Sherri L. Smith, Author at Two Trees

Switching Gears

Dear Writers,

Sometimes writing can be like riding a bicycle—not because you never forget how to do it, but because it can sometimes feel like an uphill grind. And then you hit that beautiful tipping point where you catch your wind and then it’s just smooth sailing from there on. And the extra wonderful moment is when you coast down the other side of the hill, sweat dried, skin cool, grinning at the sheer exhilaration of it all.

You’ve finished your piece! And now you’re coasting. Occasionally pedaling, wondering what do I do next? I’m currently in that peddle period, not smitten with any one idea over another. Not convinced anyone will even want another book from me. Not sure which story the world needs to hear that will heal all of our psychic wounds and somehow pay me gobs of money at the same time. (Wouldn’t that be nice?) So I pedal, and I coast, and think about how hard that last grind was and wonder what story will be worth doing it all over again.

Coasting, pedaling, isn’t a high gear endeavor. For me and my writing practice, it takes the form of eating up experiences: lots of reading, and listening to things— other creative people from all around the arts, music, unofficial storytellers. This fall, that has included an amazing literary horror convention at a public library, complete with lectures from Tananarive Due on her bestselling novel The Reformatory, and Francesca Lia Block on writing Gothic lit. It meant going to hear Annie Lennox talk about her new photo memoir and her incredible creative life. And tagging along to a Día de los Muertos party at an artist’s house decked out in marigolds and rainbow colors. It meant wandering the Enchanted Realms Book Festival, complete with roving warrior elves. Just the world doing its thing. Being amazing.

The writing life is like the Tour de France. Sometimes you’ve just got to slow down to grab your water bottle and a high protein snack. Take a breath. Rest your writing legs without letting them cramp up. Sometimes you end up gliding to a stop and you get off the damn bike completely. Unlike the Tour de France, in writing you can stay off for a long time. Days. Weeks. Months. Decades. But even decades later, some butterfly of an idea might drift in front of you, and back on the bike you go. The only difference is now it’s time to switch gears.

When that idea butterfly comes along, you hike your butt up in the air and you crank your way up to 10^th gear, chasing to see where it takes you. Maybe it turns out not to be “the one,” and you settle into coasting again in that gentle, dreaming gear. But one day “the one” will come along, and you’ll be rested and full of whatever it takes when that next mountain comes, and you will shift into high gear again, writing muscles burning, determined to get to the top.

Chains slip sometimes. Your pantleg gets caught. You get flat tires. The cars of the outer world come waay too close. But stick with it. You might need to join a cycling team, some folks to help you keep pace. Or maybe you need a deeper break. A treat, or a retreat sounds nice. (Isn’t that a good word, re-treat, like you’ve already had a goodie, and now you’re getting another one!) That’s what the Solstice retreat is all about. Slowing down to look at the scenery, feel the sun on your shoulders, and relax into it. Whichever gear you’re in, just enjoy it. The road keeps unfolding beneath us. There is writing to be done.

Happy riding,

Sherri

Fairy Tale Survival Kit

by Sherri L. Smith

Dear Writer,

What is so precious to you that you would wrap it in velvet?

This is one of the questions we ask in my first Story Forest Path, Little Red Writing Hood. Little Red earned her nickname from the velvet hood her grandmother made for her, because she loved her little granddaughter so much. I covered journals in red velvet for the writers who took this path with me, because their work is precious and should be treated as such.

This question has become particularly poignant in watching the news of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. I lay awake last night wondering how you live in a war zone. Do you flee, do you hunker down? Are there guidelines to follow the way there are for earthquakes and hurricanes? (Are they the same? Shelter in place, move to safety when it is safe to do so, have a go bag and two weeks of emergency supplies?) What becomes precious in those few moments when your world changes completely?

There is so much we might wrap in velvet, if it would do any good.

So maybe a red velvet cloak cannot shelter your world. Perhaps we cannot stop the wolves every time. But we can let the precious things in our life know they are valued. We can try to carry as much of them as we can if we must flee.

It seems strange to reapply this to writing. But there are Wolves and there are wolves. What is threatens to devour your writing? What merely lures you off into the woods?

The Grove Retreat is one way of wrapping your creative self in velvet. We’ll be digging into an old tale—right now I’m thinking of “Vasilisa the Beautiful”— to ask these sorts of deep questions about our writing practice. Vasilisa’s is a story about a young woman who must trust her intuition to retrieve the spark of fire from an ancient witch. We might ask the question: What is the mother of your writing practice or your story? And see what we find. Or perhaps you would like to excavate the mythic bones of your own unique work?

Whether you are joining us at the Grove next month or not, I hope some of these questions might resonate with you, and take you deeper into your own Story Forest. You can start by asking yourself, what would you wrap in velvet? What color would you choose? Then go out and get a swath of heavy, rich fabric and wrap yourself in it, too.

Happy writing,

Sherri