to your passion, and your goals.
Do one thing…anything, not for yourself. Help a neighbor, take a grocery cart back, help a coworker with a project, give a ‘yes’ to something that lightens the load of another. Send a note, donate to charity, drop off food at the food bank, hold the damn door, offer a compliment. Say thank you and please. It really takes so little to be kind. So do that. In any way, big or small, that you can.
Rest. Maybe it’s a moment to stare off into space, or to do a puzzle, or to lay down with your snoring dog for twenty minutes. But rest. We’re not machines and its in those quiet times that our brain processes all the stuff we’re doing.
Tell someone you love them, or appreciate them, are rooting for them, or that they are important to you. Whatever and to whomever…tell them now. This is your only day.
Spend time with the people and places you love the most. At least a little time. Be present with them. Make a memory. Make it count. Make them laugh.
Laugh. The greatest punchline to human existence is that, despite all of our struggling, our toiling and effort, none of it really matters. We are an absurd little glitch in a vast and uncaring, infinite universe. We are ridiculous and short-lived, so find humor in all that you can. Because laughter is a bit of a middle finger to the whole pointless play, and at least by laughing, you’re enjoying the flash-in-pan ride.
Love. You can chose a lot of things in life. You can choose to get ahead, you can choose to keep it simple, you can choose to pull back or spring forward, you can make choices for your life and your goals. You can choose to hate someone and extend that. You can choose to love. It is our greatest power and our greatest folly that we get to choose how we radiate into the world. I ask that you choose love. Love your fellow humans. Love your planet and your world. Extend grace. Live compassionately as though that was an unending resource (it is). Forgive. Let go. This is your only day, so just for today, choose to love.
Try the list, then go to bed. And then…when and if (and I hope it’s when and not if) you wake up in the morning, be excited and ready because you get to do it all over again. Just for today.
Sarah Reichert Author 