Analiese at
The Necessary Wild invited me to participate in this blog tag to discuss my writing process. I've loved reading posts from the many bloggers who have participated recently, but my initial reaction questioned whether I could share my process when writing has been a challenge for me for the better part of a year now—probably more. However, I think it would be interesting for me to document where I'm at as a writer at this point in time, frustrations included, and then revisit this post in the future to see how my process has evolved.
Step 1: Acknowledge the Person and Site Who Involved You in the Challenge
I can't quite remember how I found my way to
Analiese and her former blog, Tulips & Tea. However it happened, I knew right away that Analiese was a kindred spirit, someone with similar interests who celebrated the simple moments and looked at the world through grateful eyes. Since discovering her previous blog, she has grown and forged new paths for herself, from attending the Institute for Integrative Nutrition and changing careers to moving from Washington, D.C., to Boulder, Colorado. She has been a person that I look up to for no other reason than she is true to herself in what seems to be a very grounded, honest way. I've loved seeing Analiese evolve as a blogger and a writer, and her meaningful, reflective words are always a breath of fresh air in my blog feed.
Step 2: Answer 4 Questions About Your Writing Process
1) WHAT ARE YOU WORKING ON?
In the most rudimentary way, I'm working on
just writing. Writing lists. Stream of consciousness writing. Writing a single sentence on a piece of torn envelope in a scribbled rush before the words float out of my reach. Most often, I stare at a blinking cursor until it begins to mock me with its empty stare.
Words have been my communication medium of choice since high school, when I took a "Writing for College" class that helped me to identify as a writer for the first time ever. It was that class that led me to apply to the renowned journalism school at Mizzou, which is a decision I'll never regret, despite my questionable use of my degree.
Since the words have been so much harder to articulate these days, in many ways it feels like I've lost my voice—not just in my writing, but in other areas of my life. That is my main motivation to push through this constant sense of hesitation: I write to know myself. I write to be a more complete version of myself in the world.
It's no easy feat, as someone once pointed out to me when I said I was trained as a journalist. "You're
screwed," she said with a laugh. There's some truth to that, though. I was taught to present the facts (in order of importance), be objective, not get involved with a story. To turn the story on myself feels unnatural and uncomfortable. But I'm trying.
In the broadest sense, there are certain themes that I can't seem to escape lately. Honesty. Nostalgia. Kindness. Grace. Intimacy (of the non-sexual variety). Relationships, especially friendships between women. Loneliness. Nourishment, both the food and non-food varieties. The sense of place. Words left unspoken.
Right now, these themes are exist as marbles that roll around in my thoughts and on my tongue, sometimes making their way into my writing, though I hope to dig deeper into them moving forward. I have wispy thread of an idea for a fiction novel, which I don't have much experience with, so I might attempt various short stories to see if I have something meaty enough to make up a novel.
2) HOW DOES YOUR WORK DIFFER FROM OTHERS' WORK OF THE SAME GENRE?
I'm not at a point where I can identify a particular genre for my writing, though the label of creative nonfiction seems to be the most fitting. I suppose it's different from others' work just because it's my story. That's the great thing about creative nonfiction, along with the flexibility of medium it allows. From blog posts to essays to photo books of my travels to the scripts I write for videos, it is all different forms of creative nonfiction.
3) WHY DO YOU WRITE WHAT YOU DO?
Last year, I attended a creative retreat on the Oregon coast. A writer and storyteller I greatly admired was one of the teachers, and I was a puppy dog at her feet, observing her with wide, eager eyes—they way she spoke, how she engaged with others, her commitment to self-care, even if it meant stepping back from the group.
During this retreat, I happened to be a total mess; a floodgate of feelings had come to the surface surrounding the death of my grandfather on my 30th birthday and the ties that had been severed between my father and I earlier that year. Every writing prompt was a wave of emotion, sometimes so much so that I couldn't write. The only day I didn't shed any tears was when we had an art lesson and free time to paint and draw, where I let my mind wander and drew flowers and feathers and evergreen trees.
The next day, the teacher I admired pulled me to the side and gently suggested, "Maybe your healing will happen through art and not writing."
I understand where she was coming from, but hearing this from someone I admired as a writer was a bit of a punch in the gut. Along with the doubts and blocks that were already present, I let her words worm their way into my brain, and these shadow voices would whisper whenever I tried to put my pen to paper. The tears prickling behind my eyes shamed me, and I wondered why it was impossible for me to create the verbal equivalent of pastel flowers and feathers, something sparklier and happier than my apparent emo-teenager persona.
It took some time, but I'm remembering that we can reject the words of the people we look up to if they don't fit in with our vision or goals for ourselves. Our teachers are flawed people just like us, infused with their own biases and perspectives, and no matter how well you know each other, they are operating from a limited understanding of your unique story.
Here's the truth: I am am an emotional person. It takes a lot less than death and estrangement to make me cry. When I consider most of my favorite works of art, they do not exist simply to entertain me—that's never been a big enough appeal—but they attempt to make some sense out of this beautiful mess of human existence. Amelie. Cheryl Strayed. Perks of Being a Wallflower. Life is Beautiful. Milk. Khaled Hosseini. The first 10 minutes of Up. Blue Valentine.
This dance to Coldplay's Fix You.
Yes, sometimes writing feels like pressing on a wound. But to me, that's better than covering it up with a Hello Kitty bandaid and pretending it doesn't exist. If I spend my entire writing life aiming through the crosshair of truth and emotion, I think I will be satiated if I manage to hit the target a handful of times.
"Write clear and hard about what hurts." ~ Earnest Hemingway
“Let yourself be gutted. Let it open you. Start here.”
~ Cheryl Strayed
4) HOW DOES YOUR WRITING PROCESS WORK?
Today was a good day. Still suffering a bit from jet lag, I woke up well before sunrise and sat with my laptop at my desk facing out into the neighbor's dark yard. I find that I work best when my surroundings are quiet and still, and you can't beat 5:30 on a Saturday morning for that. A half hour in, I got up and made myself a cup of coffee, and mostly enjoyed it for the warmth on my hands on this crisp morning.
I thought about one of my mantras, "Start every day as a creator, not a consumer." It's such a simple thought,
and on the days I heed to its wisdom, I'm far more centered, focused, and (obviously) productive than when I get swept into email, social media, blogs and the news. It's hard for me to stick to a structure, and my attempts at morning pages or journaling at the start of my day do not usually occur more than three consecutive times before I fall into old habits.
Practice and I could stand to become better acquaintances. It's rare that I go a day without writing
something, but it's usually just a fragment of a blog post, a list in my Moleskine, or an outline for a video. While I do crave the ritual of a writing practice, my romanticized version of it hardly compares to reality. Writing can be a slog. It can be mundane and boring.
One thing I've come to learn about my process is that it takes a very long time for me. I have no one to compare myself to, no one I know well enough for them to give me a peek into their process, but I get the feeling that I am a slow writer. Part of this is the hesitation and self-consciousness that I mentioned above, which would likely dissolve—or at least recede—with practice, but to me writing is an intentional, mindful act rather than a compulsion or manic desire. While I feel the need to write to be fully myself, many times I have to push myself to get started.
Since I know this about myself, I've learned to set aside the common writerly advice to start projects without an outline to allow for a serendipitous evolution of the story. For me that would be a recipe for disaster or abandonment. An outline can be invaluable; I'd rather feel like I was putting together a puzzle than trying to find my way through a maze in the dark.
Step 3: Pass It On
I'd like to nominate
Sarah Bagley to do this post. She was my Stratejoy sister from a few years ago, and I'd love to hear about her writing process as a busy mom with a hundred different projects on her plate :)
Thanks again to
Analiese for inviting me to share my answers to this post! I will be curious to revisit these answers in the future and see how my process has (hopefully) transformed.
{Image via Death to the Stock Photo}
