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I had a breakthrough with my memoir, Pilgrimage of Desire.

I was at my Thursday night Just Write meetup as usual. I wasn’t looking forward to working on the book. Ever since I picked it up again in February, writing sessions have ranged from discouraging to excruciating. In three months, I have managed to do the following:

  1. Read through the manuscript (and become convinced that the whole thing is awful).
  2. Read some journal entries from our time in Malaysia (heartsick with missing it).
  3. Do some exercises from Cate’s Re-Entry Reality book.
  4. Freewrite some random crap.
  5. Post a blog article (You Can’t Bake a Cake Without a Cake Pan).
  6. Write ONE paragraph.

The manuscript has been like a solid sheet of ice, cold and unyielding. I bloodied my fingernails trying to prize in that one paragraph. I tormented myself with thoughts that the book would never open to me again, that I would have to walk away leaving it half-formed.

Then last week, as I re-read Chapter 10 yet again, my heart was warmed with love for the words, for the person I’d been when I lived and wrote those scenes. They were good. I wanted to add to them. I tested the ice with my foot, and just like that it gave way, breaking apart to lively water underneath. I inserted a sentence. I reshaped a paragraph from my journal and placed it in. A new paragraph appeared, spontaneous and playful.

I was writing!

After 90 minutes, I had 997 new words in Chapter 10. Relief? Enormous. Suddenly I could imagine working on the book in the mornings, finishing a few chapters on a writing retreat. Pilgrimage had let me in again.

This experience reminded me of resistance. Because the difference between the book one week and the next was so palpable. To change analogies, it was as though an electric fence around the text, buzzing and menacing, had suddenly been switched off. I thought about how Steven Pressfield describes Resistance as a force field, repelling you away from the work.

I do believe that resistance is real, even though I disagree with a lot of advice for dealing with it.

Forcing yourself to work, citing discipline and “turning pro,” seems to me as foolish as crossing a live electric fence.

Yes, you might make it, but what damage will the voltage do? Wouldn’t it be better to cut the power first and cross over unharmed?

Before this great writing session, I read a post from Anne Lamott about the excuses people give for not writing, and how they’re “a total crock. There will never be a good time to write. It will never be easier. If you won’t find an hour a day now, you won’t find it them.”

The answer, Anne says, is just to decide to write.

I know there are people who need to hear her message, but I also know I’m not one of them. The reason I hadn’t been writing for an hour a day was because the electric fence was still humming. Pilgrimage was telling me she wasn’t ready yet, and I wasn’t ready. Maybe this sounds like an excuse, but I humbly suggest that my weekly Meetup appointments with her attest to the fact that I was not giving up, even while not hurling myself uselessly at that high-voltage fence every day. When I couldn’t write, I found safe things to do around the perimeter.

So why did the electric fence around Pilgrimage suddenly go off?

I don’t know exactly why, but I have a few guesses.

  • Because the spring weather and the flowers have been glorious.
  • Because I’ve been working with my coach on how to re-engage with the book.
  • Because I wrote Pilgrimage a love letter back in March.
  • Because I read a Facebook post from Danielle LaPorte that said, “Enjoy your sadness. It won’t last long.”
  • Because I said a channeling prayer beforehand.
  • Because I’ve been biking.
  • Because I have proven my faithfulness every Thursday.
  • Because I published an update about how things are going.
  • Because enough time has passed.

This is just a theory, but I think that the current running through an electric fence is emotion. Mine was charged with grief, disappointment, nostalgia, and shame. A potent mix. Faced with all that emotion, it’s not enough just to say, “Write even when you don’t feel like it.” The emotion must be acknowledged and worked through. You can’t think or act your way around it.

The line between waiting and making excuses is a fine one, to be sure. But I trust myself to know which side I’m on.

I trust that I am not lazy. I trust my writing intentions. I trust my instinct that forcing would be harmful.

So, to answer my question in the headline.

When do you make a creative push and when do you wait?

You ask yourself.

Will pushing feel like healthy exertion or like being electrocuted?

Will waiting feel like patient presence or like evasion?

Then you pick the one that feels respectful of the work and of your writing desires. You don’t listen to the people saying “Real writers write every day,” or “Writing will never get easier.”

If you’re waiting, you make a regular appointment with your work and you keep testing the fence. Is it still on? What’s powering it? Is the voltage weakening? Do you want to look for the off switch?

And if you decide to push, you begin carefully, warming up and building slowly. You check in to make sure the pushing isn’t damaging you or the work.

Trust that you are not lazy. Trust your creative intentions. Trust your instincts about pushing or waiting. 

And keep showing up.


Here’s the love letter I wrote to Pilgrimage. You can see it’s pretty emotional. I still feel strongly about her, but now it’s more like an electric blanket than an electric fence.

Dearest,

I love you and I miss you. I’m sorry that I’ve dealt with my painful feelings about you by ignoring you. That’s not fair to you, and it doesn’t help me in the long run either. We’ve had outside things keeping us apart ~ the summer busyness and our move and my illness and the other book ~ but I’ve also kept myself away from you because I didn’t want to know how much love or fear was there. But we both deserve better than that.

You deserve to shine in your fullness, to have your beautiful pages turned, to catch people’s tears and laughter, to see their epiphanies. You are worth any money. And I deserve to have you move through me, in all your pain and truth and delight. I deserve to deliver you to the world. Apologies for the melodrama, but you bring out the depths of me. No creative work has ever asked for more of me (although I know there will be others in the future). But the fact that you scour me out tells me that this is important work we’re doing together.

I do believe that the time we’ve spent apart will make you stronger and better. Your joy will be cut with bittersweet. You are more dimensional, and I am wiser in the way of cycles.

You make me want to be a better woman. More courageous, more self-caring, more in integrity. If no one else is touched by a sentence of you, you have been my teacher. My labyrinth. My mirror. You are worth the sacrifice, because you pay back a hundredfold.

Dearest, let’s begin again. I’ll be gentle. I won’t try to force myself back into your graces, I’ll approach deferentially, and we’ll find our rhythm again. I never could force you to come to me; you deserve to be courted. “You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you,” to quote Mr. Darcy.

“Curiosity does, no less than devotion, pilgrims make.” — Abraham Cowley

Let us continue this pilgrimage of desire. I am ready to be broken open again.

A. xoxo

Tell me. Have you pushed? Have you waited? How do you decide which to do when?

Photo Credit: Randy Son Of Robert via Compfight cc

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Sidewalk labyrinth in our new neighbourhood of Kitsilano

In January, I felt like mush. 

Like I was rebuilding everything I knew about myself and my life. I went to a retreat with Jen Louden on Bainbridge Island, and when she asked us to choose a new name for ourselves, I picked Stardust. It spoke to me of the elemental, the unformed, the diffuse. Jen’s teaching encouraged me to go back to my long-ago study of the feminine journey, and I realized that I was not back at the beginning as I had thought. Rather, I was entering my third act.

I needed to gather support.

I was in the process of ghostwriting a book for a client, and I needed a nurturing environment to do that. I was finding it hard to get things done at home ~ I felt lonely, and it was too easy to waste time or do housework.

So I researched co-working offices and arranged to visit three downtown. This endeavour gave me some excitement and a sense of purpose. I also met with a guy, Mitchell, who was starting a co-working office in my neighbourhood. We discovered that we lived basically on the same block in Kitsilano! I thought he was a really sweet, terrific guy and I hoped he actually got his enterprise off the ground.

I also searched on Meetup.com and found a group that was like coffee-shop co-working for writers. It’s called Just Write Vancouver, and it has weekly meetings all over the city where people gather with their laptops and notebooks and just write. I started a Kitsilano group on Thursday nights, and there I met great writers who were all dedicated to their projects and their writing time.

Finally, in February, I finished the ghostwritten book! 

Some of my most productive sessions were at Just Write meetups or on my coworking days. And slowly I started getting back to work on Pilgrimage of Desire. I thought I would work on it full time, or at least a few days a week, but . . .

Alright, let me tell you about my work life. For seven years, I worked full-time as a tech writer for a software company. Then I quit in 2005 and did freelance technical writing and editing. I started my creativity coaching practice in 2010, but I still took writing contracts as I was building my business.

Between kids, travel, writing, and contracting, I haven’t made the time to build coaching into a full-time income. Many wonderful things have come of my foray into entrepreneurship:

  • I have worked with amazing writers and artists, and I have been privileged to accompany them on a leg of their journey to wholeness and flow.
  • I have expanded my professional network and made new friends.
  • I have learned sales, marketing, and copywriting.
  • I’m really proud of what I’ve written for my blog at www.gresik.ca.
  • Training as a coach and then articulating my philosophy of the art-committed life has loosened and strengthened my own artistic practice so much. I am a much more prolific, more inspired, more relaxed, more confident writer than I was three years ago.

As wonderful as these results are, they have not been accompanied by a big cash flow. Which I’m okay with. My life is still unfolding, and I know that nothing is wasted. I do believe I could build a viable coaching practice if I made it my priority and put the required labour into it.

But I know that coaching is not my first love. Writing is.

I pursued coaching in the first place because I wanted to make my living doing meaningful work. Tech writing felt hollow. It sucked the life out of me. I was good at it but it didn’t feed me.

With coaching, I had part of the equation. Meaningful work, check. Making my living, not so much. So I continued to take contracts. Then, a year ago, I got a different kind of client. He wanted to write a book to help people live more meaningful lives and make the world a better place. He hired me to do that for him, and you know what? Writing that book was easy. Not in the sense that I didn’t exert myself, but in the sense that I knew what to do ~ I had all the skills and knowledge I needed, and I brought them to bear with persistence and confidence.

So here I am in Vancouver, a very expensive city.

My kids are in daycare and gymnastics and art lessons. We started skiing, because how can you not ski when you live 20 minutes from a mountain? All that stuff we sold two years ago? We had to buy a whole bunch of it again (mostly secondhand, hooray for Craigslist!). We need two incomes at the moment. So I’m working full-time for the first time since we had kids six years ago.

Mitchell came through and I joined his new co-working office, Suite Genius. Every morning by 9 am I bike over with my laptop on my back. I work and work and work ~ copywriting, creating content strategy, and overseeing my client’s publishing and launch process. I have blocked all the naughty stuff I use to procrastinate (Metafilter and Boingboing and Facebook) using Chrome Nanny. I log my billable hours in FreshBooks ~ five hours in a day is a good day. Then I bike home and pick up the kids from their afterschool program. Throw some dinner together. Put a load of laundry in. Maybe watch an episode of Mad Men with Shawn and fall asleep.

Dude. Working full-time is hard!

The memories are all coming back to me.

  • So tired.
  • So behind on my email. I answer the urgent stuff and the rest just piles up alongside my guilt.
  • So squeezed. Like everything must happen back-to-back with no space to breathe.
  • So sad about not working on my memoir.

Thank goodness for my Thursday night writer’s meetup. It’s my guarantee that I’ll work on my book for at least three hours every week. I’m here now, writing this. At my last session, it took all night to write one new paragraph, the first one I’ve written since last September.

Tonight I was handwriting in my notebook, dredging up memories of working for that software company.

And I’m realizing I’m back in that place. In some ways. Not all ways, because the work I’m doing now feels meaningful and interesting and fun. But in the way of being tired and overwhelmed a lot of the time. And in the way of feeling swamped and always having 20 good reasons not to write.

And I’ve been thinking about you all. 

You are thousands of writers and artists from around the world who visit this site so I can talk to you. Be of service to you. Remind you you’re not alone.

For months I haven’t been able to blog because I didn’t know what the hell was going on with me or my business. I was sick and barely keeping my head above water. I had very little creative energy.

But I can feel my mojo coming back. The surge of inspiration that led to this letter. The craving to write that is no longer being sated by working on my client’s book. The way forward is coming into focus, the way I will re-create my art-committed life in this new place, under new conditions.

I am gathering support for my third act. 

That support takes the form of people, places, and systems that act as the cake pan for my gooey batter-y stardust self. Labyrinths that channel my creative energy in the meandering but relentless path toward the centre.

So that’s what I’d like to share with you, and that’s what I’d like to hear back from you. I don’t have all the answers; I’m still learning what works. But I am hopeful. And I am better with company.

Here’s today’s step forward.

Would you come to my Facebook page and tell me what your centre is right now? What is the touchstone creative project that compels you to keep moving toward an art-committed life? What’s the vision that won’t let you go, that dogs you day and night waiting for you to make it real?

Mine is Pilgrimage of Desire, of course. I’d love to hear about yours.

In love and solidarity,

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P.S. Oh! I should tell you that I’m still coaching. I even have a Vancouver client who comes to my co-working office for sessions! You’re always welcome to book a free intro session with me if you’re interested in focused, personal support in designing your art-committed life.

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Many of us writers and artists are in the position of needing to stir up some buzz around our books and creations.

  • We’ve published with a small press that gave us $75 for wine at the book launch and said “You’re on your own.”
  • We’ve opened an online store that needs more customers.
  • We’ve launched a literary magazine and are trying to get the word out.

With all the fuss about online marketing and social media these days, it can be easy to overlook a tried-and-true source of exposure: public relations (PR).

Brigitte Lyons is running a course called Your Media Map: The inside guide to getting the coverage you deserve starting in February 2013, which is just the thing for writers and artists who want more people to know about them.

Brigitte is offering training bonuses, including a free call, for those who sign up on her Media Map interest list, so do that if you’re at all, ah, interested!

I was privileged to take an earlier version of Brigitte’s course last May. I knew that doing PR would be an important skill for releasing Pilgrimage of Desire, my travel memoir. And the way Brigitte writes and teaches is right up my alley: high-quality information pared down to the essentials, lots of personality and stories to keep things interesting, clear and useful assignments, and a great group of enthusiastic classmates.

And here’s Brigitte in her own words to tell you why PR is a great opportunity for creators like us.

Alison: I find that the issue of marketing and publicity for artists ~ and particularly writers ~ is a touchy one, because there’s this sense that “I wrote the book, why should I have to sell it? I’ve done my job, now the publisher/publicist should do his/hers.”

In some ways it’s a holdover from days gone by when authors didn’t need to do more than show up and do the interviews and readings that were arranged for them, but that world is disappearing. I think it’s especially difficult for mid-career writers who didn’t start off with blogs and social media, and who are now getting thrown into the deep end.

So I wonder, what do you say to artists and writers who are feeling resistant or a little cranky about having to do their own publicity? 

Brigitte: I can relate to the frustration ~ it seems as though everyone’s primary job is to be a marketer. In the book To Sell is Human, Dan Pink even goes so far as to say, “We’re all in sales now.”

While this can feel like a burden, I always encourage my clients to look at the opportunity in the new marketplace. Not too long ago, you weren’t expected to promote your own books, but you also lacked the opportunity to ensure your stories reached the right readers. If your publisher didn’t throw their weight behind you (which only benefitted the flagship writers for the publishing house), that was it. You couldn’t make your own fame or fortune.

That’s all changed. You can create a direct line to readers and thought-leaders. You aren’t subject to the whims and budget considerations of a publishing house any longer.

Alison: Another issue I see is that artists and writers are uncomfortable thinking of themselves as a brand, and they want to keep all of the focus on their work. Or they don’t like having to apply labels or genres to their work; they don’t want to put it into a box. And yet the audience needs to be able to quickly and easily see whether a book or creation is something they’d like or not.

How can artists and writers make peace with the need to communicate clearly about their work without undermining its nuance or uniqueness?

Brigitte: This is a challenge for every creator ~ how do you distill an idea that looms so large into two or three talking points? A lot of artists and writers get stuck on the notion they need to project this perfectly packaged brand, and it prevents them from moving forward. I’d rather people get out of their own way, and if that means that you go to the public without the illusive and fictitious unicorn that is perfect branding, that’s okay.

Ultimately, your brand is your core message. Whether you paint or write or sculpt, there’s an emotion you want to explore or a conflict waiting to unfold. That’s what you need to communicate. The rest is just details.

Alison: Self-publishing is also creating waves in that a lot of authors come out of the gate very aggressively with publicity. Sometimes there seems to be more effort put into promotion than into the creation of the book itself. So it comes across as all hype and no substance. And I think literary writers are worried that that impression is going to rub off on them ~ that if they’re too loud, people will assume their books aren’t any good. (We just secretly long for great books to sell themselves, and it seems very unjust when they don’t.)

Is there a classy way to do PR that won’t look like we’re trying too hard or overcompensating for less-than-great work?

Brigitte: PR is the way out of this conundrum, because it’s all about helping other people tell your story. Rather than writing a dozen blog posts about yourself, you send review copies to people your readers or buyers respect, and let these influencers tell your story. Or, you contact a popular podcast about doing an interview, and they draw out the highlights of your release.

You may have to pitch yourself behind the scenes (and there are ways to do it without feeling gross), but in the public’s eye, you don’t look like you’re grasping for attention. You retain the opportunity to be humble, or even private, about your work.

Alison: Many of us in the art and literary world are coming to PR with no background, just a need to figure it out. And the old, obvious places to start, like book review sections of newspapers, are going the way of the dodo.

What approach do you teach for finding traditional and new media outlets that can create publicity for writers and artists in the current climate? How do we look for opportunities to pitch?

Brigitte: I’ll give you one tip that you can implement in 2 minutes. Set up a Google alert for another writer or artist who’s already out there. The news outlets and blogs that feature your peers are going to be very interested in hearing from you.

Also, as an artist, I imagine you are also an art consumer. Where do you look for fresh perspectives? This is a great place to start, because you can approach the editors or reporters with genuine enthusiasm for their product.

Alison: We already have so much to learn ~ we’re trying to read widely and look at a lot of art, find the time to improve our craft and get finished work out there, find representation.

Is it really worth taking the time and money to figure out media marketing too? Will developing this skill serve us even when we do make it and have a professional publisher or distributor behind us?

Brigitte: It’s worth taking the time to find your right approach, which is the magic place where your personality matches up with the preferences of your audience. Not everyone has to blog or Tweet or even do media interviews. If you put in a little effort up front to understand what your audience wants and which strategies work for you, then you’ll save yourself a lot of pain down the road.

PR is a good approach for you if you don’t want to constantly struggle with your outreach, because it’s all about targeted outreach to the right people. Why haul the boulder uphill, when you can use PR as the lever to give your message momentum?

Brigitte Lyons is a media strategist for independent businesses and artists, who has helped clients get coverage in media outlets as diverse as CNN, Daily Candy, Entrepreneur magazine, The Wall Street Journal and Design*Sponge. She dishes free PR tips and is the creator of Your Media Map – an 8-week course that systematically eliminates the barriers to getting the PR coverage you deserve.

Full disclosure: Brigitte has given me lifetime access to the program as an early beta-tester for her material. What with all the personal goings-on, I haven’t had a chance to implement what I learned the first time around, so I’m excited to do this expanded version of the course and create a media strategy for the release of Pilgrimage of Desire.

P.S. Get on the Media Map interest list to access free training bonuses from Tara Gentile, Tara Sophia Mohr, and Megan Auman. Good stuff!

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