Does your writing pass the 3 tests of métier?

For me, writing is the only thing that passes the three tests of métier: (1) when I’m doing it, I don’t feel that I should be doing something else instead; (2) it produces a sense of accomplishment and, once in a while, pride; and (3) it’s frightening. — Gloria Steinem

What does writing mean for you?

I was looking for my old organic chemistry textbook the other day and instead found a book I vaguely recall telling myself I would never look at again once I finished Technical Writing. The book is called Writing with Style by John R. Trimble and it’s filled with academic conversations about writing that I found only somewhat interesting during my junior year as an English major.

The above quote was on the first page I turned to and, after reading it for a third time, I found myself asking two questions. The first was: What does métier mean?  The second was: How can I add it to a casual conversation this week?

So I did what every logophile does when she stumbles across a new word. I looked it up.

According to Merriam-Webster, métier means 1) Vocation, trade. 2) An area of activity in which one excels: forte.

Looking beyond the common definition, I discovered it’s an old French word that is derived from the vulgar Latin “misterium,” an alteration of the Latin “ministerium” which means work or ministry.

All thoughts of sounding sophisticated (and even more odd) at my next public gathering where immediately cast aside. That one word had just reminded me of three things about writing. Three things I used to know, but had somehow lost sight of in the last few months.

Three Definitions of Writing

1) Writing is a vocation, a trade. We hear this all the time, but for so many of us it’s still just a hobby. As a result it is often set aside for something “more important” or is overshadowed by whatever is captivating our attention most at a given time. The people who really excel are the ones who stay focused.

2) Writing is an activity, which by definition requires action. It’s also a strength. Writing is a difficult skill to truly master. It’s something a lot of people wish they could do but, like learning to play the violin is something few ever take the time to really perfect. Those who know how to write and effectively communicate a message are blessed. It’s a shame and a waste to ignore that gift.

3) Writing is a ministry. People read because they’re looking for something to speak to them. Words encourage in moments of doubt, strengthen in times of weakness, and bring passion to seasons of apathy. Words open up new avenues of thought, take us to places we can’t visit ourselves, and allow us to understand the world through the eyes of a stranger.

Does my writing pass the test?

As I sit here I have to ask myself if writing, for me, passes the three tests of métier. How often does it fully captivate my attention these days? Do I feel accomplished when I finish a project, and do I ever feel proud of that work? There’s no doubt that it’s frightening. And I think that right there is what’s hanging me up right now.

So now I have one more question I need to find the answer to. What am I afraid of? Because, for me, it’s time to face that fear.

Eureka! Finding fullness in a moment of emptiness

History tells a tale of how the Greek scholar Archimedes was stymied by the problem of determining if a goldsmith had cheated the king with a crown made supposedly with only the gold the monarch had provided. Like many of us, he took his quandary with him into the bath and our understanding of volume and density changed forever that day.

I had a similar moment a couple of weeks ago. Although the situation did involve water, it didn’t take place in the bathtub. And I didn’t run through the streets naked, yelling at the top of my lungs afterwards.

The Tale of the Water Pitcher

©2011 gjphotography via Bigstock Photo

I’ve always liked checklists for the simple reason that I love crossing things off. It allows me to look back and see all I’ve accomplished in a day. At the lodge, I cross off the same items every day. One of those items is filling water goblets and placing them out for the morning guests. I’ve determined that for every ten glasses I fill maybe one is emptied. The rest go untouched. Why drink water when you have coffee, tea, and juice available?

Because of this, I end up dumping out and washing dozens of cups that have only my fingerprints on them.

On this particular day I had over thirty guests coming to breakfast and the pitcher I had been given to use on my first day filled four glasses at most. Having sprained my knee recently I was acutely aware of how much walking I was doing refilling water pitchers every morning.

That’s when I remembered seeing a large stainless steel pitcher hidden on the back of one of the shelves in the kitchen.

Based on its size I guessed I could fill all of my cups with only two trips back to the sink and I marveled at my brilliance. Little did I know I was about to have an object lesson play out before me that has stuck with me ever since.

I loaded my tray with the first ten water goblets, filled them with ice, and then added the water. A glance in my pitcher showed that I could easily fill another five to ten more, so I set out the glasses, came back to my station and started again. After filling the next set, I looked in the pitcher again expecting it would be time to refill it.

There was still a quarter of a pitcher of water left.

I was stunned and as I set out my second load I wondered how many more glasses I was going to get out of that one pitcher.

One. Two. Three…Seven…Eight…Nine….

Each time I poured I looked inside to check the water level and could not believe there was still something inside. And with each filled glass I became more and more excited.

It’s in our lowest moments that our biggest blessings are usually found.

I was reminded of the widow who had only a handful of flour and a little oil when Elijah approached her and asked for some bread, and how that handful of food was replenished every day until the end of the famine (1 Kings 17).

I recalled another impoverished widow whose sons were about to be taken from her to cover her debts. Elisha told her to gather as many pots as she could find then fill them with what oil she had in her one little jar. The oil didn’t run out until she had filled every single jar, and so her family was saved (2 Kings 4).

And then I remembered a little boy in a crowd of five thousand who stepped forward to share his two meager fish and five tiny barley loaves, and whose gift resulted in enough leftovers to fill twelve baskets (Matthew 14).

That’s when it hit me—I was the pitcher.

I’d been feeling so drained that I wondered how on earth I could be of any encouragement to others and yet, when I considered the last year, I realized I had never witnessed so many moments of fullness coming out of the supposed emptiness in my life.

And that right there was the catch.

Pitchers don’t fill themselves. They are filled by a main source so that they in turn can fill other vessels.

The same is true of my life. I will never find fulfillment in myself. I have to tap into the Life Source. It’s from that connection abundance flows out of my life and into others (John 4:14).

Like the individuals above, it took a moment of near emptiness to realize just how incredibly blessed my life really is. I don’t have to sit waiting for the right opportunity to come around to make a difference in my world. I can be that difference now.

I’ve come to the conclusion that if what I write or do each day affects only one life, the effort is more than worth it. Just as a pitcher can’t fulfill its purpose by sitting on a shelf, neither can I. And like the pitcher, I don’t have to be overflowing to fill a single glass. 

A little bit goes a long way.

By the time I’d set out all the water goblets I had enough left over to fill three more, and still there were a few drops left at the bottom of that pitcher. I had all I needed for the day, plus some!

So there you have it. My Eureka moment won’t go down in history for changing the world of mathematics, and it may never solve any global problems, but it did improve my perspective.

P.S. To this day, I’ve never been able to fill as many water goblets as I did that morning. But that doesn’t mean I’ve quit trying!

Writing advice from a Sports Trainer

Do what you have to do to eat. But if you want to be a writer you have to write.
 Photo ©2008 MMagallan via Stock.Xchng

One of the hazards (or perks, depending on how you look at it) of working in the service industry is overhearing bits and pieces of guests' conversations. I've picked up conflicting advice on dating, overheard several heated political debates, and have tried to put out of my mind images from sentences I hope never to hear uttered again.

Recently a group of a hundred football players came through. They'd just won their first game of the season against one of our local high schools and most of them were spending the day on the river. After splitting my morning between my breakfast duties and driving shuttles I finally had a chance to clean the lodge.

Usually by this time of day everyone has passed through onto their morning activities and I'm able get through my daily checklist without feeling like I'm underfoot, but on this particular day the sports commentary coming from the TV above the mantlepiece was being ignored by a student who skipped the raft trip and was instead sitting enthralled in the tale of his chaperone.

I didn't get to hear much, but from what I did I learned that the man came from East St. Louis. Having spent some time volunteering there as part of an after-school program during my freshman year of college I had no trouble setting the scene. And like that part of town, it wasn't pretty. It was, however, incredibly intriguing and I found myself working a little slower as the mentor shared about a life that seemed straight out of a Hollywood film. As I walked away with my cleaning supplies I found myself wondering how he had found himself here in Oregon and what made his life so drastically different from some of his family members.

Later on while I was preparing the deck for lunch he came out and struck up a conversation with me. It turns out he's a sports trainer and he works with a lot of the players in his community (both amateur and professional). We started out talking about one of the players who was severely injured in the game the night before. While his teammates were trying to enjoy their victory, he was undergoing surgery. As the captain of three different sports (and he's only a junior this year), he's well loved and respected by his peers. According to the trainer, even if the doctor said he'd never play a sport again, this young man would be the one to prove him wrong. But even if he didn't, he'd do all right for himself. He's just that sort of kid.

There was no mistaking the admiration the trainer had for this young man, and our conversation eventually led into him talking with me about his own journey. By the world's standards he should have been another statistic. Instead he took on the world, put himself through college, started a business that while successful wasn't what he was passionate about, so he sold it and started up his training organization and has never looked back, even when the going was tough. He was living his dream and he couldn't be happier.

That's when he asked about me. 

For the first time in my life I boldly said I'm a writer. I told him how it wasn't what I first set out to do when I started college, but it's what I love. We talked about college, about working with youth, and about what I've been doing this past year. I shared a little about my book and my roughly sketched-out plans for the future.

As I spoke he shook his head and smiled.

"You know what? You're the real thing," he told me. "Don't stop. You keep writing. Don't let anything or anyone hold you back. Do what you have to do to make ends meet right now, but when you get home you make sure you write."

I don't know what encouraged me more, the fact that he called me the "Real thing" or that he took the time to have a real conversation with me. I've gotten so used to the superficial chats with guests that I never would have expected such a huge motivational boost from a complete stranger. In my mind I was just a working grunt. In his mind, I was one of his players who just needed a shove in the right direction.

It was a much needed reminder that my dreams are important, that work doesn't define an individual, and success is rarely what the world describes it as. I'm not the only writer who is working an odd job to put food on the table, so there is no need to feel defensive about it. Unless I use it as an excuse to do anything but write, that is.

Maybe it was his passion that lent me the gumption I needed. Or maybe he just helped me find my own inner fire again. Whatever the case, it was exactly what I needed when I needed it.

I'm still exhausted when I get home from work every day, but now I'm grabbing my laptop or notebook and writing my heart out before I pass out.

Breaking free of the solitary mentality

It's easy to forget as writers that we do not undertake this journey on our own.

The first blog piece I ever wrote was the result of a lengthy correspondence with a writer friend about a malady I dubbed Writer's Isolation. It's a malaise that targets even the most productive writer and its symptoms include: frustration, despair, and a sense of overwhelming loneliness even in the midst of our greatest times of creativity. Two years later I find this continues to be one of the most common plagues affecting the writers I am in contact with, including me.

The writer's life is not a sentence to solitary confinement...

Anyone who has been writing for any length of time can attest that ours is largely a solitary pursuit. We tuck ourselves away in our “offices,” turn on our favorite playlist, and ultimately cut ourselves off from this world in order to cross over to another. Even though we start out with the noblest of intensions, these journeys never come without a price. Writing requires focus, dedication, passion, and a dream that cannot fully be understood by those who aren’t writers. While family and friends may offer a tremendous amount of support, they have a hard time relating to the stress that results from spending long hours alone at the keyboard.

This is why it is vital for writers to connect with other writers. Whether it's through online support, a local critique group, or becoming a member of a larger writing organization, we need to be in frequent communication with other writers about more than how many words we've written or cups of coffee we've poured in one writing session. We need individuals with whom we can be honest, and with whom we feel safe discussing our highest and lowest moments in life.

...Each of us has a role to play within a larger community!

I met many of my writing companions during my time as a member of the Christian Writers Guild and I have many more who are a part of Inspire Christian Writers and other writing organizations. Add in the friends I've made at various conferences around the country, and the community of writers I've joined through Twitter and Facebook, and I have absolutely no excuse not to reach out when I'm struggling. Chances are we rarely, if ever, meet in person, but just knowing we’re on similar journeys goes a long way in forming a bond akin to those of firefighters, soldiers, and police officers. We need to remember we're in the trenches together. We're a part of a unique community who can specifically encourage each other, brainstorm, congratulate accomplishments, swap stories about our real lives, and, as a result, be reminded of why we chose this path in the first place: To inspire others and ourselves.

This also means that we need to be careful in our interactions with each other. It doesn't matter if we're offering a bit of advice, giving a critique, or just chatting for the sake of chatting, our goal should always be to build up and encourage, never to cut down or discourage. Published or not, we're all part of the same team.

No matter what our vocation or location, we were never meant to undertake life’s journey on our own. I think Ecclesiastes 4:9-10 says it best, “Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their work: If one falls down, his friend can help him up. But pity the man who falls alone and has no one to help him up.”

When in doubt, remember: You are never alone.

If you find yourself struggling with Writer’s Isolation, don’t drop your pen in despair. Seek out a fellow traveler who can help you through whatever sludge is dragging your feet down. But most importantly, remember the greatest promise of all: “I am with you and will watch over you wherever you go.” (Joshua 1:9)

Admire the Problem

"The Dragon"

One of the most used Aps on my iPhone is “Shanghai” (not to be confused with the multi-player card game), a game in which the player matches tiles in order to clear themed boards such as a “Dragon,” a “Beatle,” a “Coffee Cup,” and the like. As far back as I can remember this style of game has been my favorite distraction when mulling over a problem or when needing to kill some time in a waiting room.

The thing I enjoy the most about “Shanghai” is that when I finish a board I’m treated to three “Fortunes.” True to form, some of the sayings are vague (ie. Your emotional nature is strong and emotional), some are rather comical (ie. Never, ever fry bacon in the nude), and some just really make you think.

Enlightenment comes while ducking the “unsolvable” riddle

The other day while avoiding my keyboard I noticed something interesting — when I consider the entire board I am able to find multiple matches at once, when I look for a specific match I tend to get stuck. Then I get frustrated and have to put it down for a bit. It’s very similar to what happens when I’m writing. When I focus too much on one particular aspect of the story without considering the entire plot I get blocked, I get frustrated, and I pick up my phone.

I think the game read my mind while I was thinking those thoughts because when I finished my puzzle it gave me the following fortune:

If you don’t have a solution, you should admire the problem.

Now I know what admire means, but I decided to turn to my dictionary and read the definition again. The origin of the word, according to Merriam-Webster, is “from the Middle French admirer, to marvel at, from Latin admirari, from ad- + mirari to wonder…” Synonyms include: appreciate, consider, esteem, regard, respect, and set store by.

Going by that definition I returned to mulling over my “fortune.”

When we take the time to admire a problem we’re able to distance ourselves from it, to consider it from all angles before coming to a conclusion —one that may actually be something we wouldn’t at all have considered had we just been staring at one aspect of problem itself. (This is exactly the sort of thing Sherlock Holmes has been preaching to me since I was in middle school, but like Dr. Watson, too often I see without observing.)

This brought me to my next epiphany...

Writers are by nature problem solvers.

We enjoy creating hopeless scenarios and then working to find THE solution. Like Captain Kirk, we don’t believe in a no-win situation. If we can’t find the answer we’ll rewrite the story to suit our purposes.

And therein lies one of the writer’s biggest challenges.

When a solution does not readily make itself apparent we get frustrated. We curse our inability to write well. We mope about in our pajamas. We avoid our manuscripts saying we’re too busy or too bored with the concept. We obsess. We pout. We threaten to quit. Then, wouldn’t you know it, the moment we step back and throw up our hands…LIGHT BULB!

When we take the time as writers to “admire” the problems we come up against in our writing, to consider them from all angles, a full picture emerges in which the possibilities become readily apparent. Rather than coming at a problem like a hurdle that must be overcome at all costs, perhaps we should approach it as like a piece of artwork that takes a little time, a little patience, and a dash of respect to discover its many mysteries.

Who knows what we’ll uncover when we do.

Your turn! How do you look at problems that arise when you’re writing? What helps you work through them?

Tulle, Lace, and Ribbons...for the bride!

On Saturday, my little sister will begin her new life with an incredible young man. And we are all incredibly excited for her!

Needless to say, we currently find ourselves surrounded by enough tulle, lace, and ribbon to swaddle the mountains that hem in our beautiful valley. Now, if only those same mountains will drive away the clouds are supposedly going to sweep in come this weekend. (The wedding is outside!)

Rain or shine, it is going to be a beautiful ceremony and the chaos of the past few weeks of preparation has given me plenty of food for thought, and feast of ideas for future use in my own writing. This is what a writer's life should be like!

If you're finding yourself drained this week, take some time off to enjoy the beautiful summer weather. Do something creative. Then get back to your desk and write about what you discovered!

Untitled Midnight Thoughts

It’s early yet. The night is still deep, yet as I step into the freezing fog to grab a few more logs for the fire the patio is washed in a pale glow. Looking up, a nearly full moon peaks through wisps of silver and I wish the cold weren’t sucking all the heat out of my feet so I could stand and watch a little longer. It’s quiet now, but earlier the frogs were calling out so loud it seemed as if they could fill the pond to Egyptian-plague-like proportions. Stepping back inside, wood in hand, it dawns on me. This is my last night in the stillness that can only really be found at the base of the mountains.

Tomorrow instead of watching the geese and ducks diving into the water it’ll be cars speeding through a street they should be more cautious on. Bass solos will replace the birds’ chorus, and competing television programs and the occasional wail of an emergency will take the place of the midnight chirps and croaks.

And surprisingly enough, as I add one last log to the fire, I find myself ready to go home.

The Great Acorn War

No, this isn’t a forgotten squirrel stash…

it’s my secret ammo store so I can get back in action during the next skirmish.

I grew up in a small rural town in Southern Oregon. As a result, more often than not my only playmates were my four younger brothers and sisters. While that can sound kind of isolating to some, our modestly sized property afforded us with many enjoyable afternoons. In front of our home was a grove of trees where we would build thicket homes, behind us was a creek where we spent many a summer day swimming. Our bicycles were our noble steeds. Our radio flyer wagons became magic carpets. (Trust me, those things fly down hills and are incredibly fun to race!) And mom’s vegetable garden and fruit trees often were raided prior to a great quest.

Then came fall and the annual rain of acorns. For the life of me I can’t remember who threw the first “oak nut” as my cousin once called them. Perhaps it was dad just being funny and pegging one of us in the back. Maybe one of us got mad at the other and chucked the first thing that was handy but wouldn’t kill the person we were irked at. Whatever the inciting incident, it sparked a war that flames up again about this time of year. In fact, as I write this I’m flushed and out of breath from the first volley of the 2011 Great Acorn war. Over the years, my aim has improved and I hit my target (in this case my brother Matthew) more than I get pelted myself. Note to self: watch your back while exiting mom and dad’s house for the rest of the month.

The rules of engagement are quite simple: you have thirty seconds to gather as many acorns as you can fit into your hands and pockets, then run. You can duck around trees but you have to stay away from windows. Headshots are allowed, but the face is off limits. When you’re out of acorns, reload as fast as you can, but be aware — your opponent can still hit you if he or she still has ammo. And finally, the aim is to have fun, not to hurt anyone.

So what do acorn wars have to do with writing? First, stories like this aren’t unique to my family. By incorporating them into my fiction and non-fiction writing, I’m not only sharing a part of my life with my readers I’m inviting them to recall some of their own childhood experiences which in turn makes my story, real or imagined, more relatable. Second, getting up from the desk and acting like a kid for a little bit isn’t just fun, it helps work out tension in the body from sitting in one position for too long. Laughing, running, and enjoying nature allows us to forget about the scenes that have ground to a slow crawl. It enables us to clear our minds and look at problems from a different perspective. And it can spark a new idea to run with when you feel like you’ve exhausted all other avenues of thought.

So, put down the pen. Close the laptop. Grab a sweater with big pockets and ambush an unsuspecting loved one. Afterwards you can negotiate a ceasefire over a cup of spiced cider.  

The Writer vs. The NonWriter: Overcoming the battle of Writer’s Guilt

I have a confession to make. It’s been over a week since I sat down with my writing. That’s not to say I haven’t written anything, I just haven’t touched my Work In Progress. And as I type these words I admit that I during that time I couldn’t help but feel a sense of shame; as if I’m guilty of some unforgivable crime. As if I have no right to call myself a writer.

I could easily claim end of summer activities have gotten in my way, that my day job has taken up more time, or that a week-long migraine has turned me into a pseudo-vampire whose fatal weakness is the stabbing glare of a computer screen. All of this is true, but as my brother so aptly likes to remind me, excuses are like armpits….

Everyday I see other writers posting their goals for the day, how they’ve written so many words by a certain time, how they’ve stayed up late and are celebrating with a bowl of ice cream, and I think: these people are the writers, not me. Their lives are just as busy, but somehow they’re making it work.

This evening, I happened to look at my bookshelf and noticed “How to Grow a Novel” by Sol Stein. It had been a while since I read it so I took it out and opened it to the foreword where I saw I had at some point in time underlined the following passage, “A writer is someone who cannot not write… a nonwriter is someone who can write or not, who does not have the drive and need to put words on paper.”

In re-reading this, it suddenly dawned on me. I haven’t worked on any of my fiction writing lately, but I have been writing every single day. I’ve written a couple of blog pieces, a human-interest piece for work regarding the damage a small model manufacturer suffered at the hands of Hurricane Irene, and I also spent several days working on a devotional piece for my youth group’s monthly newsletter.

My fiction writing is still a skill I’m learning to master. The notes (though thankfully largely positive) from my beta readers on my WIP are proof enough of that. My fiction writing has not yet made it out into the world, though I am ever hopeful that it will soon. My non-fiction writing, however, is a completely different matter. It’s already being seen and, more importantly, it’s already being used to make a difference in the lives of those who read it.

Last week I received an e-mail from a young woman I’ve never met in response to my post “The Honest Writer.” In it, she shared a good deal of her life story, which bore an uncanny resemblance to my own. As a result, we exchanged a few additional messages that encouraged both of us in our writing and everyday lives. If I was a nonwriter, the words that spoke to her at that particular moment would never have been set down on a page. If I was a nonwriter, I would be in bed sleeping off the effects of a migraine right now rather than braving the light emanating from my screen. And if I was a nonwriter, than I would never have told my mother years ago: Sometimes all I want to do is write. Most of the time it’s all I can think about. When I don’t write I have this ache inside me, right here in the middle of my chest. My arms get tense, like there is this pent up energy inside of me that can only be channeled through a pen.

I said earlier that I often see writers talking about their achievements, but I also see writers struggling with the same sense of guilt and helplessness in their writing endeavors that I’ve faced this past week. So I put to you Sol Stein’s words — a writer is someone who cannot not write; whether it’s a story; an article for a newspaper, magazine, or newsletter; a blog piece; a devotional; a poem; or a song. If that describes you, if the only relief you can find to that odd “ache” in your chest, your arms (or your head) is by putting the pen to page or filling a blank Word doc, then you, my friend are a writer.

When life gets hectic and you can’t write for a week, a month, or even years, don’t let senseless guilt prevent you from picking up again right where you left off. Just take it one step at a time until you reach that final goal. And then, start again.

7 Ways to recapture your creative spirit

There are days when I feel as if my creativity is as elusive as Peter Pan’s wayward shadow. I can jump at it and try to corner it all I want, but just when I think I have it in my grasp, it wriggles away and I find myself sitting on the floor crying because I can’t make it stick. While I may not have a Wendy Darling to sew it back on for me, I do have a few tricks that help me get back to writing when I feel like I’ve lost my “shadow” for good.

7. Get up early and watch the sun rise.

The most beautiful sunrise I have ever seen was from the window of a plane. I watched in awe as the towering clouds took on a grape-juice-colored hue and slowly turned rose quartz pink. Then, in a flash of blinding light, I found myself staring at a sea of white that reminded me of pictures of Antarctica. I spent the duration of the flight donned in thermal wear, a thick parka, and hiking through the snow with all the equipment an explorer needs to discover a new world.

6. Get away from the city lights and stay up all night stargazing.

There are few things I find give me a shiver of delight the way the stars do on a moonless night. The fact that flaming orbs placed light years apart can, from our vantage point, create an image the entire world recognizes in the form of constellations just amazes me. As a young girl, I was obsessed with Greek mythology. I gobbled up every book in the library I could find on the subject and still remember many of the stories to this day, so for me, it’s like looking for old friends in the sky.

5. Play dress up with a child.

Both my mom and my dad would occasionally play dress up with us kids and attend royal balls, tournaments, or have tea with us in Paris. Looking back, I can’t think of a time I was more imaginative than when I’d put on my dad’s dress blues or one of my mom’s dresses. Last night I played princess with my cousin’s little girl, and her stories would have gone on late into the night had daddy not said it was time for bed.

4. Listen to live music outdoors

I love music! Even more so when I can see the performers in action. Earlier this month I was at Pike’s Market for the day and watched an amazing group playing outside the original Starbucks Coffee Shop; had I not been with a group of high schoolers, I would have stood there all day. Music captures the soul in a way that few other art mediums can, and during the summer you can usually find more than one festival or concert in the park to fill your creative spirit. If you find something you particularly like, get a CD and add it to your writing playlist for a burst of inspiration when the summer venues close.

3. Buy or borrow a book full of pictures of a place you want to visit.

I have several books about Scotland (a place I will visit before I’m old and gray!). The landscapes astound me and the mossy ruins lead me to wonder about the lives lived and lost behind those walls. I also collect postcards of all the places I visit and ask friends to bring me back a few when they travel. When I’m looking for ideas on how to describe a particular scene, I’ll often refer to the books and postcards for inspiration.

2. Make a collage of inspirational quotes that motive you (Or read old love letters…)

I personally don’t have a collection of love letters laying around, but I do have a few encouragement notes from a dear friend that I treasure. They remind me of my passion, and encourage me to press on when I’m struggling to find my way. I also keep quotes I discover around me. Some are on the white board in my kitchen; some are on my bathroom mirror. Still others are tacked, taped, or pasted around my desk and writing areas. Quotes remind me that I’m not blazing new trails in unknown territory and that plenty of others have made their way before me. If they can do it, well, so can I.

1. Pull out the first story you wrote and kept. (Ignore the inner critic and read it as you did the first time you wrote it)

Most of the stories I wrote as a child have been lost over the years (multiple moves will do that). But I do keep a couple of plastic file bins that I’ve filled with scraps and stories I’ve written since then. Pulling those out and reading them lets me see where I was and how far I’ve come. It also reminds me of the early excitement I had when I was first starting to write, and I find all sorts of “new” ideas to use in my current WIPs.

I’d love to hear from you! What helps you catch your elusive creative spirit when you need it most? Post in the comments below!

–Jen