Tag Archives: creative-writing

by | January 26, 2025 · 11:20 am

A meditation in three words

I have some big creative plans for 2025.

I’m working on a short story collection, with a goal of drafting one story every month. The Restless Writers are working on a collaborative project – which Beckie mentioned a few months ago – that will have a lot of moving parts and ambitious deadlines. I have a new non-fiction project waiting in the wings, as well as some non-writing related plans too.

I’m excited to work towards my goals, and they’re important to me. But like a lot of the world, I feel like I’m teetering on the edge of chaos. How can I intentionally create space for pursuing my writing when it feels like I’m losing control? How can I keep moving forward when the work feels like I’m swimming through molasses? How can I support my creative and mental health in an already full and hectic life?

What helps me is a three-word mantra: Discipline. Patience. Joy.

Here’s what these words mean to me.

Discipline

I’ve come to accept that, for me, a daily writing habit isn’t realistic. I have a full-time job and do freelance work on the side, so it’s not feasible to find an hour to write every single day. What I can do is plan writing blocks in my weekly schedule when it makes sense for me. Sunday mornings, for example, work very well. Mini-DIY writing retreats are another tool I use. The discipline part kicks in when I commit to those writing blocks or retreats and use my writing time effectively.

(Not a write-every-day person? Feel better about it with the idea of “binge writing,” which I learned from Allison K Williams in this blog post.)

Showing up for other people is another part of my creative discipline. The monthly(ish) Restless Writers meetings are a big part of that. I also offer support to a small circle of people who are working towards creative goals and need the help of an accountability partner. When I show up to co-work with them, I’m also showing up for myself.

Most days, I struggle with focus. And there’s nothing like the fidgets to disrupt one’s creative efforts. So, this year, I’m banning the disruptors – those things that pull me out of creative flow. I’ve deleted TikTok (which I should have done eons ago, honestly). I’ve muted social media notifications. I’ve silenced the siren call of books to be read and jigsaw puzzles to be completed by moving them to a different room. Out of sight, out of temptation, right?

I’ve also taken steps to make it as easy as possible to transition into writing mode. Check out my previous posts about creative readiness (part 1 and part 2) if you want to hear how I’m setting myself up for creative success.

Patience

Where the word discipline feels somewhat sterile and harsh, patience feels like grace.

Creative work takes time, especially if you’re pursuing bigger goals, like a novel. With generative AI all around us, promising instant creative gratification, it can be hard to pull on the reins and settle into a rhythm of doing the time-consuming work. I have to remind myself that my writing goals won’t be achieved in one day – or heck, even in one week – and that’s okay. My slow and bumbling human brain is creating worlds, inventing people, and imagining love and disaster. Isn’t that beautiful?

Patience is also about knowing that my creative work will be there even if I have to step away from it. Life happens, and you might experience things that throw you off your creative game. I’ve had some setbacks already this year. Work got busy early. I had a monster freelance project that never seemed to end. The US election results gave me creeping, swirling, can’t-sleep-at-night anxiety. And last week, I said goodbye to my darling tortoiseshell cat, Mary Piper, who had been my companion for the last 14 years. Today was the first day I’ve felt like getting back to my writing. And you know what? The creative spark and the drive were still there. The story still called to me. So, I poured a coffee, put on some focus music, and got back to it.

This is Mary Piper, and one of her gazillion toys.

Joy

The third facet of my mantra is a gift to my creative self, a way of refilling my well and helping me feel connected to people and beauty around me. Frankly, joy has been hard to come by recently. There’s a lot going on – in my life, in the world – that makes joy seem elusive, like a shy fox in winter, or a sunrise hiding behind the morning fog. It can also be hard to recognize joy when you crash into it.

For me, joy feels like the hum of creative connection, the quiet of being immersed in nature, the exhilaration of moving my body, and the pleasure of interacting with art.

This year, I’m making the experience of joy a proactive exercise.

I’m seeking out and attending events, like an author reading at the library or an Alice in Wonderful exhibit at the Royal Botanical Gardens. I’m waking up early and walking to the frozen and glorious lake. Those books and puzzles I relegated to another room for the sake of discipline? I’m savouring them when I’ve finished my writing for the day. These moments are me welcoming and pursuing joy in my everyday life.

Discipline. Patience. Joy.

I breathe deeply and hold these words in my consciousness as I get ready in the morning. I contemplate them, written on the whiteboard in my study, throughout the day. I whisper them to myself when I get frustrated or depleted or sad. I re-visit them at night, to remind myself that I’m nurturing my creative self in ways that work best for me.

Do you have a mantra or a special word for 2025? I’d love to hear what it is and what it means to you.

Maria

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by | November 25, 2024 · 10:25 pm

Are you a starter or a finisher?

The Restless Writers have just returned from our annual writing retreat. It was filled with stories of true confession, a lightning round of Trivial Pursuit (Canadian edition), a birthday party with Sparkling Stars, beaucoup prompts, a new word (deliciate: to indulge and make yourself happy), and…something very special.

We’ve been working on a collaborative project for a couple years now that we’ve finally committed to finishing—and launching in the Spring of 2025. You heard it here! It’s a project we’ve been weaving together that commemorates our sixteen year friendship. Our hope for the project is it will allow us to support and celebrate writers on a similar journey to ours. Writers helping writers.

Like any creative project, it’s been a challenge to keep it moving forward. Each one of us brings a different productivity persona to the table. Meaning, a couple of us live for the creative beginnings of a new project and a couple of us are eager to execute! Lucky for us, we’re the perfect combination of ideas, plans, skills, and whimsy. We can do this, and we will.

As writers, we have always approached our individual creative journeys differently. We daydream. We abandon. And when it feels right, we give life to those ideas that tug on our shirt sleeves and keep us up at night. We live for these moments! Some projects completed, some published, some still living in notebooks and on USB keys, enduring edit after edit. And that’s okay. It allows us the freedom and flexibility as writers to use the right approach for the job, and at the time when it suits us.

We’re starters. We’re finishers. And we need each other. For encouragement, for accountability, and for butter tart runs to the farm. These are just a few of the things that make us a badass writing team. More to come on our pet project.

Do you consider yourself a starter or a finisher or somewhere in the middle? Tell us more in the comments.

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by | May 3, 2024 · 7:50 am

The possibility of poetry

Fellow Restless Writer Andrea and I had signed up to attend a virtual workshop hosted by our local library called “Prompts to Find Your Inner Poet.” I almost didn’t join in, for two reasons: one, I am still working to get over my prejudice against poetry; and two, the workshop was being led by Lynda Monk, a coach, speaker, facilitator, and author who is passionate about journalling – and I hate journalling. (Raise your hand if you’ve ever felt traumatized by Julia Cameron and her morning pages.)

Fortunately, I gave myself a rousing pep talk, convinced myself that it was only for an hour, grabbed a bottle of wine, and headed over to Andrea’s house, so we could attend online together.

The workshop, held last week, was well attended – about 35 people – and Lynda gave a gracious, welcoming, and warm introduction to the workshop. She told us there would be writing exercises (which I was eager to dig into) and that “we are all poets in some way.”

If I had expected the event to be cringey, it wasn’t. Lynda opened by asking us to reflect on “what is poetry?” She described a type of literary expression that is resonant, captures beauty and emotion, helps us feel “aliveness” and connection, and speaks to the “unspoken”: the “spaces in between and around experiences, thoughts and feelings.” She outlined a plain language understanding of poetry that was immediately accessible.

Lynda shared one of her favourite poems – “Wild Geese” by Mary Oliver – and asked us to reflect on what stood out for us in the poem. A word, a phrase, a feeling? She shared that the poem evoked a sense of quiet, and that everyone needs to be able to access that kind of quiet in order to write.

She returned to this concept later in the session when she talked about the white space on one of the presentation slides. “Our creative selves need white space, where we can recognize what we have within our hearts to say.”

Throughout the session, Andrea and I would make little affirmative noises in response to some piece of insight that Lynda shared about poetic language. I found Lynda’s approach to talking about poetry, and encouraging each of us to explore new poetic prompts, to be the opposite of cringey. She was engaging, positive, non-critical, practical, and inclusive.

One takeaway for me was what Lynda had to say about the transformative effects of poetry. To paraphrase, poetic writing can transform what we’re feeling into something else (e.g. writing about a negative experience can turn it into a positive one), and poetic writing can transform ourselves, by altering our perceptions about our own experiences and emotions.

The writing exercises were intriguing and fun – Andrea and I agreed we should share the prompts at a future Restless Writers’ meeting.

  • Take the first line of your favourite poem, and use it as a prompt for your own poem. Lynda used Emily Dickinson’s “I dwell in Possibility” as the line prompt.
  • Use the structure of an existing poem as a template for your poem. “Otherwise” by Jane Kenyon was the perfect prompt to have us imagining our own alternate lives.
  • Cut words out of a magazine or newspaper, and paste them into poems in different shapes. (Ahem, an idea for the next Restless Writers’ holiday craft night?)
  • Create a “book spine poem.” This was another exercise Lynda encouraged us to try on our own time – you take books from your shelves, and make a poem out of their titles. Mine is below.

Principles still missing.
How did that happen?
The novel cure underland, surrounded by idiots, sediment in streams.
Do not disturb the big thing.

I’m thankful I talked myself into joining the workshop, and I’m thankful for Lynda’s generous and gentle approach. It opened up something in my imagination and in my writing that I might have been repressing. I’m looking forward to exploring more poetic writing this spring.

Maybe I’ll even give journalling another go. But no promises.

Which of the poetic prompts above will you try?

Maria

PS: Learn more about Lynda here.

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