Step Away From the Writing Desk (A Love Letter)
Yes, for once, I'm encouraging you to actually stop writing
It helps me enormously if you drop a heart on this newsletter, forward it to a friend, or share it on social media. And I adore comments! I love hearing from you, so you can hit reply and email me any time. Thank you for sharing your Sunday morning with me.
Dear lovies,
Somewhere out in the world, the sun is rising over golden fields. A boat is making its way down a gently rippling river. A baby is crying. A dog is howling. Rain is falling, dripping off fir boughs. Brilliantly-colored leaves are falling, flowers are blooming. A married couple is arguing, on the verge of calling it quits. Another couple is newly in love. A group of friends is bonding over beers, their steins lifted in a toast. A child is trudging through snow to another school day, and his teachers is stuck in a traffic jam caused by the storm.
Life is unfolding in myriad ways, as it does.
And we’re sitting at our writing desks staring at our computers.
But I am here to remind you that, a writing career is more than time spent actually writing. A writing career is more than the sum of its parts.1
It’s about the families and friends who interrupt our writing but also inspire us. It’s about the experiences we have that may be nerve-wracking at the time, but we later look back on with fondness. (Want to take a drive from France to Italy? It’ll be fun!) It’s about getting out into the world so we have something to actually write about.
A week ago Saturday, my daughter and I attended an embroidery class. (This was my Christmas present from her.) The class was in-person, taught by the wonderful Rebecca Ringquist.) I was looking forward to it, and also worried about giving up my Saturday morning, when I often try to sneak in more writing time. But stitching is one of my passions2, I love Rebecca’s wares, and it was a lovely gift, so off we went.
The two store owners, Rebecca, and the rest of us gathered around a huge table in a freezing chilly space. We’d never all met before. But within minutes, we were chatting and laughing away as we grabbed our threads and started stitching. In her newsletter this week, Rebecca said, “I laughed so hard I thought I might keel over.” We all did! (Laugh hard, not keel over.) It was wonderful. And besides the laughter (or in some cases, because of) there were the stories. One of the women had befriended a whole murder of crows but she had to keep them away from her apartment complex so she’d trained them to meet her in the nearby park. One who had gotten divorced a few years ago told of that first holiday. Her two small boys desperately wanted a big Christmas tree but she couldn’t afford one. But one day the new man in her life arrived at the door with a huge, fresh-cut one. (She’s now partners with him, Hallmark Christmas movie anyone?) Stories of chickens and cows and city life, all gist for the mill.
Also this week I met a writer friend for breakfast at a cafe/nursery/gift shop. We talked about writing and publishing and how hard it all is. But we also talked about shoulder surgery and why I should avoid it at all costs, dogs getting neutered, Italy, and elk invading her garden and eating all her corn. (The starts of which she had purchased at this very same nursery when we met for lunch here last spring.) (And also—did you know a herd of elk can also be called a gang? It’s an Old English and Old Norse word. I looked it up.) I delighted in the way Christmas had taken over the entire place, with huge blow-up snowmen and Santas and cut trees everywhere. I stopped to smell them. Alas, Nobles do not smell much. (And yes, I am a fierce advocate of real Christmas trees. My MFA novel was set on a Christmas tree farm, and my state is the largest grower of Christmas trees in the nation. Fake trees—-pshaw.)
In this strange and sometimes disturbing fall, these experiences were balm to my soul. Not only my story-tellers soul, but my personal soul. The too are intricately related. So often in my writing life I stay holed up at home, wanting to make time to write. While that’s an admirable goal, it needs to be balanced with getting out in the world and experiencing life. So that we have something to write about.
Community and connection is so, so important. Find your writing friends. There’s nothing like sharing talk about writing, complaining about the publishing world, recommending ways to get unstuck. Or go out and find people who share one of your other interests. Are you a woodworker? There’s a community for that. Do you repair lawnmowers? There’s a group for that. Or at least I think there is, haha. Community helps you make your way into the light. (One way to find community is to take a writing workshop. Maybe in, oh, how about England or France? Shameless plug for Let’s Go Write workshops in those very places.)
So go out there and do stuff. And then come back home and write.
Love, light, and good writing,
Charlotte
P.S. Leave a comment and tell me what you’ve been up to lately—and/or about your writing.
Articles
A way to cope. Small good things.
Sahil Bloom always writes interesting and helpful newsletters, as was this one.
My friend Terry’s introductory Substack essay is well worth a read.
Books
Summer School, by Dominca De Rosa. This is a novel about a writer’s retreat set in a villa in Tuscany. (Any ideas why I wanted read it?) Dominca de Rosa is the pen name for Elly Griffiths, who writes the Ruth Galloway series and other mysteries. I believe all of her de Rosa books are out of print, but many copies are available at resellers. (Mine is a tattered library reject with a plastic cover I can’t remove, and browning, near-crinkly pages.) It’s a fun read, not as sophisticated as her mysteries, but I’m enjoying it.
I had a weird issue with our wifi this week and couldn’t download any of the books I’d purchased on my Kindle. (Pro tip: get books downloaded onto your Kindle as soon as you buy them.) Suddenly today it started working again and I promptly joined KDP (I’ve resisted for years and they had a cheap introductory price) and downloaded ALL the cozy books in any genre I could find. Because it’s peak cozy season and I’m going all in. More to report soon.
Workshops in England and France
Information, including dates and cost, for our 2025 England workshops is now listed on our website. And heads up! Due to distractions beyond our control, we’ve moved the deadline for the early-bird discount to December 1. We’ve had several writers indicate strong interest in joining and a couple of sign-ups already, so we recommend registering soon.
I’ve just updated our France page as well!
And if you want a taste of the adventure that awaits, you can read my posts about this year here, and here, here, here, and here.
Other places to connect with me:
My website (badly in need of an upgrade)
Our workshop website
My original blog (now for archive purposes only, no longer updated)
This is a riff on an old line I was reminded of when I read my friend David Paine’s newsletter this month. He’s a real estate agent and he said, “A house is more than the sum of its parts.” If you’re buying or selling a home in Nashville, he’s your man. He makes the best cocktails, too.
Repetitive motion activity is my go-to for releasing writer’s block. I often forget to recommend this to people because it’s such a common part of my life. Stitching, knitting, walking, gardening. Prosaic. Is it coincidence that I’ve been writing like a fiend ever since I took that embroidery workshop? I think not.
I LOVE this letter. YES to the experiences.
Thanks for this reminder to step away and drink in life. God’s world out there is gorgeous! And needlework is the best! Thanks for the tip on Terry’s post, too: “Put something into the world that wasn’t there yesterday.” Very encouraging.💕