Levitating, Meditating, Flute-playing Gnu (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Write down how you are going to fill your creative well this week. Include one field trip; trip to a museum, concert, movie, pumpkin patch, etc. After your “well time,” free write about the experience.

This week, I plan on taking at least one yoga class. That always helps me fill my creative well. I’ll have to get off my butt and head over to Moksha, where I will be able to meditate.

Actually a bunch of people I know are starting a meditation thingy tomorrow. Meditating every day for 30 days or so? I think I should do that. I get a lot of great ideas when I’m supposed to be emptying my mind. It’s crazy.

I find that I write the best when I’m not supposed to be writing. Or when I’m not supposed to be thinking about writing. Or thinking about anything.

I swear. I am the world’s worst meditator. I took a chakra workshop last year with Tias Little. I LOVE Tias Little. He’s amazing. I just felt good being around him. Anyway, I swear, one morning we did a long meditation. I remember something about a staircase and that is it. Or maybe a gate. Or maybe an elephant. At any rate, later, he mentioned something about that meditation later in the class and I was thinking “Um yeah. No clue what you’re talking about.” I’D FALLEN ASLEEP.

I fall asleep during meditation ALL THE TIME. If I’m not daydreaming about my story characters, that is. Or fretting about what I need to do later that day. Or TRYING to concentrate on my breath… but my mind just wanders all the time. It’s like I’m in a constant daydream.

I also have plans to have dinner this week with another writer. She’s much farther on the path than I am. She’s been published in a popular online yoga blog, and she writes her own blog. She’s also been published in yoga journal. She’s on the path of her dharma and it’s amazing to see.

I’m still struggling to find my dharma. I’m the type of person who is OK at a bunch of things but not amazing at one special thing. So, I’m an OK writer, but I choke under pressure. I have fun being an extra on movie sets, but the thought of auditioning for a real role terrifies me. So does teaching yoga to a class or even to one or two people.

But I think about writing, and I get all excited inside. I think about my characters all the time. Sometimes I even think of things to do with them… but sitting in front of blank page. It’s like… yeah. I know I’m not alone. I know I need to work through it.

I think a trip to a library or book store would also be good. Something about being around all those books fires me up. I can’t wait to get home and write. Of course, once I’m home, I’m like “la la la tumblr!” So… I think I need to start taking my computer or notebook with me to a bookstore. And going ON MY OWN so that people I’m with don’t start wanting to go as soon as I get there…. or start looking over my shoulder asking what I’m doing. Because I hate that. I HATE talking about any projects I’m working on with people because the magic then fizzles away.

I used to be one of those people who posted word count meters every few days, and who loved sharing my progress. I don’t do that anymore. I just can’t. It takes away my inspiration and makes my work no longer special.

Wherever I go, I’ll have to bring my notebook with me. It goes with me everywhere I go, because I never know when a good idea will pop up.

That’s not true. The good ideas usually pop up when I’m in the shower or in the car. My husband actually keeps a notepad on his dashboard. Which I’m not OK with, seeing as he is distracted enough when he’s driving…..

Meditation + Inspiration + Creation

Indulge in your worst writing nightmare, the biggest fears that interfere with your work. Write it all down, all of the bad things that you fear could happen to you if you write your story. Then set the piece of paper on fire, dump the ashes into the toilet and flush.

OK OK. I am going to FIGURATIVELY set paper on fire because I have a fear of fire and so I won’t be playing with setting THINGS (other than incense sticks, candles, or sage) on fire OK?

So, here are all the bad things that I feel could happen to me if I write my story.

Huh, as I start to write this, I am realizing that a lot of things I feared have already come to play. I’ve been rejected by agents. I’ve had a manuscript shopped and rejected by every publisher in New York. I wrote another novel, only to have that one rejected by my agent. I’ve had novels workshopped and shit on in front of entire rooms of people.

And I survived.

So, let’s go beyond that. What if I finally get published, and the work doesn’t even get picked up by bookstores? It just languishes in the back rooms of warehouses? It doesn’t go beyond a first printing.

What if I get published, it becomes a NYT Best-seller, and then it gets totally shit on by reviewers?

What if I get published, it becomes a NYT Best-seller, and then it gets totally shit on by everyone?

What if I get published, and I get mega famous, like Stephenie Meyer famous, and my book becomes something to be ridiculed, something that people have to be ashamed that they like?

What if I get published, and I get wildly successful, like JK Rowling successful, and I can’t handle it?

Yeah, I know I am thinking REALLY BIG here. I mean, pipe dream big. And look at the fears. They’re dumb. Why should I care if I’m getting shit on by reviewers–not everyone is going to like my work. And that’s something I have to keep pounding into my head. If my story moves one person, ONE PERSON, that should be enough right? Because I can’t lie and say I’m writing just for myself. Because I’m not. I’m writing because I want people to enjoy and love my stories.

I really worry that I just don’t have it anymore. But then I’ll re-read a blog entry or something and think “Wow, that’s really nice. Maybe I *am* still a writer.”

My fears are all over the place.

But I think my main fear is “What if this is all a waste of time?”

Because that’s what writing is. It’s a gamble. It’s a gamble every single step of the way, and if I’m not doing it simply because I love it and because I have stories that need to be told? Then I’m not a real writer.

If I’m doing it because I hope to be the next blockbuster millionaire? I’m not a real writer.

I have to get back into loving writing for the sake of writing, and if publication and beyond is part of that path, then embrace it! It’ll be a bonus, right?

I’m still trying to find my dharma, and seeing if writing is part of it. It is something that keeps coming up in my life so I think it might be. Now I just need to figure out the means to get there.