Last February, after some heavy arm-twisting from a lifelong friend, I registered for Brave Magic, Elizbeth Gilbert and Cheryl Strayed’s weekend retreat at 1440 Multiversity in Northern California. While it wasn’t quite what I signed up for – I was hoping for more writing and less personal growth – I was inspired by Liz and Cheryl and how they approach the page.
Specifically, I marveled at how different their processes are. Cheryl paints in the dark, writing every word without a roadmap. Liz researches for years, stashing index cards in shoeboxes by character before even thinking about striking a keyboard.
What I love about both isn’t their writing prowess, though that’s pretty great, too. It’s their commitment to authenticity and self-discovery. It’s their belief that, through the work, they learn about themselves and the world around them. There is no complacency. There’s struggle. There’s grit. There’s tenacity.
The Inner Battle
Most people have their clarity (i.e., I want to do this thing) and their inner terrible someone (I can’t do this thing). And the two are in a constant battle for their attention. As a creative writer, your job is to ignore your inner terrible someone and trust your clarity, even if you doubt it. “Don’t think. Just write,” says Cheryl.
So, I spent three days writing letters to the stuff inside of me – fear, clarity, enlightenment, enchantment, power, and the list goes on. Not only did I feel like I had multiple personality disorder, I also felt like I didn’t want to write another %$&ing letter. But then, persistence showed up and I had to write a letter to her, too.
By the end of the retreat, I decided to draft one final letter. I wrote to my inner terrible someone and told her (because, it’s always a her, right?!), to get the $#%! out of my way. But I said it nicely.
The Just Reward
Often what prevents people from creating – whether a book, essay or other creative pursuit – is the idea that they’re wasting time.
“When people say, why should I make a thing when I have all of these other responsibilities? Why should I take this irreplaceable currency, time, and use it in this way when there’s no guarantee of a book deal, a paycheck or infamy? My answer is: because you will be a totally different human being from doing it,” says Liz. “That’s the reward.”
So, if you let go of the idea that you have to write the great American novel and commit to writing a bad one, you can get out of your own way and get to work. Most writers I know are perfectionists, so embracing mediocrity is a challenge. But it also opens the door to creativity – and that’s where the greatness lives.