Opening the locked windows

Morning pages, fear, and inspiration

Hey y’all,

I hope you’re having a great week—or at least a good one, great can sometimes be a high bar.

Morning pages update

So, I have officially finished a full week of doing morning pages, and I have to say, I am loving the process. I thought it might feel like a waste of time because they are words just for me, but instead, I’ve found myself looking forward to them each morning. In fact, I’ve gotten annoyed when they’ve been interrupted or I’ve had to delay them for whatever reason.

I’m amazed by how, almost every day, I start off with writing something utterly mundane like what the weather is like or what happened the day before, but then by the middle of the first page, I’ve usually drifted into some topic I really need to think deeply about. It’s some kind of mental magic and makes me think of this quote:

“I write entirely to find out what I’m thinking, what I’m looking at, what I see, and what it means. What I want and what I fear.”

— Joan Didion

Yes, Ms. Didion, that.

I mean, it makes sense that as a writer, I would think things through on the page, but I didn’t realize how different an experience it is from just running through the same things in my mind. My mind gets caught in a loop on topics and thoughts. However, on the page, it seems I’m better able to move forward with trains of thought and actually brainstorm theories, solutions, etc. instead of endlessly circling. It also lets me see themes that keep popping up.

So, I know it’s early, but so far, I’m a big fan of this process developed by Julia Cameron. (I talked about her methods in more depth in the last newsletter if you missed it.) There are also other steps in her method—artist’s dates, solo walks, and writing a certain amount in your project each day—but I haven’t incorporated those yet. Maybe next week, I will try the artist’s date.

Now, I haven’t broken through any major writing blocks yet or know what I’ll write next, but on more philosophical/life/work issues, I feel like the pages are bringing me closer to clarity. And I think those things probably need to be worked through before the fiction can bubble to the surface again.

Speaking of which…

Fear and inspiration

I was thinking earlier today that one of the hardest parts of the artistic process is having patience and trusting that ideas will come. (If you subscribe to Becca Syme’s newsletter, today’s Dear Becca letter is what got me to thinking about it.) Some writers have too many ideas and say they’ll never have time to write them all.

That’s great.

That’s not how my writer brain works, lol.

I’ve written 20+ books. I’ve obviously been lucky to have ideas that were good enough to sustain me through writing entire books/series and to garner me book deals and readers for those stories.

And, of course, I get little glimmers of ideas all the time, but a whisper of something can’t hold up an entire 100k-word book unless it’s married to other ideas. (This is why so many newbie writers get a great idea and then peter out after the first few chapters. They forget you also need subplots and other things woven in to provide enough meat for the story bones.)

So, often when I’ve finished writing a book, and especially when I’ve finished a series, there’s this sense of emptiness. Like I’ll never get another idea again. The amount of trust it takes to be patient and believe that more ideas will come is no small order.

I’m in that space now. The trusting. The patience.

Closed windows

However, I’m also wondering if sometimes we think we have those “brain windows” wide open, ready to let the breeze of inspiration in, but really, we’ve only opened them a crack or not at all.

In Big Magic, Elizabeth Gilbert personifies ideas and inspiration—believing ideas are sentient and looking for someone to bring them into being. And if an idea alights upon an artist and that artist doesn’t grab onto the idea and do the work, the idea flits to the next person because its only goal is to be brought into existence.

I think it’s quite a whimsical and romantic concept, but even if you don’t believe in the mystical underpinnings of that, I think it’s an apt metaphor. If a writer isn’t in a good place (mentally, physically, spiritually), they won’t be capable of doing the idea justice. The idea will move on.

But beyond that, I also wonder if sometimes we think we have the windows open, we think we’re ready for the next great idea, but we actually have locked the windows tight because of fear or overwhelm or burnout. Our mental shelves are empty and our windows are shut.

On some level, conscious or subconscious, we don’t believe we’re currently capable of spinning an idea into a story OR we fear the stress cycle we’ll be thrown back into with writing, so we’ve locked the windows and put out the “closed for business” sign on the door. Ideas just cruise on by without stopping.

I have a file folder of randomly jotted-down ideas. I’m sure that there are ideas in there that are totally capable of growing into a book and/or series. However, maybe nothing is singing to me because my writing process has gotten too entangled with stress and dread. It’s like that hot guy you used to date. Man, he was hot, but he could be such a dick. You want the hot but not the drama. :) I want the writing but not the burnout.

So, that’s the puzzle I’m currently working on. How to open those windows to inspiration, to trust that there’s a way to do this without the process being laced with dread. I know writing can be joyful. I’ve been in that headspace. I remember what that felt like. And I think ideas are way more likely to show up for a joyful writer than a tired, burnt-out one.

Morning pages are a start because that has brought me joy this week. We’ll see how the next steps go.

As always, thanks for hanging out with me on this journey!

I’d love to hear your thoughts on any of this. Don’t be afraid to leave a comment! Or you can hit reply on this email (if you’re a subscriber) if it’s too personal.

Enjoy the rest of your week!