Creative Attunement June 30-July 14, 2014: The Invisible Audience

Wow, guys! It’s been months since I’ve made a post here. And yes I’m kind of irritated and ashamed at myself for that. Especially since I had intended to be more regular about these Attunement’s than that.

My last entry was in March! That is nearly 4 months ago!

Well, I’m going to be honest with you about what kept me away from this blog for four months. I’ve kept myself away from this blog. That is to say I haven’t had as much courage and faith in myself over the last four months. And I have realized I have gotten wrapped up too much and what I was afraid of the people were “thinking” about me.

Hence the reference to the Invisible Audience! In other words, a lot of us will stop doing what we are doing, stop offering and sharing our wisdom, or simply being ourselves because we feel that people – or that the people gathered “out there” – society are having something to say about what we create. That in some ways we feel or fear possible judgment on what we have been creating, or are even considering creating.

In fact, I, and probably a lot of you reading this, have often scared ourselves/myself with the very IDEA of what someone might THINK or SAY about our creation, our creative process or what’s important to us in what we create. And indeed in most other areas of our life.

But that’s the problem with the Invisible Audience. It’s there, and it isn’t. Simultaneously we have the energy of the “audience” those individuals out in the world who will be or are affected by what we have spent our hours working on, and yet, we also simultaneously really have no one that is “physically” there to really pass these sorts of judgments or other comments that we may be psyching ourselves up for.

So in effect we scare ourselves and not showing up, and all because of something that isn’t really there in the way we think it is.

I have realized that some of my trouble with the Invisible Audience is actually a reflection of what is going on within me as a writer, creative and visionary individual. That there is actually no judgment coming from the outside, and it is all coming from the inside, as if to “beat everyone else to it” so that if someone WERE to say something to me, that it wouldn’t matter because I would have already been myself up over it.

So that’s what the difficulty is in all of this. Is that in some sense there are other people out there besides us, who are not us, and who may not even really be paying attention to us as we are creating, and yet they are us. They are a reflection. So it’s important to pay attention when this feeling occurs, as it will point us to when we are being too critical with ourselves

So in the spirit of injecting some comedy into a situation that I’ve been dealing with with the myself for a couple of months, I have just decided that if I’m going to have an Invisible Audience, I might as well do something to entertain them! 😉

But I’ve also realize there is another way we can look at this. We can use the idea of the Invisible Audience as a way to encourage us to write, rather than deter us. And it’s a simple switch in perspective really. Here’s all you have to do to make. Invisible Audience works to uplift you, rather than bring you down:

Imagine that the Invisible Audience is made up of the souls (people, energy, organizations etc.) that are waiting to experience you as an author. That are waiting to be positively affected as a result of your art, rather than the other way around.

Imagine that your Invisible Audience is made up of the people who made an agreement with you on a soul level to be connected to you through your art. To support you and cheer you on, as much as you for them.

Imagine that you are Invisible Audience is made up of those people who need your story! Who need its particular message. After all creativity is a form of medicine for yourself as well as for others, so whenever you feel like you’re being “watched” or that you have this audience around you, instead of feeling like they might be waiting bust your knee caps with a lead pipe, imagine that they are waiting to lift you up instead.

Over the next two weeks, take some time to ask yourself,

Who is in my Invisible Audience? What kind of people, energies organizations are there?

Why do they need to hear from me? What do they need to hear from me?

What is so important to them and me about what I’m writing? How is this going to positively affect the people in my Invisible Audience and beyond?

How might the “people” in my Invisible Audience like to support me in continuing to move forward with my creative, inspired writing?

If you ask these questions, you will get answers. What you do with those answers then is up to you. If you have the choice between making nothing out of them, and making magic, wouldn’t you choose magic?

Creative Attunement March 10-17 2014: And Then There Were Two

For this week, my thoughts have been on the way I approach creativity as a writer. The way I “roll” as a writer. What I mean by that is I’ve been examining my thoughts on what kind of writer I am.

When I began my writing career, and I had the dream of being an author fresh on my eyelids, I was what you would call a one-Muse woman. I was one of those individuals who would write on one book at a time. Write on one story, and in that way woo one Muse, and be wooed in return by that one Muse.

I think this is in part because of my loyalty. The loyalty I have as part of my personality, and the level of commitment that I like to feel that I have toward a work that is speaking to me. I suppose I didn’t like the idea of “swapping” on my Muses – creating one out for the other. I suppose in the past I felt that this might weaken my “resolve” to finish the work. I felt that it would cause my “eyes to wander” so to speak, and in that lose my potency.

That I would somehow become distracted, and that distraction would be horrible for my creative process, and completely ruined my ability to finish the work once I started.

And I thought that way for a long time. It wasn’t until recently (and I mean recently by earlier this year) that I decided – realized the magic of Two.

That’s right, after almost 15 years of being a one-Muse writer, I have turned into a multi-Muse writer. And I suppose this too, also mirrors the widening and defining that my heart and my concept of love has gone through as well. But that is a topic for another blog post.

So what is the magic? The magic is that everything I thought as a “negative” to having more than one thing I was writing – more than one Muse I was courting – turned out to be wrong. Very wrong. Instead of a second Muse taking away from the first Muse, and making me lose my commitment, a surprising thing happens. My commitment to each Muse actually grow stronger because of the presence of the other.

Having a second Muse allows me to shift my focus ever so slightly. It allows me to leave the “bedroom” the creative space of one Muse and gone to the other. This is important because this shift – this change of scenery – allows me to see each piece with new eyes. To interact with each of my beautiful Muses with refreshed vigor. With refreshed commitment and vision, because I have been able to feast my eyes and heart on something else.

But one of the greatest gifts that I have found by working with two Muses instead of one is the fact that it keeps my creative muscle sharp. It keeps the edge of my pen sharp so to speak, because I’m not getting tired – I’m not getting lazy by writing in one voice on one topic for too long.

Most importantly however, is the fact that by having two Muses I actually protect myself against falling into a creative dead zone, more popularly known as “writer’s block.” I don’t believe that this exists in the way that most people do, but I have found that by having more than one spirit to commune with, I am less likely to fall into a place of discontent, disillusionment or confusion. Into a place where I can get my bearings or the will to write.

So if I ever have a moment where creative energy stops flowing from one Muse, all I have to do is calmly go and visit the other. And so from this year, and my writing process, this is helped me get more consistent writing for myself, as well as a decrease in my fear and discomfort of a potential slow spot in my work.

This is completely different than the way I used to feel when I was writing with only one Muse. I used to dread the moment where the work would become slow, or I would have to work a little harder to get the words on paper. And that’s because I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I didn’t have any other inspiration to turn to, and so this added a level of desperation to my work. A level of feeling like “Well, this can’t be happening right now. I can’t be losing my creative energy (my sexual desire) for the work, it’s characters and its meaning. If I do, everything stops.”

I don’t have this now, as not all of my eggs are in one basket. So I don’t have the same need for the one Muse to be consistent or to be invulnerable. I can allow that Muse to be however she is, knowing that the fire will come back. And it does come back. For each Muse. And they are kind of like polyamorous partners in that way.

In that when you leave one, you have not forsaken that one. You are just enjoying a different experience for a while. But that when you come back you’ll have all the energy and the desire you need to continue. Muses work the same way, and this year has been proof of that.

It helps too, that my beautiful Muses are completely different yet complementary goddesses. One is more masculine and the other is more feminine, and it is so so beautiful to get to see and enjoy the spectrum of this female presence.

So if you feel like your writing life is becoming stale, you may want to consider adding more Muses to your home. More stories to your queue. Not only will this stretch you creatively, but it will give you a chance to explore some new and different lands, while you are still staking a claim on your first expedition.

Until next time!

Creative Attunement March 4-10 2014: Character Growth Happens Because of “Out of character” moments

In writing circles, instructors, teachers and peers alike will warn you to not “get out of character.” In the traditional way of looking at writing, this is a completely valid warning. A completely valid concern, since you want your characters to be believable. You don’t want them to suddenly do or say something that they have not set a precedent for, or at least proven that they have the capacity to act a certain way in response to a situation.

And yes, I want you to write your characters so that they make sense. So that they hold themselves in a way that is believable, satisfying, but not without a bit of intrigue. And this is where those “out of character” moments come in.

Most of you probably know what being out of character is. You’ve probably heard it said about you, or about someone you know. And usually you or that someone else has acted in a way that goes outside of their normal personality, bearing or flow. For example, when someone who is usually so responsible acts irresponsibly, or unpredictably.

A famous example is Archangel Lucifer. If you know anything about his story, you know that he decided he was going to stop being “fluffy, loving, and compassionate.” He decided to have some pride, care for self, and the desire to prove that humans weren’t the perfect creation. Talk about that for an out of character moment!

Taking this example, isn’t it awesome how much character growth he had? He totally changed the dynamic of what an Archangel could feel, think and do! I know some of you are probably going to say “Yeah, well Lucifer was flawed from the beginning. He was made to have some weakness.” I will agree with you on that, but it was done perfectly.

Let’s take a look at this a little more. So Lucifer proved that an Archangel could become something more. He proved that he was prone to the weaknesses that most “humans” are prone to; at the same time, however, as with all character growth and development – as well as spiritual growth and development – Lucifer was presented with a situation that no one in his illustrious position had really been confronted with before.

He was confronted with humans. He was confronted with the very idea that they too, like him had been made in the likeness and image of the divine. He was not able to accept this. And this is part of what led to his decision to go to war.

Of course, we expected him to be able to see their greatness, since he was sitting supposedly on a high enough vantage point to do so, and that would’ve been true. Except for his flaw, and THAT was his inability to see perfect imperfection. And because this was his flaw, he became the poster child for imperfect perfection.

So one might say – if they were to write Lucifer’s story – and they were content to have them act like an Archangel should, they would miss out. If they insisted that he behaved exactly as the “light bearer” was supposed to behave, then he wouldn’t have any character growth. He wouldn’t have been able to penetrate the steps or complexity of character. So if he hadn’t had this uncharacteristically selfish moment for an Archangel, then what a boring character he would be!

The same rules apply to your characters. You want them to act predictably, except around their flaws. Faults and flaws are what give us as people instability. They are what give us a “wildcard” element, even if our personalities are consistent. It is the same with any characters that you channel, or help to create and flesh out. They will be imperfect, and this is going to give you perfect soil for character growth. This is going to set you up for many marvelous “out of character” moments.

So I challenge you to challenge your characters this week. Make them uncomfortable, damn it! Put them with people they want absolutely nothing to do with! Put them in situations you know they won’t handle well, and you know they would want to keep at a distance! Make them face themselves! Push the up against the wall!

By doing so, you’re going to get a reaction out of them, and probably one that is unexpected. You’re going to see a side of them you haven’t seen before, and you’re going to see them be resourceful, exactly as you would in a similar scenario. This resourcefulness is what’s going to deepen your character.

The bottom line is this. Being out of character is not a bad thing, if done in a conscious way. Your characters should have the opportunity to step outside of their normal way of being/operating, but not because you wanted to rush them through something, or because you don’t want to put in the effort to make them evolve slowly.

Enjoy roughing your characters up! I know I will!

Creative Attunement February 27-March 3, 2014: Should You Write Your Dreams?

For this week’s Creative Attunement, I felt guided to talk about the subject of dreams. Not just what they mean, or what they can mean about your current creative state, but whether one should use material from their dreams as fuel for ideas. As legitimate sparks of inspiration.

As with the nature of dreams themselves, there seemed to be too distinctive camps. The first believes that dreams are nothing more than a figment of our imagination – of our brain “dumping” unused or access content from our daily lives. Or even content we are trying to “make sense of” long after our waking hours have come to an end.

The other camp, the one I am more inclined to ascribe too, believes that dreams are not just figment of our mental realm. That they in fact represent limited communication with the spirit realm, or at least other realms where we can access other states of consciousness. Other kinds of knowledge, whether in the form of warnings, happy predictions of the future, or knowings of our ancestors, or those beings who watch over us.

In the same way, dreams and writing have been polarized. Some writers and schools of thought encourage, or at least see no problem with using dream space as a unique place to come by strange, magical, if not surreal imagery or ideas. Ideas that are not conformed by the “logical” order that our waking life normally places on our experiences and our ability to put them together.

Some writers and schools of thought on the subject discourage writing with one’s dreams. They say this, claiming that the information received in dreams is often nonsensical, lacking, and impulsive – therefore missing a kind of integrity – a kind of mental stability, which lends itself to good fiction writing. These schools of thought don’t like the entertain the idea of using partial inspirations, as they believe (or fear) that the resulting creation will be less than perfect. Will be a hodgepodge of themes, characters, moods or motivations – with nothing that ever has any true substance.

They believe that the Muse that arises from dreams to find herself on the page is an ephemeral, and is more like the siren that calls you to the cliffs – of the rocks of your creative endeavor – rather than taking you on a magic carpet ride.

I am not sure what really to believe. On one hand, I believe that a certain amount of caution is required when dipping into the dream space to write. As, when we do, we need to have a certain “levelheadedness” even as we observe the kind of Alice in Wonderland atmosphere that may pervade such excursions. But at the same time, I believe we must be somewhat open-minded about what the dream gives us to work with.

I say this because I had an interesting experience earlier last week. One that actually prompted my discussion of this topic. I had a very revealing dream about a certain living dead creature – one I normally find myself running from, no matter if I see them in the dream or in a movie somewhere. But the dream I had about them was very intriguing. Shed some new light on these creatures and what they could be. What their potential could be outside of what Hollywood has painted them, and what many people expect that they are capable of.

After the dream, and even now almost a week after having it, I feel somewhat compelled to write on the alternate reality of these undeads. It was so real. So well put together, and yet I find a small part of myself doubting. Desiring to dismiss this information, as it came from a “dream” and was not being guided by my conscious mind. But then again I am not one to put premiums on being guided solely by the conscious mind. My unconscious mind is just as useful, as it deals more in symbolism. But even so watching myself has been interesting. Watching the resistance I have toward using my dream space to write.

But since then I have made a decision. I have decided that I will lower my inhibitions, and I will listen to the Muse in my dreams. I will let her inspire me. I will allow her to teach and guide me, and show me a new way to write.

What about you?

Have you ever written on the whims of a dream? On the feathers found in your pillow? If you have, what has been the result?

Creative Attunement February 19-26 2014: Write Like A Hermaphrodite

Well, howdy everybody! I can’t believe it, but this is only my second blog post for the new year! Not necessarily what I had planned for myself, but I’ve had some other things that have needed wordsmithing outside of this blog, so there it is. There’s my pitiful excuse for not being more regular.

But let me be a little more honest with you. I also haven’t posted in a while, because for a good month I wasn’t sure what I wanted to write about next. Nothing was coming to me exactly, but something did finally come to mind, and I felt like getting back on the figurative horse. After all, this year is considered the year of the Horse by the Chinese calendar, so we’re all good there.

First of all, I am very aware that my title for today’s blog “Write Like A Hermaphrodite” may ruffle some of your feathers. May make some of you uncomfortable, or comfortably irate.

Either way, I want to assure you that I mean no disrespect to individuals who face the challenges of living in a body with both male and female reproductive organs. They have my deepest respects, and those beautiful intersex people are perfect to help me illustrate my creative point for this week. And that is: in order to be a balanced, stable potent (prolific) writer – one who can seed Ideas, incubate them, and then give birth to them – you need to have both male and female sexual energies, and in near-perfect balance.

I know I’ve said it before in other Attunements, but I’m going to say it again anyway. Writing is a sexual activity. Not just writing, but indeed any creative act is also a sexual act. And this is because the creative act does the same thing as the intimate physical action – it disperses creative force, and from that life – or at least the potential for life is activated.

In order for a pregnancy to “take” the masculine sexual energy must persist in planting some of the ingredients, while the feminine sexual energy must persist in receiving/making womb space for the life that will emerge, while also adding material into the makeup of that life. That being.

Writers become pregnant with ideas, whether or not they are male or female writers. But in order to effectively see an idea to term – to completion – the writer must understand, and embody and then create a way of behaving with their Muses so that they may take physical form. The inability to do this in one way or another, is a sure sign that the writer has “writer’s block” but I don’t believe writer’s block exists. But the inability to create or the unwillingness to create, signals the same issue. An issue of “infertility” – one that has its roots in masculine and feminine imbalances.

I’ve seen it happen both ways, and interestingly members of the opposite sex (or the opposite energy) will have issues with the energy that they do not often embody. I have seen some of my male clients stall out on their ideas. And not because they aren’t any good, but because the idea has come to them in an explosion of inspiration, and they put the first few moments on the page, but lack the concept of nurturing. They proceed to rush the idea – rush the book – thinking that after the first month of writing, as long as they have a somewhat completed book, the process is over.

But just as in sexual intercourse, the speed at which the idea (the sperm) enters the womb (creative space) does not mean that the job is done. It means that the real work has just begun. And since the writer does not have two separate bodies, if he or she does not understand that it will take time, patience, slow, methodical and wizened words to flesh the book (baby) out, the idea will stop at its inception. It’s conception, it’s first moments, never able to escape the first dribblings of ink.

And before you start thinking that I’m going to say that this is a chiefly “male” problem – meaning only men have this issue, absolutely not. This can happen to men or women. I’ve seen it. In women, it usually happens to those who have more of a masculine – a more intense, results-oriented approach. And by no means am I trying to make broad statements. I’m simply trying to describe something about the different sexual energies we bring to any creative act, whether we are creating a child, or a literary work. The principles are the same.

The opposite is true. I have encountered clients who have too much feminine energy. Too much nurturing, and to the point of getting no movement. That the book is getting worked on, but just barely. The work becomes stagnant in its creative space, as there is perhaps too much time and too much thinking and too much babying going on with the work. In these cases, the writers (men and women) have an idea, but have grown unwilling to let it spark – let it be pushy, unpredictable and perhaps even a little territorial. They hold back the boldness, the raw energy and power in their ideas, and therefore do not allow it to thrust forward in new and different ways.

In this case the masculine energy has been severely diminished. And as such we see these writers dragging their feet – resisting either a boldness in their writing, or in keeping their writing commitments. Where the writer with too much masculine energy may be unwilling to slow down and proceed with gentleness, the other shies away from holding their pen erect. From standing tall with their ideas, and asking the world to take notice of them.

So don’t just write with female energy or masculine energy. Write with both. Write like a hermaphrodite – a creative being who is capable of sparking and nurturing a creation until it is born. For they are far from being infertile or incapable. In reality, they represent unbridled potential, and a certain level of creative virility.

One that if you ever hope to get it up, and get your book on the shelf, you’d better start learning and allowing yourself to harness.

Creative Attunement January 9-16, 2014: It Takes Two…

First of all, happy 2014! I don’t know about you all, but for me 2013 was a doozy. I learned a lot, grew a lot, and have a lot to show for those 365 days. And I hope I have a lot more to show for 356 days left of this year!

Second of all, I would like to begin tonight post being completely honest. It was a pain to get myself to sit down and write. Mostly because this is what happens when I go too long without writing in a certain way. For instance updating this blog. But it was also hard to sit down, because I felt for the longest time that I didn’t have enough to say.

I feared that what I had to say would be boring. But I knew that writing here was something I needed to do. To continue my healing process as a recovering creative, and also to continue to step forward and bigger and better ways.

So here we go… This week I’d like to talk about the idea of Show Don’t Tell, in creative writing circles, and the idea of Show and Tell as a way of approaching this particular issue. That’s why this week’s piece is titled “It Takes Two.”

If you’ve been following my blog for a while, you know that I prefer a mixed approach – an equal dosage of creativity and practicality. You know that I hate the definite lines that can and are often drawn in creative concepts, classes, or approaches. I believe that they are all valid, but that no matter what you do, there must be soul present.

When I was learning how to write well – how to write in a way that people would want to read and take seriously – I was often told “you’re telling too much; don’t tell us, show us.” And, for a while, like many new writers, this was a difficult concept to understand. Because when you’re writing you are telling a story. There’s no way around it. You are going to be telling something somewhere, but showing in writing is also telling.

So what do we mean when we say that someone is “telling” too much? Well, in general we are talking about a scenario in which someone is recounting events and emotions, rather than experiencing them. Now, as many of you have probably experienced, this is like splitting hairs. There is a fine line between recounting events and experiencing them. Because when you recount them, you are in effect experiencing them. But to a lesser degree.

I will just use an example here to illustrate showing verses telling, since it will be more useful, and much easier than trying to explain it.

Telling a story:

“Kel felt anxious. Today was the day. He would be setting out to learn magic to learn magic with his sister, and you wouldn’t see this place for another year. Maybe two. And it saddened him. Though his father and he had done nothing but fight for the last six months, he would miss it all the same. He would miss being here, next the beach. Thinking about everything that he would miss out on – the Winter Festival, homemade cider, and staying up late without any homework to do – Kel felt even worse. Of course he was excited to be going away, but at this moment that didn’t seem to outweigh the weight was on his heart.”

Now, don’t get me wrong – there’s really nothing wrong with what I have written here. It’s fairly well written, and for the most part it evokes some sense of emotion. Some sense of experiencing something, but it’s quite. It’s muted, and it doesn’t really evoke a strong sense of kinship. Of empathy. Just sympathy, and this is what makes that paragraph telling too much, instead of showing. Because we’re using words like “anxious” and “sad” as a shortcut for showing these emotions. Giving them signs and signals in the human body – which is what readers will identify with. We are narrating too much here, and not experiencing enough.

Showing a Story:

“Kel was up in his room. He should’ve been comfortable sitting there, but he wasn’t. He couldn’t sit still. On the edge of his hands, he needed to feel something. His fingers needed to grab something. Needed to hold onto something, and no wonder. In less than 12 hours, he would be gone from this place. He sat back on his bed, feeling a sour smile form on his lips. It was almost a sour and traitorous as the sweat growing on his hands. For the last six months he had done nothing but fight with his father, saying he couldn’t wait to leave. But now that it was here? He wasn’t so sure. He traced his finger across an old crack in the wall. Sarah and him had been roughhousing one night, and the house, not them took the beating. The crack left the wall, and found its way into his heart. His new place wouldn’t have memories like these. It wouldn’t have walls with cracks. It would have his sister, yes, but that would be all that would remain the same. The rest – Kel’s chest began to ache – the rest would be changing, and faster than anything had ever changed. The ache in his chest found its way up to his throat, and Kel hated to admit it, but his eyes hurt under fresh tears. At first he tried to write off the blurring in his vision as tiredness, but when that tiredness fell down his cheek, there was no way to deny it. He would miss this place, and he would miss what he was missing for the next year or two of his life.”

Okay, so the first thing I know you’re going to notice is that this paragraph is longer. That is less precise, and as a result doesn’t feel as succinct. But this example was not really about to sink this, but about what showing looks like. Notice that instead of saying “he was sad” or he was “nervous” I showed you that by his actions. By what was going on in his body. I showed you his nerves by his restlessness; by the sweat on his hands, and by needing to hold onto something. I showed you his sadness, by letting you feel his heart ache. By letting you feel his tenderness, and by him running his finger over a crack. And instead of saying “he was crying” I say that his eyes are stinging under what? Tears! I let you identify with this experience, in a way that you have probably felt it, rather than just telling you in a “reporter” sort of way what happened.

So telling, as a general rule, is a mode where you are simply narrating what is going on in your story, but you aren’t actually allowing people to identify with it closely. You are actually allowing your readers to become part of the character and to use their feeling bodies to feel for the character – but are simply allowing the readers to watch them. To observe them, not really step into their shoes.

Showing, on the other hand, is the active process of allowing your writing to become personal. To become something that reflects the life force of the character, rather than simply the life events.

There are times to show, and there are times to tell. So writing a book, short story or whatever creative endeavor you are in right now, is not necessarily the product of one of these modes, and not the other. A book is actually the product of both of these processes – showing and telling – (after all, your characters become like a show and tell item in front of the class) – but in the appropriate parts.

You will want to show your readers what’s going on in the story – you want them to feel the characters – when the moment requires it. The moments that usually require this are significant moments. Moments that change your character for better or for worse. That affect them in profound ways. You want to have this kind of emotional synchronicity between your characters in your reader drawing these points, because it is these points that are going to help your reader develop compassion and a kind of blindness. In other words, this allows for your reader to trust and believe everything the character goes through, and this is important in storytelling. Even if you undermine the stress later in the story because of plot twists, you will still want your readers to identify so closely with characters, that they actually feel slighted – this respected by being led on. But that is for another blog.

Telling is best used when you are not at a critical point in the story. When you are not right at the moment where a life altering event happens, and instead you need to pass time. You need to move the story along. The telling is usually best saved for the connective tissue between a really important development, and the integration of that development. One begins to happen as a result of it.

In other words, if there’s a part that would be “boring” for your readers to experience as the character themselves – finishing in the exam for example – where there is nothing life altering about it, or nothing that happens that deserves to be written home about it, then you can get away with telling in this particular aspect. But right after doing that, you have to jump right back into your character’s skin, and begin experiencing the story all over again. That is, until it is necessary for you to narrate another connective piece.

Your book relies on your ability to make us see and feel the world of your character, the heart of your character, the body and the soul of your character. In this cannot be done through simply telling someone about it. But your book also relies upon your ability to move the story along, to get us to the points we really need to see, and for this we require a skilled, reliable (or not) and discerning narrator to help us continue on our journey.

Keep in mind this week as you write, and accomplish your goals. Until next week, write on!

Creative Attunement December 18-25 2013: A Room of One’s Own

 

Over this last weekend, I held an all-day workshop. During this workshop, near the end of our time together, one of my students asked me, “I see you posting late at night often. Usually with what you’ve been writing. How does your significant other deal with this? Does he have a problem with you being up late?”

To this question I said, “No. Mostly because he is a night owl himself, but also because we have reached an agreement. I have made it clear when and how I would like to have my writing space, and I have recruited him in helping me to honor this creative space.” My student then explained that it was difficult for her to find time and space to write, given that her husband schedule often fluctuates.

To this I responded, “Well, you can’t make time for something you don’t make space for.”

And so we began talking about how to create a sacred space. How to carve out a space and the time for writing. For communing with yourself and your creative energy. This is a very specific act, and a very intimate one. So from my experience, it is not something that most people can do in just an ordinary space in the house. Most writers (myself included) have to retreat to the seclusion and the sanctuary of a given spot, and most often in a given hour.

I have found this is because creation itself is outside of our normal reality. Our normal experience. It is the moment when we interact with something immaterial, and that if we truly hope to engage with it in a meaningful, consistent and honest way, we cannot hope to encounter it during our day to day activities. We cannot expect that we can create something of value to us or our soul, if we are trying to write in between making a grilled cheese sandwich, and answering phones.

We cannot greet our muses, if there is no space for us to greet them. If the house belongs to everyone and everything, and we do not set aside a portion of that house for our creative self – our artistic dreams – then it should be no surprise that they have no place in our lives. That they have yet to make an appearance.

In this, I am reminded of The Law of Attraction. In that if we do not make a conscious effort to prepare ourselves for what we want, it can never come to be. The same is true with finding time and space to create. Actually, it is not a matter of finding it at all, but making it. Committing time and space to your muses, as if they are welcome in your home.

They may come to you. They may have a story they wish to share with you, but if you never open the door for them – if you are too busy to even notice they have come for a visit – then you are out of sync with your creative energy. You have not made time for yourself. I talked a few weeks ago about what I learned from writing on a daily basis. About that being an act of self-love.

And in this idea of creating a room of your own – a sacred space – I have come around to that conclusion once more. That if we have yet to make the time in the space, and are still looking to find it somewhere, we have not truly understand how valuable this time is. How important it is to our spiritual and personal growth.

Virginia Woolf was known to encourage writers – specifically female writers – to create a room of one’s own. A space outside of the rules and laws of normal life, where creativity could intervene. Where imagination could take hold, if only for a little while, and without judgment or interference from the outside world. She was known to advocate this more than anything else. That having a room of one’s own made the difference between creating art, and not.

So create a room of your own. A space of your own, one that can exist outside of the different parts you play, and the different masks you wear. Create a space that is even outside of your own everyday thoughts. As it is these everyday thoughts – these lists of things to do – that often get in the way of us making the effort to make the time and the space to write.

If you hope to get anywhere on your creative journey, you have to first decide that your creative journey has a place in your life.

Creative Attunement December 9-16, 2013: The Importance of Being Omniscient

As I was writing during the latter part of the week last week and through the weekend, I had an interesting experience. I’ve never really had something like this happen before. It’s what happened when I wrote in two different perspectives, and about the same moment in time.

Now, as a writer I’m used to being omniscient. I’m used to seeing the big picture, and being able to drop in and out of different character’s heads. It’s an occupational necessity, as the whole story can never be seen from one angle. But before, when I have written – when I have decided to change perspectives, to drop into the head and heart of another character, culture or otherwise, I haven’t ever shown the same moment in time. It has always been a little further in time, or a little in the past. Or, if it does match up with the events going on in the “main character” experience, it’s the other side of it. It’s the complementary aspect. But it is only complementary because it gives the other side of the story, but this other side is somewhat blind to the event or events as they happened in the main storyline.

This is not what happened over this past week. I am currently writing a collection of pieces which focuses on a particular moment in time, and from two perspectives. Both of these perspectives are recounting the moments as they happen. As you would expect from something with multiple perspectives. The difference, however, is the fact that these perspectives are constantly rubbing shoulders with one another. These perspectives live with each other. Literally. They share the same space, and they are intertwined with one another.

So, foolishly, some part of me assumed that I would get the full story from one of my characters. After all, he is an honest fellow. Why wouldn’t I get anything but the full and complete picture? Well, I didn’t. And that’s because just as people are “blind” to their own shortcomings, their own issues, so too are my characters. Apparently, my characters also will only admit that which they feel like admitting. The rest, they will happily leave to someone else, or hope that it never becomes known.

I didn’t realize this until I dropped in to my other perspective. Until I got behind the eyes of my lesser-explored companion, I had no reason to doubt whether the other character had been completely and brutally honest with me. I found quickly, that he wasn’t. And that my other character was about to be completely and brutally honest for him.

As he began to tell me his side of the interaction, details began to change. Details were added. Words changed in his mouth, and the mouth of his beloved. As I wrote, I marveled at the difference between the two. This was the same moment in time – the same exchange, and yet it was worlds away. Initially, I tried to make this other perspective can form. I tried to make it match the account of my original leading man, but I quickly realized I couldn’t do this.

Not if I wanted to remain in integrity with my role as scribe. So I let the other character tell his story. Make his alterations and his additions. And I am still allowing him to do so. And I am glad. For through this I understand the Importance of Being Omniscient. Your omniscience is not simply given to you because you are the Almighty Author. You have the power to see through any eyes you please, but only if you utilize those eyes.

Omniscience is the result of collective character impressions, not the “scribes-eye-view” that authors use without even thinking about it. In other words, the ability to see the story – the lay of the land – in its ultimate form. This ultimate form is subject to change, and as my other character taught me this past week, it will change. And it should change, only to be sure you’ve really heard the whole story.

About you? When details start to conflict in your story, do you try to make them conform, do you change your story altogether, or do you wait to see how it unfolds?

Creative Attunement December 3-10 2013: What I Learned From National Novel Writing Month

So, this month marks the official end to National Novel Writing Month. I thought it would be apropos to talk about what I learned during that month of creative endeavor. What I took back with me, and what my journey shared with me.

One of the biggest things I learned through my month of writing was how important giving time and space to this activity really is. I learned that I was able to write so much when I was younger (I would write for six hours a day most days with no problem), not so much because I was “invincible.” I’ve been thinking it was because I was invincible for a long time. That is to say, fully supported, and loved for my art by family and friends. Because, indeed, I wasn’t able to write for three years due to a loss of familial support.

But this month showed me a different side. I realized/remembered that the biggest reason I was able to write so much when I was younger was because I was consistent. I consistently made time for my writing. Not only during specific hours of the day, but I made it a priority over everything else. Over going out to dinner. Over hanging out with friends, playing games with family, or anything else. Whenever I was offered an opportunity to become distracted I said, “No. I’ve got writing to do. Sorry.” Putting myself and my creativity first like this was something I hadn’t done in a long time. When I realized this, I asked myself why that was.

The answer surprised me. I realized that I had been guilt tripped by family. I had been ridiculed by some members with them saying to me, “You spend too much time talking and thinking about writing. You spend too much time in your own little world. It’s time for you to come out of it and care about other people.”

I remembered feeling shame. I remembered feeling torn. I did care about other people, but writing was what I loved to do. It was how I showed love to myself. It was how I honored myself and my soul. And I remember feeling miserable. I remembered feeling raw, wondering how something I loved to do could be so annoying to others. Could be seen as so selfish?

But I continued to write, even as I knew people were becoming disappointed. Disappointed that I wasn’t spending my time with them, and was instead spending it with my characters.

But the disappointment grew into all-out judgment. One day my father said to me, “You’ve got to get a real job. You’ve got to spend time doing something useful.” And this isn’t? I remembered thinking. As far as he and a lot of people were concerned, it was a waste of time. It was something to be done to fritter away time, not enhance it.

So I began to feel like other things should be more important than writing. Than that “waste of time.” So I put everyone and everything ahead of me. Ahead of making my soul happy, because that’s what a real friend did. That’s what a real “member of the family” did.

Gradually, I forgot that writing was a way of loving. I wrote for other people. For other projects. But not for me. Not for the love of it, because that wasn’t condoned.

Well, this last month I was able to fix all of that. I was able to remember that writing is loving. That creating is giving, as much as receiving. That making art can be making connections. Can be engaging in your community. In your life, just in a different way.

So what about you? If you participated in National Novel Writing Month, what did you learn? What did the journey unfold for you? Any healing? Creative insight?

Creative Attunement November 22-27 2013: Rejection Helps You Find Your Direction

It’s Friday, and it’s officially the end to a busy week for me. Both in terms of writing for my own projects, and providing literary support to a few up-and-coming authors. That being said, I felt guided to speak to rejection – particularly the rejection we writers face as a result of being brave enough to submit work to publishing houses, magazines and the like.

The decision to submit anything to anyone can be a harrowing experience in and of itself. There are hours of self-doubt that may need to be overcome, as well as the anxiety of whether you’ve chosen the right house to send your work too. The right potential home, because once you send that package in the mail, or as an attachment to an email, your baby’s on its own. It’s left to fend for itself, and in front of the scrutinizing, schooled eyes of an editor.

I have been an editor for a couple small publishing houses myself, so I know what it’s like to be on the other side of the desk. What it’s like to sit there and pour through manuscripts, having to evaluate each one. And evaluated on not only how well it’s written, but how likely someone else would be to read it. And not only read it, but enjoy it. This, in and of itself is subjective. Everyone enjoys different things, and people may enjoy the same thing, just to different levels and in different ways.

It is always hard to have to reject a manuscript, no matter how badly or not it may be written. Because I know how much work – how much ink, sweat and tears – went into the making of it. How many months and hours of loving toil, of blissful torture went into the creation. And yet it gets summed up in a few hours or a few minutes, and has judgment passed upon it. But it is necessary, to make sure a publishing house gets what it needs – gets what it desires – and along the way, hopefully helping an author or two.

When I was working these jobs, I always thought this “insider knowledge” would help me deal with, and prepare for rejection a little better. But this was not so.  As even with more recent submissions, I am fighting my own frustration. My own lack of patience and understanding with some of the publishing houses I have submitted to. So far, they have all been noes. Some of them have been closer to “yes” than others, but it is still not a yes. And I find myself wondering, “What else do I have to have? The thing is well written. It’s well organized. I believe I’ve chosen the right house. Their vibe seems to fit with mine. And on top of all that, I’ve got the credentials they’re looking for. I’ve got the clout. And still they won’t take me! Why?” At this point, as with many of you I’m sure, I have begun to pull my hair out. To drive myself mad, thinking about all these things.

How to negate them, negotiate, mitigate or otherwise get around these things that seem to be holding me back. That seem to be causing a rejection, when all I want is an acceptance.

And this is after I have made it a point to teach my students not to go for self-publishing. That, despite its attractive offerings, it is not a substitute for the traditional means.

And now, I grapple again with the confusion – the frustration and anger of this undertaking. Of getting seen and acknowledged by publishers. Now I am forced to experience again why so many – I myself included – resorted to self-publishing at one time or another. I grapple with the mistrust, the distrust I have of some of these “standards” of some of these “reasons” various publishing houses will give you as to why you were rejected.

But in all this, as much as I would like to stay in my frustration and anger, I can’t. And I can’t because I know what is really at work here. I know that the rejection is not really a rejection. It is not a rejection of me as a person, or as a writer. It is not even an accurate reflection of the work of art I have put before their eyes.

It is simply a chance for me to redirect myself. There may not seem to be any rhyme or reason to these rejections, but only if you are not able to look at spiritual implications. And that’s what I do best. Mixing the spiritual with the physical is what The Write Alignment was founded upon. It was based on my belief that writing in and of itself, and the resulting creations have a spirit and wisdom all their own. They have a magnetic resonance. One that will ultimately find its counterpart in the proper publisher. In the proper outlet.

So this week in particular, after having received one notice of rejection, and sending off another few proposals, I was asked to contemplate what rejection really means. What it means, and what we as writers can do to work with these rejections, rather than fight against them or worse, absorb them. Believe them, and allow them to stop us in our tracks.

What came up for me was this –

Rejections aren’t a negative thing. They aren’t in our writerly life to dissuade us. They are with us to help direct us. To help us find our ideal “literary home” through trial and error. Through putting ourselves out there to the best of our ability, and then allowing the universe – the spirit of our intention and our work – to slowly guide us to where we are meant to be.

Rejections help us understand our direction. They can help us to move forward, if we let them. And I’m also reminded of what my mom always used to tell me when I was younger, and began submitting. I remember my first rejection. I took it pretty hard, and of course my mom tried to comfort me. She said, “Remember that a no isn’t always going to be no. For every no you experience, there is a yes getting closer to you. It’s not someone saying to you ‘this isn’t any good.’ It’s just the universe saying ‘this is not the right fit.'”

“It’s not the right fit.” Those words, out of all the ones she spoke to me that day – those ones stuck with me. And they are the same words I have told many of my students and clients, when they find themselves discouraged by the whole publishing process. I tell them, “Don’t worry about this rejection. It’s just not the right one. It’s just not the right place. Let’s use this and keep going in the direction we’re going. We just won’t stop at any more publishers like that.”

So I suppose I have written this tonight as much for myself as for you. As much for my own comfort as for yours. As you set out this coming week, and as you put your goals on paper, remember that any goal – any dream – is a journey. It’s a process. And that, despite what you may think, success is not made out of success. It is made out of countless failures. Countless “dead ends” or so they appear. Success is not about winning your first time out. It’s about winning – achieving your intended goal – overtime. Over many obstacles and trials.

So if you are facing trials, celebrate them! That is what victory looks like! And if you look a little beat up? Well, that’s what success looks like!