BREATHING UNDER WATER - BY CAROL BIELECK
I built my house by the sea.
Not on the sands, mind you;
not on the shifting sand.
And I built it of rock.
A strong house
by a strong sea.
And we got well acquainted, the sea and I.
Not that we spoke much.
We met in silences.
Respectful, keeping our distance,
but looking our thoughts across the fence of sand.
Always the fence of sand our barrier,
always, the sand between.
And then one day,
- and still I don't know how it happened -
the sea came.
Without welcome, even.
Not sudden and swift, but a shifting across the sand
less like the flow of water than the flow of blood.
Slow, but coming.
Slow, but flowing like an open wound.
And I thought of flight and I thought of drowning
and I thought of death.
And while I thought the sea crept higher, till it
reached my door.
And I knew then, there was nether flight, nor death,
That when the sea comes calling you stop being
Well acquainted, friendly-at-a-distance, neighbors
and you give your house for a coral castle,
and you learn to breathe underwater.
I believe that our writing intentions and our explorations (curiosities) in life are about a desire for wholeness, for completion. Life is not a worthiness competition. Life ultimately ends the same for all of us. (Spoiler alert: we all die). On the first day of my Social Work class through the UW, I write this on the board: "You have nothing to prove and everything to learn (and share)." Just so. In our writing and life -- nothing to prove. Everything to learn and share. Everything to explore.
Our curiosity acts as our gills. Our curiosity gives us the ability to breathe under water and to be present with what is. Our curiosity, without pressure to figure things out a certain way, takes us to where we want to be. As we write and explore we will discover what we need for this moment.
Sometimes we are hit by that ocean, whether it be a loss of a dear friend, an addiction, a betrayal, an aloneness, or some other trauma or disappointment. And when we stay with it, be with the experience, write about it, we learn how to breathe underwater. And so will your readers.
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Here’s what I know: When (not if) you find your way to the page in a consistent manner this transformation will show up on your page. Whether you write poetry, fiction, autobiographical fiction, creative nonfiction, blogs or memoir.
Whatever stops you from taking your world to word translates into what prevents every-day people from being transformed and taking action based on your writing. That’s what makes writing so transformative for the writer and the reader.
Whatever comes up for you in your life can be part of your writing experience. When you allow your personal experience to be transformed on the page, through your writing, the reader is then given a transformative experience.
Write about the denial, the fear, the loneliness, the joy, the questions, the encounters, the disasters and disruptions. Write about what you lost and how you found it.
Take notes on your life.
The thing that stops you from writing is likely offering up the most transformative dynamic for you and the reader.
So, what's stopping you from writing? Not enough time? Some secret doubt? Don’t feel the heat of the urgency? You wonder, "So what and who cares?" In the big scheme of things, does this matter? I will upset my mother, my sister, my neighbor, the spirit of my father. I won't make a difference; I won't make any money; I won't get published. I don't trust myself. I don't trust the reader. I'll be rejected. Did I mention, so what and who cares?
Imagine working through these on the page. When you do, you will be transformed. You will have moved through the fear, doubt, and resistance, and importantly, so then will your future reader. I write about what I’m working out too. And when I meet up with resistance or any of the other myriad of hindrances, writing through them translates to a stronger, clearer message for my readers.
What’s stopping you? . . whatever it is, get it down. Face it on the page. And watch your world transform.
I will be at Sjolinds this coming Tuesday September 17th to write and to meet-up. Join me between 9 and 1:00. I'm available for free consultations on your writing.
Want some one-to-one help with your writing? I'm available for individual Sherpa-Mentoring and Sherpa-Coaching.
“Every day, think as you wake up: Today I am fortunate to be alive, I have a precious human life, I am not going to waste it.” – His Holiness the 14th Dalai Lama
I started my memoir about 8 months ago. Then put it aside. Then I picked it up again, and then, set it aside. Much like writing my novel . . . this experience could take decades. That's Okay. Writing takes as long as it takes. Then again, how much time do I have to finish this book? The clock is ticking (can you hear your own?); days are passing, just how committed am I to this project?
I'm in. I'm committed.
I want to use this memoir as a way to explore and understand a certain aspect of my life. (Relationships with men.) Courageous wouldn't you say? So every day I am dedicating some writing time to this project. I have taught an on-line memoir writing course through the UW, that Sue Roupp now teaches. I mentor many memoirists. And, I have devoured many a good memoirs. Now it's time to write my own. (I've written self-help books, spiritual books, blogs, short stories and finished my novel). Time to dig into my memoir.
Are you writing a memoir?
If yes, there's a one day workshop coming up you will want to attend!:
"Memoirs are one of the fastest growing genres in the publishing industry. This one-day retreat offers sessions for emerging and established memoir writers. Nationally recognized instructors Julie Tallard Johnson, Sue Roupp, and Coleman join session director Laurie Scheer for a day devoted to developing, writing, and revising your memoir. Three manuscript critique groups available; submit your first 10 pages for feedback from your instructor and your peers." – Laurie Scheer, Faculty Associate, Writing Mentor, Director, 31st Annual Writers’ Institute, March 26-29, 2020, UW-Madison
Here is a link to this upcoming: WRITE YOUR MEMOIR FAST AND SURE held on Saturday October 19th, 2019. On the beautiful Madison campus. October 19, Pyle Center, contact firstname.lastname@example.org for information.
Also, I have room for ONE MORE in my Praire Writer's Circle in Prairie du Sac. We meet up the first Wednesday night of the month. Contact me for more information: email@example.com
if you move carefully
through the forest,
like the ones
in the old stories,
who could cross
a shimmering bed of leaves
without a sound,
you come to a place
whose only task
is to trouble you
but frightening requests,
conceived out of nowhere
but in this place
beginning to lead everywhere.
Requests to stop what
you are doing right now,
to stop what you
while you do it,
that can make
that have patiently
waited for you,
that have no right
to go away.
by David Whyte
“To be an antiracist is a radical choice in the face of (our) history, requiring a radical reorientation of our consciousness.” – Ibrah X. Kendi, How To Be An Antiracist
Words, well used, can regenerate conversations. Words can create new ways of thinking and approaching old topics. Words well placed and with good intentions can bring people together to help us forge courageously through difficult times. A good narrative, either through story or speech can influence and get people to act.
Words recruit, get people to sign on the dotted line; they even convince them to hand over their ideals and money.
The first few pages of a book either loses or hooks our readers.
How we frame our experiences (with thoughts, assumptions, desires, fears) creates our experiences. Our beliefs determine our actions. So, whoever or whatever influences our beliefs and view of the world, affects our actions.
There is a danger that we are becoming a nation of bystanders through our reading and responding to Twitter, sending texts, and feeling satisfied with ourselves if we respond to a good blog (on our phones). Retweeting a Twitter (I do this way too much) is not taking action.
If our words (even a good fiction) isn’t a call to authentic engagement then really, what’s the point? Don’t you want to influence your reader in some way so they can’t not act? An action may simply mean heading to the beach because the reader has meant to all summer (and the character in the novel died of inactivity and loneliness).
Or a writer’s words may compel you toward civil disobedience.
How are you inspiriting others, your readers to be engaged, to take some action?
My novel, tentatively titled SHIFT, (the first book of 2) is all about the internal journey, though lots of shit happens to force her on this inner journey. She comes to realize what she is capable of. Isn’t it good for each of us to know and act on our capabilities? Take risks. Shake things up (even if this just means going to the crowded beach?) Though it is fiction, I use real places and events to help make my message more real, and urgent. This book also reflects my belief that for any outer revolution to take place, an internal shift must first take place inside individuals.
Hold yourself to this :No matter what you are writing, when you are ready to share it with readers, consider how your words will call the reader to action.
“Am I crazy?" she asked. "I feel like I am sometimes."
"Maybe," he said, rubbing her forehead. "But don't worry about it. You need to be a little bit crazy. Crazy is the price you pay for having an imagination. It's your superpower. Tapping into the dream. It's a good thing not a bad thing.” ― Ruth Ozeki, A Tale for the Time Being
We can’t afford to sit on the comfortable deck chair of this big beautiful cruise ship (earth) and expect the cocktails to come to us. The boat is headed to an iceberg (due to climate change). Better that we aren’t so comfortable. As a writer you can help people feel the ocean’s movement and the approach of the iceberg. You can ignite in them their own means of engagement and potential.
Even in my reporting for the local small-town paper, my intention is to capture the story in the board meetings that may stir my readers to engagement. Personal narrative is not allowed in these articles where I report on a local town board meeting. But there is story there. There are many calls to get involved. And my ear and pen find them.
Make your readers uncomfortable. Yes, give them some relief and means to the emergencies, but not too much. Make them at least get up to get their own damn cocktail. (The rocky walk to the lounge may generate some awareness.)
“In How to Be an Antiracist, Kendi takes readers through a widening circle of antiracist ideas––from the most basic concepts to visionary possibilities–– that will help readers see all forms of racism clearly, understand their poisonous consequences and work to oppose them in our systems and in ourselves.” On the book jacket’s inside flap of Ibrah X. Kendi’s, How To Be An Antiracist
So, what dear Writer, is your call(s) to action?
“The only remedy to racist discrimination is antiracist discrimination. The only remedy to past discrimination is present discrimination. The only remedy to present discrimination is future discrimination.” – Ibrah X. Kendi, How To Be An Antiracist
“Of course, ordinary White people benefit from racist policies, though not nearly as much as racist power and not nearly as much as they could from an equitable society, one where the average White voter could have as much power as superrich White men to decide elections and shape policy.” –Ibrah X. Kendi, How To Be An Antiracist. (page 129)
“Life is fleeting. Don't waste a single moment of your precious life. Wake up now! And now! And now!”
― Ruth Ozeki, A Tale for the Time Being
I have room for one more in my Tuesday morning Writers’ Circle that meets once a month in Mount Horeb. Starts up the 2nd Tuesday in October. Join us!
Also openings left in my upcoming (evening) RED THREAD CIRCLE. A transformational circle that meets up once a month in Prairie du Sac. Starts Thursday September 12th.
I will be at Sjolind’s this coming TUESDAY, August 27th from 9:00 till 1:00. Join me to write and visit, get some free consultation on something you’re working on. Great coffee, chocolate and pastries.
It’s been awhile since I sent out a blog. It’s been awhile for a lot of things, actually—some that matter, some that don’t. Big changes in my life over the past several years along with the tragic narrative of our nation right now made me stop putting myself out there in ways I was accustomed to.
But that’s okay.
Because here I am—I’m back.
I took an accidental sabbatical from this blog, from offering my monthly transformational circles, and from working on my Red Thread book. (I had finished it about three years ago.) Pivotal shifts in our lives are good times to reflect, take a break from our routines, and assess what no longer serves us or fits . . . to explore and try new things. Transformational times can be good for detours and what might feel or appear to others as the wrong way to go.
In this interval I wrote less. I walked a lot and found yoga again. I took on a teaching job through the University of Wisconsin, Madison. I became a proud member of Al-Anon. I moved to Mount Horeb from our forty acres outside Spring Green. None of these are better or problematic, right or wrong, just paths taken.
Along with our sabbaticals and breaks in routine, I find that we may make choices that look wrong and are certainly a detour from our usual path. For example, I realize that sometimes compassion has a fist. Sometimes we need to risk being in the wrong company so we can sit at their table and remind ourselves that we have nothing to prove but everything to share and learn. We don’t need to be with people (for very long) whom we don’t like. (And it’s okay not to like someone!) Be yourself even when it makes others uncomfortable. We don’t owe anyone anything (and vice-versa). We can allow people to come and go as they choose. It’s also okay to try something out only to reject it; to start something up and decide to not finish it.
We can break promises and move on.
A few months ago, I decided to reclaim my place in the bigger story. And no matter how discouraged or tired I was, to bring something to the communal table. I also needed to let myself do things the wrong way. (What others might consider the wrong way.)
On my walk through Stewart Park the other morning we (my dogs and I) were detoured to a path that had signs that read “WRONG WAY.” We went on this detour because the path through the marsh was being reseeded.
So, in order to do the right thing, to protect the regeneration of the marsh, we had to go the wrong way.
This got me thinking (and writing this blog once again), on just how important it can be to take a detour from our typical way(s) of doing things. Even if a path has been made for us, we can give it time to reseed before we walk it.
I believe it’s important for each of us to stay active in our own personal narrative as well as the national narrative and not to become numbed or silenced because the negative overwhelms or discourages us. Or, we feel that we have to become like the monsters that we fight. And there are monsters. Over the course of my life I’ve learned how to confront and challenge my internal monsters, however, the outer ones at this time appear undeterred and relentless.
Our republic and our democracy is at a very real risk of failing. Violence is on the rise and racism and hate have larger platforms than ever before. In the past I’ve found ways to navigate relationships with those who are narcissistic and vengeful. Now we have a sitting president whose ugliness brings out the ugliness in us and around us. He also mirrors our internalized racism, which no one in America has escaped.
What do I, what do we, do with that? What can we do?
To deal with the bullies in our lives, to let the good get reseeded, and to remain in the conversation we may sometimes have to take a detour and go the wrong way for the right reasons.
To get a seat at the table (or to keep one), to be a voice in the room, to make a difference (or at least try)—these are my reasons for writing you, for sending this blog. This is one small way I reach out and make contact.
This is part of my process of reseeding my path so that I may walk forward on it.
After some time spent in detour mode, I finally did get a publisher for my Red Thread book, which will be released in April of 2020. I am starting up my monthly transformational circle based on that book this September (see below), and I am finding ways to be part of the needed reseeding that our communities and country need. We can't; I can't keep taking the worn path.
In all of this, I’m keeping my seat at the table and finding new paths to take, both on my own and together with others.
Monthly Transformative Circle: The Red Thread: Touching Reality (and being Heroic) in our Everyday Lives at Healing Services on the River in Prairie Du Sac. Learn more and sign up. Starts this September 12th.
TO BREAK A PROMISE
Make a place of prayer, no fuss,
just lean into the white brilliance
and say what you needed to say
all along, nothing too much, words
as simple and as yours and as heard
as the bird song above your head
or the river running gently beside you.
Let your words join
one to another
the way stone nestles on stone,
the way water just leaves
and goes to the sea,
the way your promise
breathes and belongs
with every other promise
the world has ever made.
Now, leave them to go on,
let your words
carry their own life
without you, let the promise
go with the river.
Have faith. Walk away. TO BREAK A PROMISE from
THE SEA IN YOU:Twenty Poems of Requited and Unrequited Love’ © David Whyte and Many Rivers Press
Now Available at davidwhyte.com
The Long Night Moon
I cast my spell
on this eve of the Long Night Moon
To be graced
of you of us
as we truly are
This moon knows me well.
How I have prayed to Her
to end my stretch of sorrow.
A spell this time to be known
My feeder with chickadee
And Her song
To be graced and lit
to be met
in darkness and in light
with stranger and friend.
to know you
and be known
The spell is cast
the door opened
I prepare my life for your arrival.
A meal for two or more
An empty coat hook
A pair of house shoes, your size
And my heart
set next to the built-in writing desk
A place for you
and for The Other too
when you arrive.
“Long Night Moon Ritual” by Julie Tallard Johnson
“Authoritarian regimes, dictators, despots are often, but not always, fools. But none is foolish enough to give perceptive, dissident writers free range to publish their judgments or follow their creative instincts. They know they do so at their own peril. They are not stupid enough to abandon control (overt or insidious) over media. Their methods include surveillance, censorship, arrest, even slaughter of those writers informing and disturbing the public. Writers who are unsettling, calling into question, taking another, deeper look. Writers—journalists, essayists, bloggers, poets, playwrights—can disturb the social oppression that functions like a coma on the population, a coma despots call peace, and they stanch the blood flow of war that hawks and profiteers thrill to. That is their peril.
Ours is of another sort. How bleak, unlivable, insufferable existence becomes when we are deprived of artwork. That the life and work of writers facing peril must be protected is urgent, but along with that urgency we should remind ourselves that their absence, the choking off of a writer’s work, its cruel amputation, is of equal peril to us. The rescue we extend to them is a generosity to ourselves.
We all know nations that can be identified by the flight of writers from their shores. These are regimes whose fear of unmonitored writing is justified because truth is trouble. It is trouble for the warmonger, the torturer, the corporate thief, the political hack, the corrupt justice system, and for a comatose public. Unpersecuted, unjailed, unharassed writers are trouble for the ignorant bully, the sly racist, and the predators feeding off the world’s resources. The alarm, the disquiet, writers raise is instructive because it is open and vulnerable, because if unpoliced it is threatening. Therefore the historical suppression of writers is the earliest harbinger of the steady peeling away of additional rights and liberties that will follow. The history of persecuted writers is as long as the history of literature itself. And the efforts to censor, starve, regulate, and annihilate us are clear signs that something important has taken place. Cultural and political forces can sweep clean all but the “safe,” all but state-approved art.
I have been told that there are two human responses to the perception of chaos: naming and violence. When the chaos is simply the unknown, the naming can be accomplished effortlessly—a new species, star, formula, equation, prognosis. There is also mapping, charting, or devising proper nouns for unnamed or stripped-of-names geography, landscape, or population. When chaos resists, either by reforming itself or by rebelling against imposed order, violence is understood to be the most frequent response and the most rational when confronting the unknown, the catastrophic, the wild, wanton, or incorrigible. Rational responses may be censure; incarceration in holding camps, prisons; or death, singly or in war. There is, however, a third response to chaos, which I have not heard about, which is stillness. Such stillness can be passivity and dumbfoundedness; it can be paralytic fear. But it can also be art. Those writers plying their craft near to or far from the throne of raw power, of military power, of empire building and countinghouses, writers who construct meaning in the face of chaos must be nurtured, protected. And it is right that such protection be initiated by other writers. And it is imperative not only to save the besieged writers but to save ourselves. The thought that leads me to contemplate with dread the erasure of other voices, of unwritten novels, poems whispered or swallowed for fear of being overheard by the wrong people, outlawed languages flourishing underground, essayists’ questions challenging authority never being posed, unstaged plays, canceled films—that thought is a nightmare. As though a whole universe is being described in invisible ink.
Certain kinds of trauma visited on peoples are so deep, so cruel, that unlike money, unlike vengeance, even unlike justice, or rights, or the goodwill of others, only writers can translate such trauma and turn sorrow into meaning, sharpening the moral imagination. A writer’s life and work are not a gift to mankind; they are its necessity.”
Morrison, Toni. The Source of Self-Regard . Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group.
Join me and others for free retreats and writing circles. I have one opening in my Tuesday morning Writing Circle (meets monthly, begins in October).
My yoga studio closed down. I was left without my weekly yoga classes. And with this closure went much of my yoga community. Like identifying myself as a writer, I am also a Yogi. But it’s hard to practice yoga alone at home. I pull out my mat and do some asanas but not for the full hour I get from class. Also missing is the connection to the teacher (who was phenomenal), and the other yoga students who gifted me with community. There are also some postures that I just don’t like doing at home alone, sans support.
I am in search of another yoga teacher and studio that works for me, where I can practice my yoga and build my community. I’m sure to find one because I believe that which I am searching for is also searching for me (be it a publisher, lover or yoga teacher). Everything happens through these connections.
My writing and transformational circles are based on Parker J Palmer’s circles of trust and 30 years of my own research and work on forming safe and dynamic circles. My first book, published in 1989, included setting up healing groups for families and friends of those with chronic mental illness. I made sure that the publisher (Doubleday) didn’t use the word “cope” in the title. Getting drunk every day is a way to cope, just not a skillful one. I left a Sangha after a decade of participation when I realized it was community I truly sought, not enlightenment. They lacked the community element.
In my writing circles we form bonds where we are able to explore our capacities as writers, get encouragement and guidance. Everyones writing improves as you participate in circle. A consistency of showing up to circle cultivates our writing (or yoga) practice. Showing up on the mat or to the page is elemental to our success as yogis and writers.
Joining others helps us show up to the page.
Join me and other writers in safe and dynamic circles. I have a few openings in my writing circles starting this September and October. (My Tuesday morning one in Mount Horeb is small with only 6 writers. I have room for 2 more). With my circles you give yourself community, encouragement, and some of the best mentoring and guidance from me, your Writing Sherpa. You give yourself accountability. I will give you some writing prompts along the way.
My Monthly Transformative Circle: The Red Thread: Touching Reality in our Everyday Lives, which starts up this September and meets one Thursday evening a month, is based on my upcoming book. We gather once a month to support each other’s spiritual and creative lives.
Also, I am offering my first yoga and writing retreat with Molly Chanson this August. The retreat is held at Holy Wisdom Monastery so you can choose to return home at night or stay the night at HW. (See below)
Finally, come meet me and other writers at a free Writers' Retreat Monday August 19th from 10 it'll 4:00. Email me for details.
Magic happens at these gatherings.
Join us this August! Mind, Body, Word: 3 Days of Yoga and Writing
If you haven't signed up, it's time!! If you already signed up, we are so excited to spend these days with you! We will explore and renew Self on the mat and the page. Yoga and writing combine as lenses to explore the True Self. Attend to deepen or awaken your yoga and writing practices! This is sure to be a magical 3 days and we hope to see you there!
Meet Molly Chanson
Molly will complete her 200-hour yoga teacher training in July at Kripalu Center for Yoga and Health. Molly has practiced yoga for over 25 years, and is writing her first book. Learn more about Molly here.
THE LIGHTEST TOUCH
Good poetry begins with
the lightest touch,
a breeze arriving from nowhere,
a whispered healing arrival,
a word in your ear,
a settling into things,
then, like a hand in the dark,
it arrests the whole body,
steeling you for revelation.
In the silence that follows
a great line,
you can feel Lazarus,
even the laziest, most deathly afraid
part of you,
lift up his hands and walk toward the light. David Whyte,
- from EVERYTHING IS WAITING FOR YOU and RIVER FLOW
Everything is waiting for you, for us. The completed book, the house, the relationship, the revelation, the peace of mind – the idea, is there. Here. For you. Even when the world seems to be revealing the opposite, and our heart may be breaking. Of course what shows up may not be what we expected or wanted.
Work with that. Write from there.
A fundamental truth (for us writers) is always here for each of us at every moment: to find that place where the internal landscape and narrative of our lives meets with the outer world experiences– this is the writer’s frontier. You don't ever leave it.
What works, for me, is to stay in the conversation. When writing on a particular subject and theme – I listen and notice how these come up in my every-day life. This is how my writing practice has become part of my spiritual practice. Everything becomes material for me to work with (on and off the page).
We have to rely on others, to ask for help, to give into the vulnerability of not knowing. We can choose to listen to and engage the uncertainty. We will have to open our eyes even wider to consider what we might do, where we might go. Listen to the internal conversation as much as to the outer experience. Like the advice I've given in sweat lodges -- keep your eyes open; there's much to see in the dark.
Stay in the conversation.
Never leave home without your field notebook.
Work with this.
My view? That the very health and beauty of this world relies on us to do so.
if you move carefully
through the forest, breathing
like the ones
in the old stories, who could cross
a shimmering bed of leaves
without a sound, you come to a place
whose only taskis to trouble you
but frightening requests, conceived out of nowhere
but in this place
beginning to lead everywhere.
Requests to stop what
you are doing right now,
andto stop what you
while you do it, questions
that can make
a life, questions
that have patiently
waited for you, questions
that have no right
to go away..- David Whyte, from EVERYTHING IS WAITING FOR YOU and RIVER FLOW
JOIN ME AND OTHER WRITERS for a a FREE WRITERS’ RETREAT: MONDAY August 19th from 10 am till 4:00. Email me for location (near Barneveld) and for other details. firstname.lastname@example.org
(For those who are wondering if I got my novel done - YUP! Now for some serious revision before I send it out to an agent.)
We are all in need of transformation. We may use other words: to be reborn, to awaken, to obtain enlightenment.... to become one with the Tao or to harmonize one's will with Nature. Or to lose ourselves in the Oneness. To know who we are and to fulfill our purpose.
We seek big experiences.
And so do our readers. Our readers seek transformative experiences like a woman whose hair on fire seeks a pond.
They seek answers to big questions, even when they are not aware of the question.
When our writing is transformational for us as we write, the reader will get a dynamic and life-changing experience too. I'm not talking fireworks. Transformation is a given when we allow ourselves to be vulnerable and courageous. Nature reflects this well in the transformation of an acorn to an oak tree, or a caterpillar to a butterfly. Or how a blade of grass pushes through the hard dark earth. Remarkable really. Everything relies on the transformative nature of reality.
We are here to be transformed and to assist in each other's transformation.
As writers all we really have to do is open ourselves up to what is possible. Bring ourselves to the page (or computer screen) and write what matters to us. Be vulnerable. Don't get caught up in trying to prove anything to ourselves or the reader. Let the emotions, the resistance, the epiphanies, the questions, and ideas spill out of us onto the page like honey from a rock.
Share what you got. First for yourself and then your readers.
I head off to my 5 days of writing retreat, solely dedicated to finishing this draft of my novel. Just giving myself this time is transformative. It's been awhile since I went on a solo writing retreat. As I shared last week, I hope to encounter the villain in my story. And I hope to have the transformative experience of finishing this book. My protagonist starts out not knowing her capacities and who she truly is -- surely this reflects my own metamorphosis and awakenings in life. Who among us knows who we truly are? What we are truly capable of? As I write this book, my life is changed. And as I rework the story of the my characters, my inner and outer world transforms.
My protagonist is a shape shifter.
And so am I.
SAVE THE DATE: Free Writing Retreat on Monday August 19th outside of beautiful Blue Mounds, WI. More details to come.
All Write Wednesdays: World into Word
All Write Wednesdays is a blog about living the writer's life. Everything in our lives is material. Read all of the All Write Wednesdays posts.
Zero Point Blog
The Zero Point blog shares my teachings about living your life from the inside out and becoming the cause rather than the effect of your life. Read all of the Zero Point posts.
Support this blog
A CUPPA JAVA for JULIE Your support helps keep this Sherpa writing and helping others. Please consider a donation.
Julie lives in Mount Horeb WI where she walks her dog through Stewart Park, gardens her corner lot, attends yoga at Bliss Flow Yoga in Madison and waits for spring 11 months of the year. She is author of The Zero Point Agreement & ten other books. She also writes for the local Mount Horeb paper and in her free time listens in on others' conversations at Sjolinds.