The Simplicity of Practice

Posted on by sereichert

I can’t tell you how much of my life I overthink. From what a friend has said, to what the scowl my daughter is giving me means, to the side eye my dog throws at me and the head shaking the man in the car next to me offers when I’m belting out Blink-182 lyrics… I overthink it all. I overthink every decision (but if I have a bagel without the egg I’m going to be hungry, if I brush my teeth now they’ll just get dirty because I want one more cup of coffee, but if I don’t brush them now, it might not happen today…) You see what I mean?

So when I’m given (or read, or listen to) writing advice, I tend to do the same. I over calculate how many chapters I should be writing a month to finish a book in a quarter. I’m diagraming the hell out of my character’s backstory (after a pantster first draft that feels too tepid). I’m getting lost looking at internet trends, publishing tips, and marketing plans… And so much of these grand ideas, sparked by advice to help in the long run (some don’t) but what they for sure do, is take up time. And invested time like that isn’t just the physical hours but the mental energy that it takes to process it all. Less mental energy means…less writing (or less quality in the writing?)

Recently, I read this great article on the timeless tidbit of: “just write”.

I mean, admittedly, it’s kind of a breath of fresh air. Simple. Not complicated. Correct. To be a writer, to finish your novel/story/project, you must actually write it. So…just write.

But it’s also oversimplified. If writing were just that easy, every person who’s ever come up to me and said “I’ve always wanted to write a book” or “I’ve started a novel but I can’t seem to finish it” would have oodles of books written. Wants made into dids. I mean, “just write” makes it sound like all we really have to do is sit down, the words will come, the knowledge will be there and the novel will march through beginning, middle, and end without fail or hiccup.

But writing isn’t simple. It’s akin to playing an instrument, and doing it well. Anyone can pluck the strings of a guitar. Anyone can thunk on the piano keys, but it takes more dedication, thought, and skill to actually play a song, none the less write one. But the practice is the road towards a better song.

So, as this pretty smart writer guy said, we should instead “Practice Writing.”

Practice Writing. It is better, no? You’re still doing the writing thing, but it comes with the lightened atmosphere of it being something continually tried and worked for, something offered, reworked, and perfected, but never perfect. Something we find joy in, while still being committed to the process of it.

And it helps me not over think it. Because every sentence, scene, poem, blog, or chapter I indulge in, is a practice, and a learning opportunity, but not a commitment to perfection. And just like an instrument, through trial and error, and time spent, we writers will get better and better. So, I beg you to go forth, and practice your writing today. Whether it’s 2000 words, or 20. Every plunking of the keys counts towards learning the complete song. Every word, every thought, every rambling blog post, is a writer in the making.

What’s The Deal, Brain?

Posted on by sereichert

I’m normally a prolific writer. Like…I can put down 2,000 words plus a day when I have time and am in the middle of the glorious magical lapse, where time ceases to exist and there is only writing. But of late, that space is hard to find.

Now, to be fair to myself, I did just get done with a big project for my writing organization as well as helping to put on a conference. The kids are home right now, and there have been a lot of to-do’s in life. All of those excuses aside, when I sit down to write, it’s less a raging waterfall and more a sad little trickle, if it happens at all.

At the beginning of this year, coming off a year of publishing five books, I told myself that the main goals of the year would be learning and teaching. I would take classes, I would teach classes and give my brain a break from the writing, and especially, editing aspect of what I do–at least in terms of publishing goals. But I think I did myself a disservice.

By not writing consistently, at least a little everyday on various projects, I think I’ve lost some neuro pathways. I’m having a hard time with my focus, with my word count, and with that magical blossoming of new ideas. But is that all? Because I’m pretty fucking loopy these days. Like can’t concentrate, I’m tired all the time, I’m crabby (granted the world is a shitfest currently), and often depressed.

This is where the post gets a little weird, but I encourage people (men, women, and everyone between and along the spectrum) to stick with it.

Let’s talk about perimenopause. (Ew! I know, but shut up and listen) Brain fog is real, ya’ll. It also means night sweats and if those don’t keep you awake, the random brain and body signals being sent will. Less sleep equals…even more brain fog. I’m struggling to find balance, and focus, even though I haven’t changed any of my normal dietary, exercise, or life practices. All this to say, sometimes, life and biology don’t work with us. Sometimes we have to find new pathways and methods to do what we love.

Right now I’m researching it. I’m trying to eat healthy, let myself rest when I’m tired, and (despite also still teaching and learning this year) I’ve started writing again. A small, simple and sweet little book that’s not requiring too much investment as of yet, because I need to keep practicing, but I also need to keep it enjoyable, and not too convoluted for the brain cells that are already fighting strange hormone dips and tricks.

I know I’ll get through this, I’m looking into therapies and other things that can be done. Because I’m committed to managing my health and I’m committed to my creativity. Even if that means (as a woman and isn’t it ALWAYS the case) I have to work a little harder to find that balance. I’ll keep writing, a little each day. I’d rather be stuck in the traffic going slowly in the right direction, then pull of the road and never get back on.

Take care out there kids, and bring a fan. It’s going to get hot randomly.

Poetry 7-11-2024

Posted on by sereichert

Sometimes I like to pick up random notebooks, lying around my desk (there are several) and crack open the pages like looking in a dusty box in the attic. No reference to when or where it was last filled and sealed. Sometimes I find pieces of myself that had scribbled themselves on pages. Once out of my brain, I forgot about them. Sometimes I recognize that girl, shining on the page. Sometimes I long to be her. Sometimes, I am sad for her. Here’s a relic from a random ‘box’. (I should really put dates on these things)

Celestial

Oh, the lengths of letting go
I've undergone
This sun rises and sets and entire worlds
are made and destroyed
stars I once thought I revolved around,
sure that chaos would run the darkness if ever
I left their orbit
sputter and fade into nothing

Because the power of a world is 
the power that I give it
The fire of a sun 
springs from My well
The light in the dark is borne in 
My heart
It did not exist before me
It will die without me
and so it goes
ever in the throes of change

So I'm not breathing life 
into any more poisonous coals
they can suffer and wane 
in the cold of my celestial shadow
in the passing of their time
and the Rebirth of mine

they will revolve around Me
as I am the center
they are just cold rocks,
caught in my gravity
I care not, I notice not
if they stick around 
or become lost and distant sedimentary trash
pulled away from me 
by their own faulted inertia

I continue on
always

Life and a Bit of Poetry

Posted on by sereichert

I have to be honest. I didn’t get a post written this week. I’m actually surprised I’m even getting it done the day of. But if nothing else, I believe it’s consistency that builds skill, trust, and a life in total. So here’s a slap-dash post.

First, I’ve been truly busy this week working on a labor of love: The 2024 Writing Heights Youth Anthology (Name to be revealed soon!) I’m the Youth Coordinator and every month I plan out a lesson and writing prompts and load my heart up with lots of joy and compassion to teach a free class to teenagers about writing. We have about 15 in person and virtual students and the class varies in size depending on the stresses of school and life and other activities. But the work and I are always there (see above about consistency)

So far, the group has put together nearly a hundred pages of poetry, prose, fiction and non fiction pieces about life from their perspectives and stories from their imaginations. And its pretty damn good, if I do say so. Along the way, they’ve learned how to explore different modes of writing, critiquing and editing and what it means to communicate with each other and the world. This anthology is about more than just their first publishing credit, and getting paid for words. It’s about trusting in their voices, and learning that speaking up and speaking out is one of the greatest tools they will ever have to change their world and lead their own unique and beautiful lives.

That being said, I struggle with formatting and arrangement so… the majority of my time has been in trying to get each font just right, within the proper margins, and editing those pesky lines a few more times. The book should be out in July and I’ll let you know when the big release date is. Until then, if you’re interested in donating anything to the organization, you can contact Amy or Jess at director@writingheights.com . It’ll help us offset the costs of publishing, make sure the kids are paid for their hard work, and get the good word out about the program.

Now, I’ve gotta go try to make a table of contents *shudder*. Here’s some poetry.

Reluctant Hope

Every morning I wake 
with a shuddering light of hope
in my chest

Weary from the day before
denied sustenance and light in kind
Yet, somehow...
I still wake with it

It strikes me as foolish
to hold on to this frail bird of a thing
in the dark cavern of my chest 
neighbor to the empty heartbeats 
that pump sanguine rivers
to heavy limbs

Still, she settles there
a stray who found warmth
on an otherwise rough
and dirty-guttered street

And when my eyes open
she blinks too
pulls my granite limbs up
like stringed fingers to a puppet
and whispers
a wind through grasses
from far away shores
of better days
That today
today 
this day
will be better

Shuddering, flickering,
a loose bulb swinging in a dark room
making an arched smile as she dances
we'll make today better

Poetry 6-13-2024

Posted on by sereichert 
Her List

let’s make a list
of all the things
I didn’t do
of all the tasks
still uncrossed
the boxes
unchecked
and measure my worth by them.

How it had been months
since I last dusted well
and when some fog of
depression lifted
and I stared in disgust
he breathed a sigh 
of ‘finally’ relief
and happily let me scrub them down
even seeing my obvious self-loathing

what did you do with your day?
I erased months of my skin cells
erased months of myself
with disgust at the oily build up
of what I’ve become…

but no matter how much grey brown filth
I rinse down the drain
I’m still here

were that my cells finite,
and every time I shed
I just became smaller
and smaller
and smaller
until one day
I would blink out of existence.

a last checked box
disappear, 
check.

When Art Becomes A Business

Posted on by sereichert

I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. And I’m not sure if its an American Capitalism (should be capitalized right?) thing, or a global disease but…at what point did we stop valuing art and creation if it wasn’t…profitable?

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

I’m an anthropologist at heart. It started when I couldn’t put down the Clan of the Cave Bear series at 12 and continued on through college and my degree, and until…well, yesterday when I read a really cool article about a new Neanderthal skeleton that was recently reconstructed…why does it matter?… well…”Anthropology encourages us to extend our perspectives beyond familiar social contexts to view things from the perspectives of others”. Where was I? Oh yes…art. Humans and art. Do you know how long we’ve been creating art? Paintings on walls, carvings from stone, beadwork, intricate clothing, papyrus, plays (both tragic and humorous…), STORYTELLING…

Photo by toshihiko tanaka on Pexels.com

The point is, humans were born with divine mental capacity. And it extends in times of plenty and scarcity to provide sustenance in a form of mental fulfillment. Then…I dunno…hustle culture happened? Capitalism happened? 1970’s parents started scoffing over martinis that so-and-so’s son wanted to be an *gasp* artist…and what a dreadful shame? That someone would chose to create new and innovative and truthful things over…stamping letters and creating spreadsheets? Because…well…art has no… no money in it.

These birthing pains gave way to an entire generation of people who were forced to work at acceptable jobs and “dabble” in art. Which gave way to people “hustling” in their art and marketing the shit out of their soul’s best guess of humanity, to make it ‘real’ by turning a dollar sign. This is where we are. Art has been reduced to…a commodity. And if it doesn’t sell…it isn’t worthwhile…

There are countries that don’t charge artists taxes. Did you know that? That if they’re producing art (writing, painting, illustration, music, etc.) they are exempt from the toil of paying their country extra money. Why? In America that would never fly! Why should they be off the hook

Let me ask you…What do you do in your free time?

You don’t work more. You don’t put out more spreadsheets, or call more clients, or cut more hair, or take an extra shift for fun…you read. You…go to museums…you watch plays…you visit the botanical gardens… you go to a movie. These little “acts of joy” sometimes even keep you from jumping off a bridge. They inspire your mind, they take you out of the daily grind and…hustle.

…is that not of value? Does feeding your soul not count as a necessity?

I’m on a soap box, I get it. You’ve probably stopped reading. But in case you haven’t, please consider

…humanity has survived and thrived because we have had more than just survival to aim for. There is joy and purpose to feast off of. Art makes life. In the event of an apocalypse… could you even imagine not trying to save the art, the books, the music… the decadent history (and prehistory) of the humanistic howls into the universe that scream… “we are here and we feel”?

What is there to appreciate beyond it? Art brings us together, it connects us, it’s a shared experience and a deeper rooted truth than almost any paycheck. And yet…it has been reduced to: how many followers, how much in royalties, how many people ‘liked’ it, how many people went to your show, what the script writer made and if they have potential for more (we don’t pay if you don’t have at least three seasons)…

I beg of you, if you have funds in the strapped and dystopian financial climate that is America now… support your artists. They don’t even have to be me. Just…find something that you love, that moves you and…tell the artist, write them, speak to them, throw some money their way. Remind them…They are important. They are the story up on the wall of a cave…that proves a defiant resistance to the endless march of time. The voice in the dark, the color in the black and white that speaks; we are here.

We were here.

Art matters. And the only people telling you it doesn’t, are the people that cannot profit from it.

Move, Pitch, Get Out the Way

Posted on by sereichert

Yeah, I did just title this blog that…No, I’m not sorry. Yes, I hope that song plays in your head all day. Yes, it may seem “Ludacris”. Yes, I did just make a dad joke out of it. No, you can’t get a refund, this shit is free.

This is actually a post from a couple of years ago, but oddly enough, I’m headed up tonight to the Wyoming Writers Conference again. And again, I’ll be pitching. So I’ve tweaked a few things but the advice remains solid. I hope it can help you.

Now, on to the blog

This week, tonight actually, I’ll be pitching a novel to a publishing company at the Wyoming Writers Conference in Casper, Wyoming. I know that this should be something I do at least every year but with the past couple of years spent in catching up and starting new jobs, and my creativity taking a giant dump of late, I haven’t had the drive, material, or need to throw myself into the ring.

But, by strange happenstance, the novel that I started at last year’s WWConference in Laramie, turned out to be one of my favorite books. Its a strange blossoming feeling of re-reading it and having it punch me in the gut and make me laugh-cry. I could independently publish it. But…the past years have taught me, that there’s no shame in rejection or in throwing your heart in the ring, especially when you really believe in something you’ve created. So I slammed the breaks down and took a breath. A pause. A consideration. That if the story was “Well written, with a voice we really like” that maybe I should give it another tour around the pasture before sending it out, on my own.

So here I am again, years later, still sweaty palmed, reading and re-reading, and choking on my elevator pitch and changing it a dozen times to get the most depth of the story in the fewest words. And it’s exhausting. The sudden surge of trepidation inspired me go through some of my notes from previous classes and books on pitching. And here’s what I have to offer:

  1. Agents and publishers are human beings. They’ve probably slept horribly, are sore and uncomfortable from sitting, have heard a lot of story ideas, and are probably thinking about the cash bar. Just like you. So don’t treat them like a god up on Olympus by cowering or waving tribute in their faces. Be kind, be polite, and use some of your allotted time to treat them with dignity and respect. They’re there because they love reading and want to find a good story.
  2. Tell them why you love your story. Yes, yes, the general plot, genre, main character and conflict…but what is it about your book that fills your heart. Why do you find a reason to read and re-read it? What were some of the best compliments you receive from your beta readers. Human beings respond to enthusiasm and genuine admiration. Otherwise, we’d never watch baseball. Moving on.
  3. Be organized. Have a synopsis ready, bring a query letter and your business card. It’s been a long day for them and you; stories might start running together and they may need a gentle reminder what the 4:55 pm pitch was.
  4. Be open to suggestions and critique. Whoof, this one is hard, right? After all, we just gushed about what we love in our book. While you love it (or hate it depending on how many goddamn times you’ve had to read it and rewrite it) it is also a good time, before you sit down at that table, to think of your fledgling story like a kid going off to college. Its stepping out into the world to be made better, smarter, stronger. It has a lot to learn, so let it be open to becoming something more and living up to its potential. It isn’t a reflection on you as a parent, it’s a starting point for even more amazing results to come.
  5. Follow up. I’ve sat in the pitch sessions where every agent gave me their card and asked for ten pages. I thought I was a goddamn genius and that they’d be engaged in a bidding war over my book within weeks. Um…hate to ruin the ending there but THAT didn’t happen. Sometimes agents are required by the conferences they attend to receive a certain number of pitches. Sometimes an agent is mildly interested and looking for something to pad up their own resume. Sometimes they’re just bust-ass tired and like a parent giving in and handing their kid a remote cause they just can’t listen anymore, they pass along their card with a defeated…”stay in touch”. That being said, if it happens, act as though it’s the bidding war situation, not the tired parent. Send them what they asked for, in the format they asked for it in, and be respectful with your letter. ALWAYS INCLUDING: your name, that you met at ‘such and such conference’ and that they requested your pages. If you can, PLEASE include some other more personal detail. “It was fun talking to you about your dog, Jasper” (write that kind of thing down on their business card) but don’t make it too personal “I hope your rash has cleared up.” (that’s creepy)

After it’s all said and done a pitch session is like any other interaction introverts dread. You have to talk, somewhat excitedly, about something you love and worked hard on, and thereby risk rejection and public shaming. But please remember that the person sitting across from you is also probably an introvert (or works with a lot of them) and just wants you to tell them a good story.

Good luck out there, and if you’ll be in Casper this weekend for the conference I’d love to sit down and chat about pitches, your book, all the wonderful things we’re working on. Happy writing.

Rediscovering Purpose

Posted on by sereichert

It’s a strange world out there kids. Even if you live under a rock, its hard to ignore all of the things that are currently affecting our lives and world. Massive super cell tornados, vapid and un-checked streaming information, rights being taken away, innocents being bombed, people starving, other’s rolling in stupid amounts of money…its enough to make a conscious person’s head spin.

And mine has been spinning for awhile. And then, even with all of the big picture stuff, looming, you still have to do something about your own, micro world. Your family, your job, your community, your life. Doesn’t it all seem a little too much to anyone else? I worry that if I shrink the world down, I won’t take action when I can to help others. I worry if I get to caught up in the overwhelming outside world, I’ll forget the good I can do with the people I love, closest to me. I’m, as Bilbo once said, too little butter scraped across the bread.

I’m at a retreat this week, helping to keep the thing running smoothly and encouraging this great group of writers in attendance and we’ve been at the mercy of some pretty terrible weather the last three days. The hikes and quiet world-expanding I’d hoped for haven’t happened. I’m shrunken down into my room, my group, and my work and I’m trying to not pull a Jack a la “The Shining”. We can hear our crazy louder and more clear when we’re forced into the silence.

Watching so many of my fellow writers getting work done, and having epiphanies, and making progress has been such a joy. But its also frustrating, because despite being here, and away from the rest of the world, I still feel stuck. I guess when the trap is your own head, it doesn’t matter how much you change the scenery. I’m making lists and doing a lot of the ‘safe’ work of editing and administrative to-dos. I’ve written a few poems. I’ve taken notes on classes. But what I haven’t done is gotten lost in the beautiful alpha state of writing and it’s something that always sweeps me up at a retreat.

Maybe there’s too much responsibility. Maybe I’m just not in the right head space. Maybe there’s a stress level, worrying about everyone and everything else besides my writing. All I know is that I will spare myself some time today and look forward in my own life. Make a list if need be (virgos love lists) of what I need, going forward to recapture my sense of purpose. Not just in writing. But in life.

I hope that you spare yourself some space in the middle of this crazy world today, and do the same. Could you imagine if we all woke up tomorrow, renewed and ready to make this world a little better?

That’s something to set an intention for.

Poetry 4-18-24

Posted on by sereichert

Today is my daughter’s 14th birthday. She’s been through a lot. She’s still going through it. She’s one of the strongest, smartest, most thoughtful humans I know, and the world has put pressures on her she should have never had to carry. We can’t protect our kids from everything, but we can stand with them in the fire. This one’s for you kiddo.

Bigger

I’m taking you out on the trail today
to see if we both can heal
one step
one stitch
to close the gaping hole
the chasm between our beats

I’m taking you away
from the screams and screens
and all the voices
of a maddening world
always telling you
to be smaller

I’m bringing you into the bigger world
like I brought you in 11 years ago
back to the light and the breath
and the love and the truth
that you never have to lose
to gain

I’m taking you out on the trail
in the early morning hush
You and I
away from a million voices
Screaming we are not enough
whispers to pinch skin
and hollow out our souls
to lose the weight, to be
less, be
smaller, be gone.
disappear.

If we must disappear
then let’s do it together
let us lose ourselves in
dirt tracks
and aspen quakes
and forget the other world
exists

Let’s make it smaller.

I’m taking you out on the trail
to gain back what you have lost
to heal
one step
one stitch
at a time

Do not make yourself small
when the size of your soul
is my whole world.

S.E. Reichert

Transcendence and Indifference

Posted on by sereichert

Sometimes on this blog I talk about writing. Sometimes, I talk about books and poetry, and creativity. I’m going to dip my toes in deeper waters this week, and I hope you’ll join me. I’ve been reading some really interesting books lately. Some of them fiction, some of them philosophy, but all exploring different aspects of perspective, experience, and this strange little existence we’re all trapped in.

Particularly, I’d like to talk about transcendence. Seems pretty hippy-dippy, yeah? Like only those on a first name basis with insanity or theistic religion (one and the same?) may reach this state. Those have been the acceptable formats to use in our ‘modern’ and indifferent current culture to reach transcendence. But what if, every human has the capacity to reach it? And why would we?

Well, ironically, I’m going to ask you how detached you are from technology these days. (I get it, you’re reading this blog–I appreciate your momentary attachment to my words, I hope they do you more good than harm). In our society, indifference, disconnect, and relativism have all formed a trifecta of creating a malaise of ingratitude and apathy. Whoa! Big words, nerd, tone it down…

Okay, so we live in a virtual world most of the time, rarely face to face. We are disconnected from the smaller, more real worlds of our surroundings. When we are face to face, we’re bombarded with the cultural effects of making EVERYTHING meaningful and important so that, nothing really is. We are more concerned with being seen than being known. We contain our worth in ‘like’ counts and ‘views’. We’re overwhelmed with information, but often that information is sensationalized and skewed, so the depth with which it affects us if often akin to a kiddie pool full of mostly piss…. What I’m saying is that our world has shortened our attention spans and hardened our hearts. And that’s a poor state to be in if you want to experience transcendence.

Why do we need to? We don’t. We could live our whole lives without having it. Some of us will. But as a creative, a writer, and a person who gives a damn about the world, transcendence translates to the interconnection of ideas and thought, the loss of self, the exaltation and delight of being truly present in a moment AND simultaneously interconnected with all moments. It helps writers and artists see connections and solve problems. It’s like having both hemispheres of your brain working at the same time.

In the modern world, people are addicted to the feelings of transcendence (joy, exaltation, elation, ecstasy, a disconnect from their lives) and many find it… often through drugs, or alcohol, or falling in love on repeat. Constantly punching tickets for these roller coasters of chemical highs, and depressive lows…Short term gains with long term consequences. It’s the equivalent of taking the gondola up the mountain but not really appreciating the view at the top the same way someone who climbed the mountain does.

See, transcendence (the magical lapse, the alpha state, the eureka moment, the disconnect from our small selves) comes from putting in time. Time on your craft, investment in your art. It comes after working through problems, working past failures and over obstacles. It means letting go of your ego in favor of discipline, to have intense attentiveness to the world around you (not an easy thing to do in the era of the internet), patience, and observation…curiosity. Hands on work, and hours in the seat. It certainly can’t come if AI is writing your story for you.

It probably comes as no surprise that, in our era of entitlement, transcendence is rarely a thing experienced. No one wants to work hard enough to the point that the work becomes the ease. And the process becomes, in itself, a meditation. Building a bridge between our analytical brain and our inspirational intuition takes time, and practice. It takes silence, and contemplation. It takes noticing the world around you. And this isn’t just experienced in writing or artistic endeavors. As a martial artist I’ve understood that its only through intense repetition, years of practice, curiosity and humility on the floor do I attain precise and sharp motion when it is called upon. (Slow to flow, flow to speed, speed to power, power to grace.)

So how do we recapture it? How do we overcome the indifference and work towards this genuinely life-altering experience? I urge you to take pause from the instantaneous solutions and gratifications in your life. Climb more mountains. Do things the hard way. Stop thinking that focused time is a waste, and give yourself a gift of singular-tasks. Don’t give up when things are muddy or unclear. Don’t be afraid to fail, but go on, steadily up that mountain. Practice your craft, even when it means writing your synopsis or your back cover blurb, or that query letter…those are part of the journey. When you skip things, you miss out on more neural connections. More neural connections will lead to “Aha!” moments. Use your goddamn brain and don’t let the screen think for you. Get out of your echo chambers. Meet new people. Take an unrelated class. Read something you wouldn’t normally.

Why bother? Because human experience and potential is fading, right before our eyes. It’s being replaced by a strange and candy-coated lie. A shadow of what we are capable of. Our lives are being played out behind filtered photos and 25 second reels. And that life experience is no place to create from. Dig deeper. Give a damn about your short and beautiful trip. Make it count.