On Not Being Able to Write (A Love Letter)
On Not Being Able to Write (A Love Letter)
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As I put together this week’s newsletter, I had an idea—why not get into the spirit of Black Friday and Cyber Monday and offer a holiday flash sale? I’m offering 20% off membership levels. That means a monthly subscription will run you $6.40, and an annual $64. Offer good through next Sunday, December 3rd. And thank you, thank you, thank you, for supporting my writing!
Hello my lovelies,
I now have the mental bandwidth to write you a proper love letter and I’ve been looking forward to it as I wheel around the house with my walker, which I often forget and call my “stroller.” To get the surgery update out of the way, I’m doing well, improving daily. And, I will admit, it is a bit of a slog.
But here’s the truly shocking thing—I’ve not been writing. And by writing, I mean working on my WIP. The last time I actually connected with it is a dim memory lost in the foggy mists of time. And weirdly, I’m okay with it. None of the usual, you should be writing, you should be writing, you should be writing mantras running through my mind.
As I mentioned in my last, brief letter, surgery is a reset. In the days running up to it, I had to stop all supplements, and all OTC medications. Gone were my probiotics that keep my tummy happy, the ibuprofen that defends against headaches, the herbal Cardiotone that keeps my blood pressure regulated. And, ahem, wine. Not exactly a supplement or medication, but close. In the aftermath, I’ve been so full of pills I didn’t start any of them up again for a long while. Including wine. (I don’t expect that to last long.)
I bring this up for a reason—because it stands to reason that clearing everything out of my body also is an opportunity to clear things out of my brain. Instead of writing, I’ve been reading and watching stupid delightful Christmas movies. I’ve been cocooning myself in story. Which truly is wonderful. It’s as if I’m restocking the brain stores with all the words I need to write with over the winter.
I also realized a couple of things this morning. Thing number one is that recovering from surgery is a very self-centered enterprise. It’s all about me, me, me. Most of my conversations with my husband center around what medicines I need, if it’s time for more ice, whether or not I’ve done my PT exercises. So how in the hell do I expect to be able to enter the head of a character from this me-centered state? And thing number two is that the stages of surgical recovery echo that of the hero’s journey (not that I’m calling myself heroic). I had a full-on bleakest moment when I awoke the other morning, after awakening from yet another restless night’s sleep and trudging with my walker into the day, feeling quite sick of it all. But eureka, just like in the stories, this was my lowest point. And from there it has been all uphill.
So all this by way of saying that this experience has made me renew my faith in the power of story. In my gratitude that what I get to do in the world is tell stories. In the knowledge that this time out, this reset, is only going to strengthen my ability to do so going forward. And in this season of gratitude, wonder, and believing, I hope that you, too, will remember the joy and solace of writing.
Love, light, and good writing,
Charlotte
P.S. By popular decree, the next class will be about writing through distractions. Such as, um, surgery? But mostly the upcoming holidays. It’s a one-session job for paid subscriber, unless I get too excited, and look for it sometime this week.
Books
Penelope in Retrograde by Brook Abram. Fun rom-com.
Second Act, by Danielle Steele. Yes, I read a Danielle Steele novel. That’s a few hours of my life I’ll never get back. If telling, telling, telling and head-hopping is your jam, be my guest.
The Nantucket Inn, by Pamela Kelly. The author is my current idol because she is leading the way for self-publishing success for women’s fiction writers. Quick, light read, simple, clear conflicts and resolutions and truly a page-turner.
Midnight at the Christmas Bookshop, by Jenny Colgan. The sequel to one of my favorite books from last year. It did not disappoint.
You Don’t Belong Here: How Three Women Rewrote the Story of War, by Elizabeth Becker. Fascinating account of female war correspondents in Vietnam. Reading for research.
The Traitor, by Ava Glass. My other current obsession: female spy novels. This is second in the Emma Makepeace series.
Articles and Resources
The effect of rewards on book sales.
Glimmerings, which are the opposite of triggers. They are little moments of delight and joy and writers would do well to note and collect them.
The ten best indie publishing houses.
How to add more time to your life.
Sometimes getting it wrong makes it better.
Events
Creative writing workshops in France and Italy next year. (England is now full.) See all here.
As I put together this week’s newsletter, I had an idea—why not get into the spirit of Black Friday and Cyber Monday and offer a holiday flash sale? I’m offering 20% off membership levels. That means a monthly subscription will run you $6.40, an annual $64. Offer good through next Sunday, December 3rd. And thank you, thank you, thank you, for supporting my writing!
A re-set is the best fuel to drive on! Be patient and kind to yourself during recovery. The creativity will flow at the right time. With that, you’ve inspired me to take a time out, and a deep breath. 😊