Welcome to my newsletter! With True Story Newsletter, I’m hoping to address the many shared moments in nonfiction writers’ lives. Some of these will also ring true for novelists, poets, or anyone who writes anything, for any reason, professional or not.
I’m kicking off the newsletter by discussing an experience most of us who write wish we didn’t have to confront – getting going after a long stretch of not being able to write.
Two years ago, after my long-term relationship ended in Arizona and I moved to Virginia to enter a new relationship, my well of ideas for creating speculative writing pieces seemed to dry up. I should clarify that I didn’t stop writing entirely – my day job involves writing web pages and plenty of them. I was also churning out posts for a monthly freelance blogging assignment. Those projects were going well and felt satisfying to complete. But as far as sending out queries or brainstorming or contacting editors about story ideas, much less writing anything related to an idea I generated … nothing.
It’s not uncommon for major life upheavals to halt creative momentum. Adjusting to these situations takes time. In my case, for the first year after my major life changes, I wrote NOTHING outside of work or already-in-progress freelance assignments. I bought a composition notebook with the idea I would start writing again by journaling or keeping a diary. I put the notebook - purchased for 50 cents at an antique mall - in the top drawer of my bedside table … where it still sits, completely blank.
In the middle of 2019, I discovered the concept of Bullet Journaling, which blends elements of planning and goal setting to help journalers achieve whatever aspirations mean the most to them. I enjoyed the method’s emphasis on rapid logging, which breaks down notes and thoughts about the day into bite-size one- or two-line entries. I quickly graduated from a plain card-stock notebook to a larger hardbound dot-grid journal. As 2019 rolled into 2020, I gave myself an official Bullet Journal as a birthday present.
Using a Bullet Journal (BuJo) got me back to (literally) putting pen to paper, but I still wasn’t writing anything I didn’t “have to.” Finally, in early July of this year, I did a narrative entry in my BuJo and tried to figure out what I needed to do to start writing again.
The entry helped me realize that 2020’s “special stressors” (helllooo, COVID-19 and election year chaos) were impacting whatever bandwidth I might have available to write. But I also identified a list of about a dozen ways I could take better care of myself so that writing my own independent projects was possible.
One of those ideas was to start a daily writing practice - literally, making sure I wrote something just for me, every day. In the beginning, I wasn’t exactly sure what I had in mind with this practice, but I did know from five years of consistent mindfulness meditation practice that the only “bad” or unsuccessful meditation was the one I didn’t do. I was hoping that sort of phenomenon would apply to my daily writing. So far - about two months in - it’s held true.
My daily writing entries are not great literature. “Glorified braindumps” is a more accurate descriptor of what comes out. I ride along on my stream of consciousness, discussing the day’s events, my future writing aspirations, and whatever else comes to mind. But the daily writing means I AM writing again, outside of my work-based obligations to write.
I’m also making time for brainstorming, too. I had previously felt guilt about my obsession with brainstorming because I had a track record of cranking out page after page of potential ideas, but rarely bringing any to fruition. The compromise I reached with myself was that I am free to use my writing practice time one day a week to brainstorm on writing - or creativity-related projects. When my daily writing notebook gets full (which is taking about a month), I harvest the most intriguing ideas and document them in my BuJo (which is designed to last for at least a year). As time goes on, I’ll keep harvesting the “best of the best” brainstorm ideas, and start tracking which ones get acted on and which ones don’t.
All of this has started, very slowly, to make me feel writerly again. This two-year odyssey of my functional writer’s block and eventual unblocking have taught me several useful lessons.
Take all the time you need to recover from trauma or upheaval. Survival comes before writing productivity. (Also - therapy can be very helpful.)
Be good to yourself. Focus on creating a safe, non-pressure-filled place to think, dream, and express yourself.
Find a place to regularly empty out your brain. If daily writing (either an approach like mine or the ever-popular morning pages practice developed by Julia Cameron) isn’t working, try a different media, such as keeping an audio diary, or doing some intuitive painting or drawing.
Use your downtime to cross-pollinate your creativity. Read books and magazines outside of your comfort zone or area of skill. Use that omnipresent smartphone to take a photo a day. Learn a new musical instrument, or a new language. Hike a trail near your house that you’ve never explored. Once the writing floodgates open, you’ll likely have plenty of potential story ideas flowing from these new experiences.
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That’s all for this time. If you want to chat with me about what’s helped you get through a “stuck” period in your writing, you can hit “reply” to this email and I’ll get a direct email. I’ll also start a discussion thread so that we can discuss this topic as a list.
Until the next newsletter, I wish you long, productive end-of-summer days and pleasant nights!