So, August brought me back to square one, marking up my pretty new notebook with colorful colors, asking the markers big questions like,
It feels like the whole thing wants to fall down and start over again.
I made a bit of headway, an attempt to map out the plot line and identify scenes.
But truth is, I’m not feeling it. It’s not grabbing me. And that’s no fun.
The last time I spoke to my writing mentor he asked me a question that I think I might finally have the answer to. He asked me, “Are you writing this book for you, or to be published?”
At the time I went with ‘published’, because sure, I’d love for that dream to come true.
But as the months are going by and the words aren’t coming, I keep bumping into the other truth. That actually, maybe, really I just want to write this for me.
If you ever read Elizabeth Gilbert’s ‘Big Magic’, maybe you remember the part where she gives her two cents about writing books for other people; whether to spread a message, or save the world, or that kind of thing. She calls bullshit on that and says something like, don’t write it for your reader, write it for yourself. Be selfish with it.
(Note: That’s not a direct quote. I lent my copy to a friend and never got it back (the book is that good lol), so I’m paraphrasing here, or maybe completely making this up :) ).
But even if I am making it up, it feels kind of true. I need to write this for me.
I get what my mentor was getting at… if you want this published, there’s a market you need to appeal to, a timeless way to tell a story, and fundamentals to nail down. Fundamentals like plot line and character development and things that I have no clue about.
But here’s the thing; as I’ve started to learn more about them, trying to apply them to this story, my body has something else to say about it.
My body is saying No. Not those things yet.
My body’s been sending me a message, through the feeling of blah and meh and a wrinkled up nose as I scribble a colorful outline on the page.
The ball finally dropped.
I can’t tell the story yet. Because my body is the one that has a story to tell. And she has to tell it first.
My body has lived the story, and for now, all I need to do is give it a voice.
Yes, learning the basics of storytelling will probably come in handy, and yes I am eager to learn, but when I sit down to write, for now, I just need to let my body speak.
I’m going to try that this month and see where that takes things. Stay tuned.
PS… the first book club gathering is happening this month! I’m excited for it and want to fill you in on what I’m hoping for.
Picture low lights, maybe candles, soft music, and a hot drink to sip (in a zoom room, although wouldn’t it be nice to be in a low-ceilinged room together, with exposed wooden beams and big comfy chairs and a plush rug to snuggle up next to a fire with?)
I’m feeling the warmth of the hearts in the room, and the coziness of giving ourselves some space to relax into our bodies, feel into our hearts. The conversation might start with a sigh, or a yawn, or a giggle, as someone starts to share… “You know what that [part, sentence, word] really reminded me of…” and then goes on to tell their own story.
You see, this gathering is not about my story or the words I’m writing, but a way to make peace with, love up on, or get to know your own story.
It’s less about what happened to me, and what my body has to say about it, and more about what happened to you, how your body feels about it, and what it has to say about that. My story is just the conversation starter.
In short, the ‘book club’ is really about you (and saying that, probably needs another name.)
If this feels like something you’d love to come along to, you’re welcome to join us.
You can join by becoming a Paid Supporter for £10.28 a month, with your first month on me. As of now, your contribution goes towards my membership to the London Writers Salon which gives me accountability to sit down and write, plus workshops and more to learn the actual craft.
In the meantime, thanks for reading, for your energetic support, and virtual hugs. See you next month.