Mindful Writing

“Fortune favors the prepared mind.” - Louis Pasteur 

In a world that demands more and more of our time and attention, distracting us from the page and from the inner workings of our mind, a writer has to work even harder these days to carve out the quiet time to think and write. 

But there’s hope that we might find the quietness we need to write thanks to Brenda Miller and Holly J. Hughes. Their book, The Pen and the Bell (Skinner House Books, Boston), is a collection of personal essays, along with helpful writing and contemplation exercises, all designed to inspire writers to find a way of writing mindfully in a busy world.

From the opening pages, Miller and Hughes point writers gently toward a new understanding of the writing process.  “Wouldn’t it be wonderful,” ask the authors, “to feel that each day we’re granted an ‘honor and a task,’ and each day to know that we can easily do the work—with pleasure, focus, and joy?” 

For those who love to write, suggest the authors, or think they might love to write if they could simply find the time to do it, "this honor and task could be sitting down with our minds wide open, our pens and notebooks and computers at the ready, to articulate our perceptions as accurately and as beautifully as we can.”

On page after page, the authors encourage writers to regain a sense of their inner spirit, and they remind us that “writing serves a purpose greater than the product alone.”

Beginning with the first chapter (“Sitting Down and Waking Up”) and proceeding to the last (“Balancing Contemplation and Action”), you’ll find the wisdom of two writers who will inspire you to sit down and write.

Wisdom like this: 

The word discipline is an extension of the word disciple, and if we consider ourselves disciples of writing, we might find the energy and devotion we need to keep going, even when it feels like the practice is arduous. (p. 44)

or this:

So we don't need to have big ideas in order to start writing. We can start right in with the chores, with the laundry, with the messiness of our lives. We can focus and be fully awake, no matter what we are doing. We need to learn to create room within our lives, not outside of them, in order to expand the space for both spirituality and writing. (p. 56)

Not only are Hughes and Miller wonderful guides sharing parts of their own writing journeys, they are sympathetic and understanding companions who offer encouragement for you to make your own journey and to find the space you need to write.

The Pen and the Bell is a book about becoming “a bell awakened,” which, as the authors note, is about finding a path into our deeper selves, and about being able to share that self—and the authenticity of that self—on the page with others. 

The pen in the title, they explain, refers to the writing process, the bell to those things that can support the writing process. 

If you can get hold of this book and spend time with Miller and Hughes, you’ll find that your writing—your approach to writing, your sense of self as a writer—will deepen and grow in ways that you might not have expected. 

And over time, as you savor each page and mull over the exercises at the end of each chapter, you’re more than likely to find that contemplative state of mind.

That’s because, thanks to Miller and Hughes, you’ll have learned to listen and absorb as much of the world around you as you can.

For more information about The Pen and the Bell and its two authors, visit: http://www.penandbell.com

Inside, Outside

In order to write, I need to go inside.

Not literally inside a room or a building but inside myself.

I spend weeks, months, and often years on a project learning how to do this, how to get past my outer self and step into the inner imaginary world that I'm trying to create.

It doesn't happen automatically. Even after years of writing, this process takes time and thought, and the willingness to go into solitude, to leave behind the outer world and the people in it and enter this inner space alone.

It’s in solitude, inside this inner space, that I can lower my guard. But to reach this space, I have to be willing (and able) to shed my shell, to meet life without any armor, without defenses, so that I can absorb life in all its variety without anything coming between life and my skin.

Learning to write without any defenses--no judgment, no expectations, no assumptions-- means learning to listen, the kind of listening that can occur only if I've managed to shed my armor in order to welcome life's trials and challenges and joys and triumphs without a protective shield. 

Whenever I leave this inner space and set foot outside, I am conscious of leaving this inside world and returning to the outside world, a world filled with conversations and tv and internet and college football games and NBA basketball and handymen re-tiling the shower and bank statements and publishers and agents and errands and food shopping, all the stuff of life.

It's always a strange feeling to emerge from this inner state of mind, to let go of the images and voices in my head, and find myself in this outer world again. It's like stepping from the darkness of a movie into the bright light outside the theater. 

Does every writer share this same demarcation line between inside and outside? And when you attend a writing conference, do you notice how it's harder to return to that inside world after spending time in the outside world?

Writing conferences like the Rutgers One-on-One Plus in New Brunswick NJ that I attended a few weeks ago offer wonderful ways of exploring the outside world of publishing and help writers make connections to the world inhabited by agents and editors who are always looking for new and compelling work.

But to create that work, a writer has to leave that world behind.

If we want to write, we need to shut the door to that world, cross over the line between outside and inside, and remove the armor that we had to put on in order to step into that world so that we can look inward again.

It's what we have to do as writers.

As much as we might enjoy spending time with others and delighting in life on the outside, if we want to write, we need to pull ourselves away --pull ourselves inside the theater of our imaginations—and listen closely for the words waiting inside us to be written.  

Distracting Currents

It happened again this past week.

One morning after I finished breakfast, put up a pot of coffee, and set my manuscript on the kitchen table to start work, I decided it wouldn’t hurt to check my e-mail before sitting down to write.

And checking e-mail turned into a fifty minute distraction--messages from readers, friends, students, colleagues; updates on my Facebook account; new Tweets to follow.

And then, while sitting at my computer, the phone rang... and, of course, I had to answer it.

After hanging up I went back to the kitchen, not to start work on that manuscript but to get something to eat.

By the time I looked up at the clock, I realized that the morning was gone.

In that split-second decision when I turned away from the manuscript, I thought it would only take a moment to check my e-mail.

I hadn’t imagined responding to messages or checking Facebook or signing into Twitter, just checking in to see if anything urgent was waiting for me.

But the moment I sat down at my computer and signed in, I found my mind disengaging from the difficult work of diving into a manuscript and, instead, relaxing into the ease of responding to messages and the pleasure of reading the work of other writers.

And, looking back, I’m sure that part of what pulled me away from the manuscript was precisely this desire for pleasure as much as the desire to avoid the challenging (and sometimes uncomfortable) work of revisions.

Instead of diving deeply into a manuscript and searching for emotional truths still hidden on the page, I made the decision to step off the diving board and let myself be distracted by a different current.

Admittedly, there are days when I have only enough emotional strength to step into a shallow current, to explore links and answer e-mail messages and check Facebook postings and talk on the phone.

But there are other days when I can delude myself into thinking that checking e-mail will only take a moment, when, instead of sticking to my plan, I veer off course purely on a whim or because of a hidden fear that I may not have what it takes to dive today.

That’s how I can end up in a current of distractions.

Some days I find myself in a sink hole, unable to get out. Other days I can manage to step out of the current and return to my original plan, just a bit later than I'd intended to start.

The key to sticking to my plan is to remind myself what’s most important.

Is it checking e-mail, hanging out with friends on Facebook, sending another Tweet?

Or is it getting the words on paper?

What about you?

How do you manage to stick to your plan to write rather than letting yourself be swept away by a distracting current?

How do you overcome your urge to step into that current and, instead, stay on the diving board and jump back into your work?

Write and let us know when you get a chance.

For more on avoiding distractions, visit:
http://www.ehow.com/how_8746343_avoid-distractions-writing.html
http://mywritingtips.com/tag/prevent-distractions/
http://www.helium.com/items/2102522-distractions-to-avoid-while-writing-writing-distractions-emails-friends-competition
http://betterwritinghabits.com/5-strategies-to-banish-writing-distractions-for-good/
http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/164729/how_to_avoid_distractions_while_writing.html?cat=15
http://www.sfnovelists.com/2008/09/19/ways-to-avoid-distraction-while-on-deadline/