Take Your Time

Take Your Time

Dear Writers,

Last week, I hired a friend to build me a customized bookcase for my writing space. The bookcase takes up two walls. My books and notebooks have now been liberated from their precarious piles on the floor—culled and neatly arranged on shelves.

While sorting through these piles, I had to go through each notebook to decide what I wanted to keep. As I did this, I noticed how many Post-it notes had been pasted into my notebooks. Post-it notes, as it turned out, were the unintimidating little squares that offered me a blank space to write—a blank space that said, You can make a note to return to later—later when you have more time.

What I took away from this observation was this: I had everything I needed to write. The only thing missing was time.

Over the years of not having enough time—of working a full-time job that bled into the waking hours of every day of the week—I became an expert at finding stories about writers who did make the time. Some wrote when their families were asleep. Some wrote on the train to and from work. Some wrote during their lunch hours. Some checked into motels for the weekend. Some used apps to stop themselves from going online. One wore a special hat so her husband would not disturb her. Another treated writing like high-intensity interval training from the gym. Some hid their phones. Some created special desks in their homes or carved out a corner in a coffee shop.

I believe I tried all these ideas—except for wearing the hat and installing the app. And I did write. But not consistently. And certainly not by making it a priority.

My Notes Taught Me Seven Post-it-Note-Sized Lessons

  1. Post-it note lesson #1: Prioritize writing—or it won’t happen.
  2. Post-it note lesson #2: Schedule writing time (days and hours) and stick to it.
  3. Post-it note lesson #3: Take yourself and your writing seriously.
  4. Post-it note lesson #4: Work toward a deadline that means something to you.
  5. Post-it note lesson #5: Establish a weekly word count and do your best to reach it.
  6. Post-it note lesson #6: Create accountability (join a writing community or find a writing partner).
  7. Post-it note lesson #7: Ask yourself: Why and/or for whom are you writing? (Write the answer on another Post-it note and paste it where you’ll see it daily.)

Last summer, I taught a class called Writing and Accountability. My syllabus began with the following quote:

Whatever you’re meant to do, do it now.
The conditions are always impossible.

— Doris Lessing, Nobel Prize in Literature, 2007

After reading my notebooks and the Post-it notes inside them, I realized—again, not for the first time—that the most important gift a writer can give themselves is time. And the second most important gift is accountability.

A writing retreat is the place where these two gifts are folded into one. And if you’re lucky, that gift can happen in a space where nature’s beauty offers you the chance to wake refreshed, to be still, to daydream.

A writing retreat is a time to listen to the voice that has been trying to reach you for weeks, probably months—possibly longer.

Sometimes this voice says, Take your time.
Sometimes it says, Take your time.
Today, it’s saying, It’s time.

This Two Trees Solstice Retreat will be the space that not only hears your internal voice but also offers you its echo—it’s time, it’s time, it’s time.

Happy New Year! 

Elena

Switching Gears

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 10th 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