The other day I wrote two posts mostly around the same topic, albeit different.
The first post was written for others. Check it out, here.
The second post was still digesting, but I sent it out anyway, Check it out, here.
The second post, I was and am still digesting what I was writing about. A piece can rarely be polished, if we are still living it. It is hard to fly up in perspective.
Neither are wrong, both pieces are needed.
You do want to know what you are doing though. I knew when I sent out the second post, it was more like a journal peek; I thought it might reach a reader that it would resonate with, or illuminate one of my not so secret missions to get more people to listen to life’s lead (which is why I shared the post script with the audio clips at the end. If you read it, was it effective? Or were you like — okay, Kate. I get it. You are in the midst.) I’d love to know.
I see this a lot when people are refining their writing ideas. They think they are writing for the reader, but they are still writing for themselves.
☕️ Let’s pause and let me explain.
I write for myself every day. Mostly, we’ll call that journaling. I have a notebook that I write in every day. It is in three sections. The first section is my mental blabbering, journaling, envisioning. The second section, is formidable ideas mapped out or content creation. The third section is left blank until I know what it is for and that varies with every notebook. That’s my system. That way I am not looking for 3 notebooks.
The flaw in my system is that they are hard for me to get rid of. My compromise is that when the notebook is done, I now strip all the unnecessary commentary out and throw it to the fire. Swaha! It’s gone. That chatter can be transmuted. If I have good ideas, they are built, or blogged, or expanded to larger formats.
Do you journal? Do you throw them out?
Back to writing for others. When you write for others, you notice the arc of what you are sharing and you are careful to close your piece in. You create a mapped journey for the reader to land.
You don’t pull up to a friend’s house (your reader), wait for them to get into the car, close the door, reverse and drive to your lunch spot mindfully and in great detail — only to push them out of a moving car because you don’t feel like talking anymore. I know you don’t, so make sure your reader gets a meal too. Take them to that local bistro experience you promised. Share a sweet and cohesive meal, and let them savor it. Pay the bill, tell them to enjoy the table and you’ll see them next time.
“Writing teaches us awareness. It teaches us to pay attention, to savor the moment. It’s like that great Henry James line — a writer is someone on whom nothing is lost. Writing teaches you to take yourself seriously and to take life seriously. Scribble down whatever blows your mind. Whether you went to India or whether you were in the express line at Safeway, this thing got your attention so you scribble it down. Then you read other people who are doing the same kind of stuff and you think ‘Yeah, that’s what I’m going for.’” - Anne Lamont
All writing is good writing if it’s writing you are inspired to write.
You can reread that; while I order another unsweetened tea.
You just want to love what you are writing and feel moved to share it because that inspiration means there is someone who needs to read it.
I am proud to say, I am uninterested, and always have been, in spitting out content for content’s sake. Now, that said, I would like to be more consistent, but it’s a both and. I had this realization recently (and it is echoed in Anne Lamont’s words) is that many writers start by wanting to be heard, then somewhere on the path they want to create something worth listening to. Because when you read, you read the words the author has echoed out into form for you.
So, my suggestion, if you needed one is — write. Journal and write. Write for yourself and write for others.
This also ends up applying to everything else in life.
Here’s an example, I wanted to sit down and write this to you lovely beings and as a mother I cook, a lot, by choice. That said, it’s a lot and it’s not always the way I want it made because I need everyone to eat. Fast forward I was going to rush my lunch, but I didn’t. In fact, I took a long time and made a delicious sandwich, with a salad, plus chips, and a pickle (my son loves pickles currently) and I sat down to enjoy the first day of Spring, sipping my homemade pineapple hibiscus tea.
Yes, it is late April but our weather has been ridiculous, so I sat there looking out the window and drinking in the beauty of the rosebud and the maple trees and well, it was marvelous and luxurious. I realized long lunches can be my new love-up.
It was marvelous because:
Instead of only buying intentional food for others, I showed my own self I deserved the care
I was fixing to sit down and e-mail some of my mentorship clients and we must walk the talk, so I took care of myself before I asked them how they were.
This is the biggest one, I had a conversation with a Rosebud tree yesterday (the one next to the creek I mention in the Write the Year April post) and I decided to listen and to slow down. I got a chance to prove the pivot today, to you and to me.
Athletes have to practice their pitches, but they also need to stretch. Artists need to learn their brushes, but they also need to sit by a blooming tulip for tips. You deserve rough drafts without pressure and polished pieces that you love, knowing they are out in the world for others, whispering quietly that there is much to enjoy here, including these words before you.
Keep going,
Kate
Every so often a really glorious creative project comes along that I can help with. I have space to work with two people this summer. Are you one of them?
I am offering 4 -12 week creative coaching packages. I create a container to help you move from confused to inspired, whether it is for a book, a life decision, or spiritual inquiry. We weave these things together to create consciously.
You can schedule a 15 minute chat and see if we are the right fit ✨