Heather Demetrios's Blog, page 5
November 13, 2017
A Favor...Pretty Please (with a cherry on top)
Apparently, it's super helpful to have a lot of reviews on your Amazon page (I know, silly author not knowing this already), which is why I'm bugging you about it in the first place. I so appreciate all the kind words those of you who have posted on Goodreads and elsewhere have said - thank you for taking the time to read the book and start conversations around teen dating violence, your own bad romances, and all manner of heartbreak. If you haven't posted a review on Goodreads, but…
November 10, 2017
Mindful NaNoWriMo Part II: Mindfulness
It’s Week 2 of NaNoWriMo! I hope you’ve found a way to incorporate a little meditation– or at least some deep breaths–into your 50K writing run. If you missed Part I of this series, you can head over here. It talks a bit about meditation and using this ancient, healing practice to induce creative flow and a bit of sanity into the crazy that is NaNoWriMo.
Today I’m riffing on mindfulness and how this can help you as a writer–just as it’s helped me. To clarify, meditation is a mindfulness practice, but there are other elements to mindfulness, as well. Being mindful in your daily life is made easier by meditation, and meditation repays you in more mindfulness–they are intrinsically linked. Here’s all you really need to know about mindfulness:
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That’s all. Be. Here. Now. Not in the future, not in the past, but right where you are, whether here is your laptop, the DMV, or Fifth Avenue. By being present, we live fully in the moment, experiencing the richness of our surroundings, tuning into what’s happening both within and without. This presence allows us to have a greater understanding about what’s going on with our own thoughts and emotions, and it makes it easier to connect to others because we’re all in, not distracted by stress or our phones or whether or not this book we’re writing will sell.
It’s not hard to see how being more aware, awake, and observant can help you as a writer. The gift of paying attention pays dividends on the page with richer description, on point emotion, as well as greater subtlety and articulation. Why? Because you are more in tune with what’s going on in any given moment: what’s plain to see and what’s under the surface. You may find that you also have more curiosity about out world and our place in it, and that, my friends, is what writing’s all about.
So what would incorporating a mindfulness practice into your day as you go through NaNo look like? Below, I offer a few suggestions to dip your toes in these crystal clear waters.
Walks
Take a quick writing break to clear your head and reenergize yourself. Don’t bring anyone else with you (pets allowed, but it’s better without so you’re not distracted). While on the walk, just be there. Don’t have your cell with you: no music or podcasts. Just you and this block. All you need to do is be present–a very hard thing to do, but one that gets easier the more you practice. Note what you’re seeing and feeling. Perhaps it’s the way the sunlight bleeds across a pile of autumn leaves. Or it’s the jarring sound of construction. Or the scent of smoke from someone’s fireplace. Allow the five senses to do their thing. When you notice that you’re in your head, thinking about your book or what you’re going to make for dinner, just gently bring yourself back to the present. Be. Here. Now. If you dig this, check out my post on walking meditation.
Mindful Snacking
Another way to sneak some mindfulness into your busy NaNo schedule is to take a couple minutes to mindfully eat your snack or meal. So, instead of eating while writing, give yourself at least five minutes to do nothing but experience your food. Let’s say you’re going for your favorite writing snack: a nice big piece of dark chocolate. Be totally focused on the chocolate as you open it. Note the packaging, and the color and texture of the chocolate. Think about where it came from, the people that had to work to make this deliciousness for you. When you pick it up, note its weight and texture, and then take a nice long sniff. When you finally eat it, go slowly and really savor the experience: the taste, the feel, all the gradations within that one piece of chocolate. If thoughts arise that are not related to the chocolate, just gently note them and go back to your snack. I wouldn’t be surprised if the next time you write about a character eating something, your description will be richer for having done this particular mindfulness practice.
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Mindful Tech
Nothing will help your writing as much as not allowing tech or the Internet to fuck with your word time. Writing mindfully means that when you’re writing, you’re writing. You’re not on the phone and checking Facebook and glancing at your FitBit app. You’re not fallowing down the rabbit hole of research. You’re writing. That’s it. This is a HUGE game changer, people. You will absolutely be more focused, more in flow, more efficient. Show up for your writing and it will show up for you. For more on mindful tech use, you can check out the social media section of my blog on comparison, or this fab site on mindful tech run by my friend, Liza.
There’s a gazillion other things I want to say about mindfulness and ways to be more mindful on and off the laptop, but I’ll leave it at those three for now and check back in next week. Feel free to leave comments or questions. What mindfulness practices work for you? Or, if you tried any of the above, what was that experience like?
Breathe. Write. Repeat.
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As usual, you can sign up for my newsletter for exclusive posts on the writing life, meditation and mindfulness for creatives, and more. If you’re a lady writer, please join us on the Pneuma Facebook Group for daily inspiration, motivation, and community. If you’re interested in working with me as a writing coach, don’t be shy: email me and I’ll get back to you ASAP. You can also check out the Pneuma Creative site for coaching, editorial, and class info. Happy writing!
November 1, 2017
Have Yourself A Mindful NaNoWriMo Part One
If you’re embarking on the NaNoWriMo adventure this year and are slightly (okay, REALLY) worried about how you’re going to manage 50K words in a month, I have something that might just take the edge off. Instead of barreling through the month surviving on nothing but coffee, chocolate, and the will to survive, you could do something totally insane and counter-intuitive: slow down. Many of us come from cultures of all-nighters and increasing caffeine intake when the heat is on, but these things only serve to fray our edges even more. In today’s high-stress world, there’s a reason why contemplative practices like mindfulness and meditation are finding a foothold. We’re exhausted and over-scheduled and over-stimulated enough as it is—now try multiplying that by a thousand when you set out to write a novel in one month (or a good chunk of one, anyway). Taking a little bit of time each day to sit and breathe—and do nothing else—might seem like a luxury you can’t afford when you’re trying to write thousands of words each day at the beginning of the holiday season, but studies have shown again and again that meditation is a game changer when it comes to performance. Think increased memory and sharper focus, not to mention all those practitioners who report less depression and more immunity.
And we have good reason to believe that it’s also a boost to your creative juices, since what happens in your brain during meditation mimics the brain when it’s in creative flow with the deactivation of the prefrontal cortex, the part of your brain that hosts your sense of self. In layman’s terms, that feeling of being totally absorbed, lost in your story, forgetting all about yourself and surroundings—this happens when you meditate, too. It stands to reason, then, that meditation not only primes the brain for creativity, it actually gives writers a way to train for flow. Do I have your attention now?
As a professional author who’s had her fair share of creative blocks and frustrating writing sessions while under deadline, I’m always on the hunt for strategies to get un-blocked, in flow, and inspired. After a particularly difficult creative period, I finally gave in and tried meditation. One guided session later, I was hooked. So hooked that I’m getting certified to teach it to my fellow writers. In addition to the slew of benefits you’ve probably read about in a dozen articles, such as decreased stress and deeper connection to others, I’ve found that meditating before I write makes my sessions at the laptop way more productive—I’m talking thousands of words as opposed to hundreds. I come to the page with a clarity I didn’t have before I sat on the cushion that day, and any anxiety I had going into the day’s work is, if not absent, is greatly diminished. I’m able to write with more focus, coming much more quickly to that elusive state of absorption we long for. That’s not to say that there aren’t moments of frustration or existential angst when I’m writing, but it does mean that I’ve got a better shot at writing words I’m actually going to keep. It’s easier to make connections between ideas, to see the places where the stars align in my story. I have less moments where I stare at the screen with nothing but four-letter words in my head and I call that a win.
After one week-long meditation retreat, a story I’d given up on two years before suddenly came to me once more—this time making sense. There are loads of other benefits, as well: the decrease in my stress allows me to be more accepting of the uncertainty in the artist’s life, more patient with my stories, and gentler with myself. My inner critic and fears over whether or not my current project is going to work no longer rules the roost. The bottom line: when I have more flow and worries over my work and myself as a writer don’t take center stage, then it’s easier to write my books. I suspect that if you were to integrate some meditation into each day of NaNoWriMo, you’ll have less stress, more flow, and enjoy the process more. Writing is hard any time of the year (or, at least, our inner critics make it hard), but NaNo is a whole other ballgame. To write the amount of words you need to in order to successfully complete the NaNo journey, you need to bring your A-game. So how do incorporate meditation into your writing process without it turning into just one more thing to do that keeps you from actually writing?
Start slow. Meditate for five minutes each day for the first week. Don’t dive right into twenty-minute sessions. Grab a free meditation app like Headspace to help you get started—you’re much more likely to develop a practice if you get help from a knowledgeable teacher who can guide you through the process. Do five minutes, even if you want to do more. Consistency is key here. The more you meditate, the more likely it’ll become a habit.
Try to meditate before you write. This gives you a chance to recalibrate and get into the zone. You don’t need a cushion unless you want one. A simple chair will do. Sit with your feet flat on the floor and don’t lean back in the chair. You’re going for a dignified, elegant posture—upright, but not uptight. Palms on your thighs. Breathe. Eyes closed, or open with a soft gaze looking about four feet in front of you. By the way, you look fantastic, you’re totally rocking the Buddha pose.
Don’t worry if your mind is racing—the point of meditation is not to eliminate thoughts, it’s to understand how our minds work, to observe what’s going on in there. You will have lots and lots of thoughts. Even the masters do. The brain’s job is to think. All you need to do is watch it. Let the thoughts be like clouds passing in the sky. You acknowledge them, and then they go by.
Don’t stop meditating when you get a good idea. Just don’t. If the idea’s worth keeping, it’ll come back. Promise.
Keep track of how meditation is affecting your writing and your life. Note your stress, flow, sleep, headaches—anything you want. Then watch the magic happen. Journaling through these early days is great, but if the idea of adding one more thing to your plate is too much, then just do your level best.
Next week I’ll post about how the practice of mindfulness is different than meditation, and give you some tips on how to rock your NaNo mindfully. Until then, good luck! May the words flow, the thoughts roll by, and the magic happen.
Breathe. Write. Repeat.
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As usual, you can sign up for my newsletter for exclusive posts on the writing life, meditation and mindfulness for creatives, and more. If you’re a lady writer, please join us on the Pneuma Facebook Group for daily inspiration, motivation, and community. If you’re interested in working with me as a writing coach, don’t be shy: email me and I’ll get back to you ASAP. You can also check out the Pneuma Creative site for coaching, editorial, and class info. Happy writing!
October 31, 2017
The Real Reason You Don’t Meditate
The only way you’ll be able to see for yourself if meditation helps you as a writer is by, you know, meditating. Problem is, it can be really hard to get your ass on the cushion when approximately ten thousand other things are demanding your attention. You’re busier than ever before, right? Time flies, you think. If only I had more hours in the day. Seriously, why aren’t there more hours in the day? And you’re like, barely able to scarf down lunch while checking email and by the end of the day you’re basically an extra for The Walking Dead. So how in all that is good and holy are you supposed to add one more thing to your plate? Especially something that by definition does not allow you to multitask. So inefficient. Right?
Wrong.
Look, I’m no neuroscientist, but the fact is that meditation makes you better at life. It actually changes your brain. In scans that compare meditators’ brains to non-meditators’ brains, there are significant shifts in all kinds of areas, such as the part of your brain that retains memory better, or allows you to have increased focus and creative flow. Nice, right? And get this: those benefits begin after only a few weeks of consistent meditation. And not like, mountaintop I’m A Buddha Now meditation, but the kind you can put in your calendar in between a stressful meeting and picking your kid up from school. It’s super portable and doesn’t require you to look good in sexy, overpriced yoga leggings. It’s free, if you want it to be. You can’t get hurt doing it unless you’re a total dumbass, and you’re not a total dumbass, are you? Wait, don’t answer that.
And here’s something else: you can absolutely meditate. Even if you’ve tried several times and failed. Even if the only people you know who do it are totally chill (dude, did you ever think about why they’re totally chill?!). Trust me, you’re reading the words of the most neurotic, driven Type A person I know and I live in New York City. If I can sit down and meditate every day, I know you can, too. But if you want to continue being stressed to the max and creatively depleted and irritable, depressed, and exhausted then by all means avoid meditation at all costs. You do you.
Fact: for most beginning meditators, meditation is dead boring—especially if you don’t begin in a meditation studio or on a retreat in, say, Bali, with fancy cushions and teachers who speak in low, taming tones. I get it how suuuuuuuuuper boring it can be at first, I get it so hard. I have one of those minds that goes a million miles per hour, hopping from my To Do list to the books I’m writing to rehashing past events or imagining future ones. My mind also catalogues my faults, judges everything I and others say or do, berates me for not concentrating while I’m supposed to be meditating, and randomly begins wondering if it’s actually true that Wills and Kate are having twins (!!!!!)…But, as meditation goddess Pema Chödrön says, we don’t meditate to get good at meditation—we meditate so that we can be more awake in our lives. Think of meditation as spinach for your soul when you really want a burger. Eat enough spinach and those burgers just aren’t as appetizing. Or they are, but you feel like crap after eating one in a not worth it kind of way.
Sadly, these are the reasons why you’re not going to meditate, even if you have an epiphany about meditation and decide this is your moment:
You’re lazy af. Netflix is calling you, oh that siren song of zone-outs.
You can’t get comfortable, your back hurts and your neck and your shoulders and this is dumb, sitting on a cushion. Maybe you’ll just lie down…whoops, didn’t intend to nap there.
When you look at your schedule, you want to cry because in order to meditate you have to get up earlier than the ass-crack of dawn and, like, WHO WANTS TO EXPERIENCE THE ASS-CRACK OF DAWN?
The thought of being away from your phone—from actually putting it on airplane mode without the FAA telling you to—is just too much. You have co-dependency issues.
Okay, for real, though, this is so BORING. And you’re a grown-ass woman. Or man. A grown-ass self-identified genderless badass and just like no one puts Baby in the corner, no one tells you to sit on a cushion and breathe goddamit. No one.
But I’m going to tell you the real reason you won’t meditate. Ready?
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No, but are you sure you’re ready?
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I’m telling you, this is going to get deep. There’s no going away from this…You better be sure…
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Okay, fine, I warned you.
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You’re not going to meditate because the meditation cushion is the only place in your entire life where you don’t get to hustle for your worth.
BOOM. Mic drop. Heather out.
No, but seriously, do you know what I mean? Brené Brown, Queen of all things Vulnerability in the psych world, uses this phrase a lot: hustling for our worth. What she means is that, day in and day out, so much of what we do is driven by our desire to be seen, validated, loved, appreciated, and praised. Fellow neurotics of the world, you know what I’m talking about: we want the mother-effing Gold Star and we will do just about anything to get it.
But, here’s the thing:
There is no gold star in meditation. If there were, we’d all have it, anyway.
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Everything you need is already in you, and that includes your inherent worth as a human being.
You can’t win at meditation. You can only just be. When you’re sitting in meditation, the goal is not to shut down your thoughts—it’s to get familiar with them. And getting familiar means getting uncomfortable. We see how our minds work. How much our focus is on the things we want to achieve, the ways we don’t measure up, the people we want to please or screw or be. Our brains are chock-full of movie reels that play our regrets and shames, our fantasies, our hopes and dreams. It’s terrifying to see how much we live in the future, to realize just how much the past runs us, and to bear witness to how freaking fragile we are at the end of the day.
And here’s the kicker: on the cushion, we don’t get to pretend all that stuff isn’t there. We don’t get to distract with a witty, self-deprecating comment or by posting a perfectly set-up photo with an ironic caption we’ve spent days reworking. We don’t get to do more, be better, go harder. We. Don’t. Get. To. Hustle.
I live in the Mecca of Hustle. Walking down the street in New York City means being an extra in the lives of everyone around you who is living the dream or will die trying, each of them working an angle. Hell, I’m working an angle right now. Let’s be real. The more you dig this post, the more likely you are to share it, the more attention it gets…you know the drill. But you’re working an angle, too, right? Like Bing says in White Christmas, “everybody got an angle” (and then Rosemary Clooney gets to be all “That’s a pretty cynical outlook” and Bing’s all Miss Hayes I want you but I can’t say that). What’s your angle? What’s your hustle look like? Are you a people pleaser, an iconoclastic renegade who’s all Fuck the Man (love me, love me)? Are you the person who stays until the job is done, even if it means breaking a promise to your kid? Or, you’re the one who thinks if you just get one more degree, get your work on one more Best Of list, just figure out the right hair cut…
You know how it is. I’m not telling you something you don’t know. That is the super fucked-up part. WE KNOW. All the self help books are NY Times bestsellers because you read them and I read them and we try to “lean in” and “hold space” and all that jazz but meanwhile we pop the pills and pour the drinks (but first, coffee) and get another fucking Help Me I’m Drowning and Adulting Is Hard app that’s supposed to make us calm but we’re not calm we’re not fucking calm because THIS SHIT IS HARD.
And then someone tells you that all you’re allowed to do is sit and be and breathe. That’s it. And you lose it. You lose your ever-loving mind. One minute if sitting on a cushion with nothing to do is many people’s version of hell–perhaps it’s yours too. But you keep sitting because there was half a second—just half a second—where that tightness in your chest loosened. And you were still bored af and spent thirty bucks on a meditation class to do your taxes in your head or take a nap, but that half second…damn. That was nice, wasn’t it?
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I’ll tell you why you will meditate:
You will meditate because after those first panicked moments on the cushion where you realize there is no escaping your mind, you suddenly realize it’s a travesty that you go through your days hardly breathing, going so fast so fast so fast.
You will meditate because each time you get up off the cushion, you feel a little lighter. Less angry. More equipped to handle what comes your way.
You will meditate because you’re finally connecting with people again–really listening, really present.
You will meditate because every now and then you suddenly begin remembering you’re alive, and isn’t it lovely, the way that shaft of light darts across the floor?
And you will meditate because, for the first time in a long time (maybe forever) you’re nice to yourself. Gentle, even.
Meditation is not a cure all. And it’s the hardest easy thing to do. But it’s changed my life and I suspect if you give it a go, it’ll change yours. It’s made me a better writer and a better human (hopelessly flawed in both areas, of course, but kind of okay with that). It’s made me more alive, more awake to the world and the possibilities nestled in each moment. Don’t get me wrong, I epically fail every day. I lose my cool and stress over inconsequential things and beat myself up and still describe myself as a misanthrope. But here’s the difference: I’m AWARE of all this. When I’m in an upset, I notice it. All that time on the cushion allows me to see what’s actually happening–that I’m eating that chocolate because I’m avoiding my writing, not because I just had a random craving. That my anger towards So-and-So is really me being frustrated with myself and lashing out. And when we notice these things, we have an opportunity. Maybe the moment has passed and we can’t undo that cutting comment or glass of wine, but the awareness allows us to perhaps shift things the next time. Or the time after that.
And all of this work on ourselves has the potential to show up in our writing. If sitting on the cushion increases your compassion, it stands to reason that you might be able to write better villains and characters with more shades of complexity. If sitting on the cushion increases our awareness of the world around us, I suspect your descriptions will be sharper, more nuanced. The possibilities, just like the blank pages we dream on, are endless.
Breathe. Write. Repeat.
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As usual, you can sign up for my newsletter for exclusive posts on the writing life, meditation and mindfulness for creatives, and more. If you’re a lady writer, please join us on the Pneuma Facebook Group for daily inspiration, motivation, and community. If you’re interested in working with me as a writing coach, don’t be shy: email me and I’ll get back to you ASAP. You can also check out the Pneuma Creative site for coaching, editorial, and class info. Happy writing!
October 15, 2017
Holding Your Seat
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A couple days ago I had an experience that happens all too often as a meditator (and writer who enjoys silence while ruminating) in NYC. I sit down on my cushion all ready to get my calm on when the jackhammers start right outside my window. Oh to live in Brooklyn in 2017 when everyone and their mother is gut renovating buildings or tearing them down to build overpriced condos. I’ve lived here for over four years and – I shit you not – there has been construction in close proximity to my building pretty much every single day. As a writer who works from home, I’ve had to make relative peace with this. I am now an expert in white noise sound mixing and, when that fails, I push in the earplugs. Sometimes I yell WHAT THE FUCK because, well, WTF?! Construction symphonies are an annoying soundtrack when you’re writing, to be sure, but they’re really REALLY crazy making when you’re trying to meditate. There’s a reason (most) monasteries are way up in the mountains, accessible only via dirt paths wide enough to let a yak through, and why writers fantasize about cottages at the end of the world to finish their novels in.
So here I am on my cushion and I have two choices: give up on sitting until much later or roll with it and hold my seat. Keep in mind that after sitting, I’ll have to start writing and, so, unless I’m going to pack up and go to a coffeehouse, there’s not a whole lot I can do to control this situation. If there’s one thing being a meditator has taught me, it’s learning to be in the present, to accept what is happening without allowing events to control my emotions or hijack what little chill I have. When we’re on the cushion, we practice this in various ways: instead of railing against my neighbor’s loud music or the jackhammers or the roar of loud trucks going up 20th, I try to just acknowledge what’s happening and return to focusing on my breath. If I feel annoyed, I sit with that feeling. I let the emotion be there, locating where it rests in my body (usually my chest and throat) and just ride it out–instead of letting the emotion ride me. In meditation, we call this “holding our seat.” It means that we don’t throw in the towel if a meditation session is uncomfortable. We stay even if the jackhammers start or we have an uncontrollable itch between our shoulder blades or we’re suddenly experiencing strong emotion. We stay on the cushion. We stay in the present. We don’t bail.
On this particular day, I held my seat. I accepted the situation as it was and by the time the gong rang on my meditation timer, it was all good. Sure, it would have been nice if the only sound was a bubbling brook and bees buzzing in warm sunshine, but I bet even then I would have found * something * to take issue with. And there’s this, too: we don’t judge our meditation sessions. If our minds were racing the whole time, okay. If we experienced enlightenment, okay. As it was, I opened my eyes more relaxed, centered, and grounded than when I sat on the cushion thirty minutes before, and I call that a win. I stood, stretched, then sat at my desk, opened Scrivener, and started writing from that place of relative balance. The jackhammers eventually stopped, but I didn’t. I wrote for hours.
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Before I started meditating, I would have let my anger and frustration over that noise build. I would have abandoned my plans for meditation and gone into a whole inner rant about fuck this city and why can’t these rich assholes stop building condos and it’s impossible to live here as an artist, I can’t handle this noise and my apartment is too small and now I’ll never write another book and so I won’t be able to pay rent and I’ll be evicted…and…and…The incident might have ruined my whole day and certainly would have made it damn near impossible to focus on my book once I sat down to write. I would have worked myself into an emotional tizzy, allowing one jackhammer to instigate an existential crisis. But because I’m committed to my practice and because meditation is training for life, I was able to simply see those jackhammers as part of the landscape of Now. And, like it or not, I was in that landscape, too.
As so often happens, what I experience on the cushion has a ripple effect in my writing life. I’m working on a couple of books right now, both of which I love and both of which are complicated for very different reasons. In those moments when I’m staring at the screen and feeling that familiar tension and frustration arise (why can’t I figure this character / plot out?!), I have my training on the cushion to fall back on. I allow myself to feel that inner turmoil, locating it in my body and accepting it as part of the landscape. I don’t let it run me or turn into the spark for a wildfire of shame, anger, fear, comparison and the million other frustrations that can happen when we’re sitting in front of our screens. Just like when the jackhammers started when I was on the cushion, I accept what’s happening now–and what’s happening now is I have no idea what to write next. But because of my training on the cushion, I know that this snag is temporary because everything is impermanent: the good and the bad. I know this frustration won’t last because nothing lasts. I know, as when I sat on the cushion, that if I hold my seat and accept what’s happening, I will be the better for it.
And so will my writing.
Breathe. Write. Repeat.
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As usual, you can sign up for my newsletter for exclusive posts on the writing life, meditation and mindfulness for creatives, and more. If you’re a lady writer, please join us on the Pneuma Facebook Group for daily inspiration, motivation, and community. If you’re interested in working with me as a writing coach, don’t be shy: email me and I’ll get back to you ASAP. You can also check out the Pneuma Creative site for coaching, editorial, and class info. Happy writing!
October 5, 2017
Blame it on the R.A.I.N
You know how it usually goes when shit gets real in your life:
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You get a rejection from an editor or agent, or your critique group hates your new book, or you just lost a whole day’s work because your computer crashed. Most of us aren’t super chill folks who can go with the flow when these things happen. Most of us lose our ever-loving minds.
When I’m in an upset or overwhelm I enter beast mode: I’m suddenly 100% in a terrible mood, texting angry vents to my husband while he’s at work, and desperately in need of chocolate. Like, now. When it comes to the writer’s life, these unexpected moments come from anywhere and everywhere. Maybe I get an email with a ton of unexpected revisions, or I see I didn’t make whatever new list of Best Books Ever is out on Twitter. Maybe I just can’t for the life of me figure out a specific plot point in my work-in-progress or I’m frustrated that menial tasks ended up eating my writing time.
For years I just rode the waves of frustration, then beat myself up for being a jerk. Even though this never made the situation better and I knew it wasn’t healthy to be led by my emotions so much, I didn’t know how to stop freaking out. Last year I took a class on Zen for beginners and the teacher introduced us to the R.A.I.N process, which was coined around twenty years ago by Michele McDonald. It’s such an easy way to practice mindfulness, breaking down the process of what we experience so that we can get some relief and not be controlled by situations that arise.
I consider this the Stop, Drop, and Roll of mindfulness, an on-the-go emotions hack that takes you off the merry-go-round of anger, shame, hurt, and any other terrible thing you’re feeling.
Like so:
Recognize what’s going on
Allow the experience to be there, just as it is
Investigate what’s happening with gentleness
Non-identification
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So here’s R.A.I.N in action:
Stop
First, you Recognize what’s going on. Let’s use the example of a rejection from an agent or editor. You get the email:
Thank you for your submission. Unfortunately…
It sucks, right? It TOTALLY sucks. And mindfulness does not mean pretending it’s okay. You don’t have to shit rainbows. Instead of just letting the emotion have its way with you, go ahead and just take a moment to acknowledge what’s happening. It could be as simple as:
I’m angry. I’m really fucking angry.
If we don’t stop and experience this all in slo-mo, then what happens is we start to go down the shame spiral. Right? Suddenly you’re the worst writer in the world, you’re never going to make it, why do you even bother, oh my god now you have to tell everyone you’ve been rejected AGAIN…
None of that. Remember, this is the Stop Drop and Roll of mindfulness – recognizing is the Stop part.
Drop
Allow the experience to be, just as it is:
This is where you take a moment to just experience the emotion you’re feeling. For a long time, I didn’t understand how simply letting myself feel something was actually the biggest part of letting go of controlling emotions that arise. I thought I had to do something, but it’s really amazing how just sitting and feeling the full range of the emotion within me is action enough.
The easiest way to do this is to get into your body and out of your head. Where does the emotion sit inside you? I usually feel things in my chest or belly. Explore what this anger or stress or sadness feels like. Acknowledge it and don’t try to push it away, forget it, or cover it up with Netflix and wine.
So with our example, you would just sit with how shitty it feels to get rejected. Where does rejection land in your body? How does it feel?
Roll
When you’re ready, gently Investigate what this upset was all about. It’s important that you don’t fall into a story pattern (for example, the I’ll Never Be Successful story you tell yourself whenever you face a disappointment or the I’m Invisible in this Industry–my personal narrative).
Our feelings of unworthiness that often arise in these moments can often lead us to be an enemy to ourselves. We beat ourselves up, making it impossible to extend gentleness to the hurt parts of ourselves. Nothing productive happens when you’re mean to yourself. Not in the long run, anyway.
Meditation teacher Tara Brach describes this part of the process like this:
Here’s a story that helps to describe the process I went through. Imagine while walking in the woods you see a small dog sitting by a tree. You bend down to pet it and it suddenly lunges at you, teeth bared. Initially you might be frightened and angry. But then you notice one of its legs is caught in a trap, buried under some leaves. Immediately your mood shifts from anger to concern. You see that the dog’s aggression sprang from vulnerability and pain. This applies to all of us. When we behave in hurtful, reactive ways, it’s because we’re caught in some kind of painful trap. The more we investigate the source of our suffering, the more we cultivate a compassionate heart toward ourselves and others.
So let’s go back to our example. You got the rejection and felt terrible–anger and sadness vying for the most dominant emotions. You sat with it and found it lived in your chest. Now put your hand on your heart and gently inquire. Yes, you’re upset that you got rejected. But what’s deeper? Are you frightened this means you’re not good enough? Are you ashamed because every time you have to tell your spouse you got rejected, you worry they’ll beg you to quit?
It’s important, again, that this doesn’t devolve into a story. Just see why you’re feeling the way you are. When you’re clear on that, see if you can have compassion for yourself. Yes, you didn’t get the book deal or the contract with that agent. But you know that doesn’t mean you suck at life. It means this is a subjective industry and there are a thousand variables that go into why a book gets acquired or an agent chooses an author. I bet now that you’re sitting with your emotion and exploring it, you’re discovering a well of self-love you didn’t know was there. Drink deeply, if you can. (And if it’s hard, don’t worry: it’s hard for me too).
Now you’re ready for the final stage: Non-identification, or non-attachment to the event.
What this means is that you are not making this rejection part of your identity. You are not attaching it to your self-worth. Remember that line from Bridget Jone’s Diary? I like you–just as you are. (Swoon!) This rejection doesn’t define you. It’s a thing that happened and now you’ve processed it, and that’s that. This is where a regular mindfulness practice can really support your mental health as a writer. The more you practice R.A.I.N, the more energy you’re taking back for yourself and your creativity. It’s not all going toward your hustle for worthiness, as Brené Brown says. It’s going right into your fabulous book, poem, script, or soapbox blog post. It’s going where it belongs.
Shit happens. And, you know, at some point the sun comes out after the R.A.I.N.
Breathe. Write. Repeat.
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As usual, you can sign up for my newsletter for exclusive posts on the writing life, meditation and mindfulness for creatives, and more. If you’re a lady writer, please join us on the Pneuma Facebook Group for daily inspiration, motivation, and community. If you’re interested in working with me as a writing coach, don’t be shy: email me and I’ll get back to you ASAP. You can also check out the Pneuma Creative site for coaching, editorial, and class info. Happy writing!
September 27, 2017
Happy Birthday, Pneuma!
ENTER THE PNEUMA BIRTHDAY RAFFLE
A year ago today I started one of the craziest, most fulfilling adventures of my life when I began coaching writers. This came out of an incredible summer of soul searching and meditation, much needed after several years of a punishing publishing schedule. My good friend, Leslie, is the one who jumpstarted all this soul work during a glorious week at the Cape and my other dear friend, Erin, a coach in her own right, encouraged me to take the passion I had for helping writers in both their work and process to the next level. My husband, who randomly reads ancient Greek (long story), came up with the name after I described how I wanted to draw writers closer to their creative spirits: Pneuma Creative. I’d never heard the word before, but when he explained what it meant, I felt an instant surge of YES. So, really, Pneuma was a collaborative effort, where the people in my life helped me find the path I was being called to be on.
I had several wonderful writers who agreed to be my guinea pigs as I felt my way through what I would eventually come to call the Creative Season, the foundation of my coaching. They were marvelously game at trying things out, gave much-appreciated feedback, and showed up with vulnerability, desire, creativity, and will. Thank you so much Jasmine, Cammie, Frankie, Maria, Joe, and Sarah for being the best education a baby coach could ask for. Since those first sessions, I’ve taken on several more clients, each one bringing their own unique selves to each call, each worksheet, each exercise. It’s been amazing to watch them all blossom in their own ways, to get excited with them about the future, to help them let go of past artistic hurts, and to be deep in the present creative mess of it all. This is hard, hard work we do, but it has untold dividends for both my clients and I.
I’ve also had the opportunity to help writers develop their novels and edit manuscripts, which is always such a thrill. If I wasn’t a writer or coach, I would absolutely love to be an editor. What’s so great is that I can bring the holistic aspect of coaching to the editorial process, so it’s not just line notes and letters, but a real dialogue about the process of writing that particular book and how the writer can best support herself through that birthing.
Perhaps one of the best things to come out of this, though, is the Pneuma Facebook Group. With over 150 members, the group has become a second family to me, a small but mighty group of word warriors who share their joys, sorrows, questions, and process each day. It’s been fun searching for inspiring quotes of the day, doing the nightly writing roll call, and knowing that this solitary act of writing is actually something we can do in community. Thank you to all the lovely women who have become such a big part of my life. And, please, for all writers identifying as female: join us! We don’t bite, I promise.
As this year comes to a close, I’m excited by what groundwork has been laid and all that is to come. We’re having our first annual retreat at the end of October at Highlights in PA, which I’ll be co-leading with the ever fabulous Ingrid Sundberg. I can’t wait to talk craft, process, the writer’s life, and to lead daily meditation and workshops in a gorgeous autumn setting. Okay, I’m also really excited about WINE with my fellow lady writers.
I’m also thrilled to begin teaching online classes through Pneuma about craft, including one I’ve been dying to do for years on revision – my very favorite part of the writing process (I’m a masochist, you see). I’m also nearly finished with my certification for meditation teaching, and I’ll be offering retreats and workshops and one-on-one help with that, as well. This practice has become so central to who I am as a person and artist, that it’s now the main focus of my blog, which I’ve renamed Mindfulness for Writers. I can’t wait to get into all this great stuff I’ve been mulling over this past year, and throughout a lifetime of spiritual searching. If you’re curious, you can check out my recent post on how meditation supports creativity. You can also sign up for my twice-monthly newsletter with exclusive meditation and mindfulness tips for writers and riffs on the writer’s life and craft. (If you’re entering the raffle, do that first because it’ll ask you to join the email list).
If you’re interested in Pneuma, please check out the website or contact me. I take on very few clients, as I’m a full-time writer, but I’d be thrilled to start the conversation with you. In the meantime, make sure you enter the giveaway for a Passion Planner I’ve set up in celebration of Pneuma’s birthday to help get you the structure you need for your writing life. (Note: I don’t work for Passion Planner, I just really love it and find it to be a hugely valuable tool for my clients).
THANK YOU to everyone who has supported me on this journey and my amazing clients and Facebook groupies for being a constant source of inspiration. Here’s to many more years of making art!
September 26, 2017
The Blog Makeover
As some of you know, I’m in the process of becoming a certified meditation instructor (yay!) through MNDFL Meditation here in NYC. I’m having an absolute blast and intend to write a good, long post about it soon.
After some thought, I’ve decided that I want my blogging efforts to be focused on the intersection of writing / creativity & mindfulness / meditation. That doesn’t mean I won’t be posting about craft – it just means I’ll be looking at all things writing and the publishing life through a mindfulness lens. I’m pretty much doing that already, so it’s not actually a huge shift. I’ll still post updates about when I have new books out and fun stuff like that, but I mostly want this site to serve as a space for writers to be supported in their writing practice. If you want to keep updated on my books, I’ll always have a shout-out on my twice-monthly newsletter, and, of course, on my author website.
Don’t hesitate to contact me about anything related to books, writing, meditation–whatever! I’m always happy to answer questions and be of service when I can. You can also find out more about my coaching here.
I’m making tweaks to this site so that resources for meditation are more easily accessible. Stay tuned on that front.
Life is hard. Being a writer is really fucking hard. Meditation helps. Promise.
Breathe. Write. Repeat.
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Can Meditation and Mindfulness Help Your Creativity?
“Mindfulness means paying attention in a particular way: on purpose, in the present moment, and non-judgementally.” (Jon Kabat-Zinn)
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If you think about it for a second, it’s no surprise that the practices of meditation and mindfulness are growing in popularity. Life is going approximately ten thousand miles per hour, our tech is making us busier instead of freeing up time, and we’re losing touch with tangible experiences, which are too often traded for virtual ones. We are growing increasingly desperate to find pockets of time and space to take a freaking knee. To wit: you claw through the deluge from Hell that is your inbox while fielding texts from your spouse about dinner between reading the Times on an app while walking to your lunch break spin class while listening to a podcast…No wonder sitting down and doing nothing for ten minutes sounds like a slice of heaven. But because we’re Human 2.0, we have to turn an ancient spiritual practice into something that has measurable dividends backed by neuroscience and the latest issue of Psychology Today. Articles and blog posts abound about how meditation results in better sleep, better sex, better productivity, increased creativity, decreased depression and on and on. So you start thinking you’ll meditate not because it’s really good for you to just hang out with yourself and BE for a few minutes each day, but because it will make you even more efficient at juggling everything in your life–so you can add a few more things to your plate.
For artists, living in 2017 proves to be especially challenging. In order to do what we do we need everything the modern world doesn’t want to hand out: quiet, the ability to focus, a mind that can go on adventures instead of chanting the To Do list as though it were the names of God. But we’re Human 2.0 too and so, again, we only turn to the cushion because someone said something about how it helps you be more creative and being more creative means more book deals, more words each day, more productivity. And we’re back on the merry-go-round with all the other poor bastards that have bought into our modern obsession with doing it all.
In keeping with our bite-sized attention spans, I’ll tell you right here, right now:
The only way you’ll know if meditation can increase or enhance your creativity is if you try it out for yourself.
I know you want statistics and science and links and I was planning on laying all that out in a glorious, confident display of meditation know-it-allness, but then I realized that my motivation for doing so was to somehow convince you in the same way that someone convinces you to go Paleo, like it’s the answer to everything. And I am exhausted by everyone having the Answer, like if I go gluten-free or get 10K steps a day or have my chakras realigned then all the problems in my life will be fixed. And that’s just not so. Nothing is the Answer. Who the hell even knows what the Answer is? Still, some things move you closer to the good, juicy bits of life and some things move you further away. In my experience, meditation and mindfulness brings me closer to the deliciousness and that’s where the art is.
There are so many articles out there that will tell you meditation increases creativity, some more legit than others. Studies have been done, of course. Some are convincing and some are not. The only thing you can trust is your own lived experience. And if a lot of people are saying, Hey, this thing works for me and you feel a tug, a little quickening like, Hey, I’m curious and I think maybe this might work for me too, then honor the tug. Try it out. In her excellent introduction to meditation, Start Here Now (my number one recommendation for anyone curious and wanting to read a bit more), Buddhist author Susan Piver has a short chapter dedicated to the intersection of creativity and meditation. She cites the phenomenon that many, many artists and writers talk about: how when they’re walking or showering or driving or dreaming, they find unexpected inspiration. Piver suggest this:
When we stop striving–even to become more creative, relaxed, or intelligent–moments of clear seeing arise. Our meditation practice teaches this exact skill: to relax our minds while resting attention on the breath–without agenda…When we are able to let go of traditional agendas, our brilliance is unleashed. This is how creativity works. I don’t know why.
The act of being fully present, fully in your body, fully aware of yourself and the world around you somehow triggers the creative impulse. There is science to this: the same thing that happens in your brain when it’s meditating is very similar to what happens in your brain when it’s experiencing creative flow. And, no, I am not providing a link on purpose because then you’ll go down the rabbit hole of the Internet, likely unmindfully, and totally forget to go sit down and meditate for a few minutes. We all know how to use Google, so Google that shit if you want. Other posts I write will get deep into the neuroscience–promise.
Meditation is a way to train yourself in awareness, to learn to slow down, to really see things, to meet life with eyes wide open. The poet Mary Oliver says, Attention is the beginning of devotion. Read any of her poems and you can see mindfulness at work. Artists are observers of both the internal and external world, so it stands to reason that a practice that trains in that has a good chance of helping artists to improve that skill, which, it would also stand to reason, can only help their art. So that’s one reason to give meditation and mindfulness a try (meditation is the sitting and meditating part and mindfulness is bringing that awareness into your daily life).
Perhaps what I’ve found to be most helpful, though, is how meditating supports my mental health as an artist. When we’re on the cushion, we cultivate gentleness toward ourselves, moment by moment. When our mind wanders, we don’t beat ourselves up. We tenderly bring our minds back to the object of concentration (the breath, a mantra, sound, what-have-you) and begin again. As one of my favorite meditation teachers, Sharon Salzberg says:
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If that isn’t an important lesson for writers to know, I don’t know what is. I remind myself when a book is sucking really hard and I have massive revisions ahead of me. I remind myself this when one of my editors rejects a new manuscript I’ve submitted, or one of my book’s numbers are low. The act of sitting on the cushion is a daily training in accessing flow, self-compassion, and the ability to skillfully deal with whatever shit life throws your way.
I could write reams more on the subject – and I suppose I will – but for now, why don’t you go sit and see how that feels for you? Try an app like Headspace or Calm for guided meditations to get you started. See if there’s a meditation studio or organization in your town – it’s great to practice with the support of a group and knowledgeable teachers. Check out Susan Piver’s Start Here Now, which includes a very simple guide on the practice and how to start it. You can also check out the resources page on my coaching site.
Keep in mind:
Most importantly, know that you absolutely can meditate – you’ll just need to search for the style and tradition that works for you.
You don’t have to be Buddhist to meditate.
Start slow – five minutes a day for a month. Ten minutes a day the next month. And so on. Don’t get overzealous. Starting small and practicing every day is much more effective than meditating for longer periods only a couple times a week.
Be gentle with yourself.
Breathe. Write. Repeat.
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As usual, you can sign up for my newsletter for exclusive posts on the writing life, meditation and mindfulness for creatives, and more. If you’re a lady writer, please join us on the Pneuma Facebook Group for daily inspiration, motivation, and community. If you’re interested in working with me as a writing coach, don’t be shy: email me and I’ll get back to you ASAP. You can also check out the Pneuma Creative site for coaching, editorial, and class info. Happy writing!
September 25, 2017
Introducing...my blog for writers: Mindfulness for Writers
