Recipe for writing

This week I tidied my desk. The photo depicts the tidy version. Honestly.

“Is that an annual event?” asked my friend Bea.

“Of course,” I replied, “whether it needs it or not.”

It was a relief to discover that there was still a desk under the morass of paper, notebooks, sticky notes, manuscripts, tax office correspondence, business cards, paper clips, CDs, data sticks, receipts and unidentifiable wires and jack plugs scattered all over its surface. It is no wonder that my thinking has lacked focus. My desk has been a disaster zone.

The rather flimsy excuse for this state of affairs is that I’m spinning so many plates I haven’t got time to make sure my desk is clear as well! Such is my life as a freelance work-from-home Mum that I use my desk as a holding area for a whole host of stuff that I mean to get back to later after cooking dinner, or taking my daughter to her drama club, or hefting in the laundry. The reality is that often I’m so jaded by the time I sit down I just rest my elbows on top of the junk and gaze glassily at Facebook. The net result being that I don’t write. Which sometimes means I don’t get paid, and sometimes, more seriously, that I begin to question my capabilities.

Astoundingly however, having sifted through all the junk and ruthlessly chucked some of it and re-cycled other of it, I saw before me a desk space upon which there was nothing but a computer monitor, keyboard, phone, spiral bound pad and pencil. It was the most seductive thing I’ve seen in a long time. I could not wait to sit at it; I even leaped out of bed the morning after, as soon as the alarm went off, desperate to make sure that it hadn’t all been a crazy dream, or that the desk goblins hadn’t returned overnight to wreak havoc. Suddenly I felt energised and in control, ready to take on all my telephone interviews and tap out all my articles with super quick efficiency.

And what delighted me even more was that thousands of words appeared for my latest writing project. Liberated from the oppressive piles of paper and junk, they wormed their way up my unconstrained elbows, along my ergonomically well-supported forearms, through my fevered, fast-typing fingers, and onto the screen.

I’m gradually getting the message. Being in nature and having a tidy desk are two vital staples for me to get down to write and feel productive. I’m sure there are other ingredients for this particular cake. What are yours?

When journaling isn’t enough

It’s been a time – two weeks in fact – of scattered, unfocused thinking and desultory journaling. Even my brand new journal with song-birds on the front has left me uninspired – making me wonder whether their characteristic flitting and pecking has been part of my problem.

Realising I’d filled over 20 pages of my new notebook without acknowledging it and reintroducing myself, I tried the Dear Journal exercise. Predictably I got quite a ticking off from my inner guide. At one point she told me “It’s not generally my style to give you a bollocking but the amount of day-dreaming and unproductive moping you’ve been doing has got beyond a joke.” Ouch.

But still my writing felt like it had no meat. No juice. Plenty of whining but nothing insightful.

Avoiding sentences beginning with I didn’t work. My inner critic just taunted me instead with a sneering ‘we- know- what- you’re- doing’ remark.

With things still feeling knotted and tangled, distinctions were what I needed, to sift through all my commitments and tasks and to try and see the wood for the trees. But a list wasn’t going to cut it, there was too much going on. So I resorted to mind-mapping. Thank goodness. Shift began.

Exhausted last evening I could only manage to read a few pages of Steinbeck’s Of Mice and Men before sleep took over. But today, feeling refreshed, I took myself off for a walk in the beautiful town centre park near my home. I met a journaling friend and we shared some great ideas, then took a stroll to look at the trees, plants, flowers and wildlife. Gradually I felt clarity returning. My body began to smile again, and this evening, after a lovely dinner and a refreshing glass of wine, I’ve finally managed to return to this blog post, which is now in its fourth iteration after as many days. It’s a great relief to think that shortly I’ll be pressing the Publish button on it.

What I’ve learned from all this reinforces the advice I give in The Journal Writer’s Handbook: that sometimes on our voyage we need to find safe moorings and replenish our stocks. That sometimes journaling isn’t enough. For me this time I needed to reconnect with the trees and the squirrels and the birds, which, sure enough, just sat and sang.

Butterfly words

Sometimes you see an image that makes your heart leap. Then you discover something else about it which makes your heart sing. On this occasion this butterfly was made and the photo taken by my childhood friend Melanie McConville, who is one of those people in my life to whom Facebook has made my reconnection possible. When I saw this picture on her wall this morning I fell in love with its beauty and simplicity – but its theme also resonated very strongly with me.

Butterfly words are all too delicate. We capture them and pin them carefully in our journals, preserving as much as possible of their vibrancy, so that they can continue to inspire us, even without flight.

Butterfly words. Flights of fancy. So beautiful, simple and precious.

Weather – or not?

Here in the UK the country’s population is breathing a collective sigh of relief at the sight, for the second day running, of the sunshine. We might even be daring to imagine that spring is finally here.

It’s been a long, cold winter, on the back of last year’s long wet spring, summer and autumn. We Brits are struggling.

Personally I’ve noticed a much lower mood, and a craving for all sorts of food I really ought to avoid. Comfort eating, someone called it when I mentioned it to some friends yesterday, and we all nodded in earnest agreement. Seasonal Affective Disorder has been long recognised as a medically diagnosed ailment. Rarely before has it been possible to perceive some of the symptoms in the entire population. I’ve even been wondering whether the travel companies have inflated their prices to cash in on Brits desperate to get to the sunshine whatever the cost.

Don’t get me wrong. We Brits love talking about our awful weather. As much as we say it’s awful, we really love it because of the opportunities it affords us to complain. And complaining is one of the primary ways that We Brits engage with one another. In fact a few years ago I read a book by a social anthropologist named Kate someone who asserted that in order to be socially acceptable We Brits are obliged to agree with one another’s weather-based exchanges and observations. Even if the sun is shining gloriously, if someone says to a Brit “there’s a chilly wind though isn’t there?” We are honour-bound to agree. Woe betide anyone to dispute at this juncture the chilly wind in favour of the glorious sunshine. You couldn’t possibly say “Actually I hadn’t noticed the wind – I was too busy enjoying the sunshine.” You’d be ostracised.

But despite all this I think our relationship with the weather has gone a step too far this past 12 months. We’ve moved on from despising the weather just for the sake of social engagement, and have been stuck with weather so despicable that we’ve partially abandoned interaction altogether.

And now the sun’s out and, as one of my recent journaling workshop participants pointed out, we can finally see shadows. It’s wonderful to rediscover light and shade instead of just constantly being surrounded by gloom.

So today I’ve made a special commitment to make the most of the sun, and to be grateful for every opportunity to soak it up. For there’s another thing We Brits are fond of saying when the sun shines: “There’s nowhere like this country when the weather’s nice.” Just don’t mention the chilly wind.

Snapshot time!

The last day of the month is the time for journaling snapshots – a review of all that the out-going month has meant and a quick look inside for our next intentions. It’s something I look forward to every four weeks, and it’s happening tonight!

Meanwhile yesterday I met a woman who told me about her annual practice of writing herself a letter just before she takes down her Christmas decorations, reflecting on the year, how she’s feeling and what she might have planned for the year to come. She then tucks it away at the bottom of the decorations box, waiting for her to pick it up and read it the following Christmas time. I love this structure!

Happy snapshots!

The Journal Writer’s Handbook to be featured on Journal Talk

US based journal coach Nathan Ohren interviewed me a little while ago for his excellent Journal Talk series, and it will be available to hear on 29 April, this coming Monday. Do click on the link above to pick it up and listen in.

We had a fabulous conversation about journaling and reflective writing – and he managed to wheedle out of me my favourite journaling techniques and exercises. We also discussed the thorny question of digital versus manual journaling, and how journal writing is far from the solipsistic, introspective past time some would have it.

Nathan is an awesome broadcaster with such an easy-going and curious style. We had a few technical challenges making the interview but he was super patient and did an amazing editing job. He may well have a new vocation in sound production!

Like me, Nathan has over 25 years’ journal writing experience and he is absolutely convinced of its benefits. His on-line journal coaching programme runs a couple of times each year and I know he has an intriguing dream journaling programme too which kicks off this summer.

So do go and check out what he’s up to. On his podcasts page you’ll find interviews with US journaling experts Jessica Jensen and Mari McCarthy, both offering different perspectives on journal writing, as well as a neat conversation Nathan had over his birthday dinner with Kathy Lynch about the scientific evidence to prove the effectiveness of journal writing for mental and physical health.

And from Monday 29 April you’ll be able to hear what he has to say about The Journal Writer’s Handbook! Click here to go straight there.

ESSO-powered journaling

No – I’m not talking about petrol, and I don’t wish to be an advert for fossil fuel consumption.

ESSO stands for the things I most yearn for in my life, and which I found myself writing about the other day – Ease Simplicity Serenity and Order. I love how acronyms present themselves to me and invariably bring a new metaphor along for the ride.

Those who know me and my family personally might well scoff. You know what creative chaos we live in. But if I don’t form the intention to be with more ESSO, even if it’s a pipe-dream (OMG, when will this oil-industry analogy let go?), then I have not a cat in hell’s chance of staying sane.

With ESSO in mind I picked out a new journal this week, and found one which depicts singing birds on branches next to neat little bird-boxes. I proceeded to plan my week, including all our meals, and even shopped for all the menu items. I made sure all the laundry and all the ironing got done in one attempt, and I managed to clear away all the clutter from the bedroom floor.

A little order has gone a long way to support the ease and serenity of my time this week. Maybe I have been fuelled by ESSO after all.

What are the things you’re most yearning for right now? Can you make an acronym or acrostic out of them? And what’s the metaphor that accompanies it?