Ride the Wave With Joy: Principles for Writing

I’m exploring and sitting with a lot of questions around writing, vulnerability and storytelling at the moment. Here are some principles I want to remember.

It’s okay to write for yourself. It’s okay to write for the cathartic act of writing.

It’s okay to want to take up space with your words. Everyone deserves space to share, speak and be heard. You can give this to yourself.

You cannot control or determine what your writing will do once it has a reader. It might be read, judged, discarded, taken in, treasured, rejected or something else. It has its own life once it’s out in the world, a life that, like a child’s life, you only have a measure of control over.

You’re allowed to make the kind of art that feels good. If it feels good to you, the kind of good you feel in your bones, that’s integrity. It means you’ve listened to yourself, and have done what you need to do to bring something out of yourself, out of the mysterious ether of nothingness and into the world of form. You have given birth to a thing.

Writing to be of service matters, but it’s important to remember to keep the reader (or critic) at bay while you actually write – at least in the beginning. Censoring yourself, stifling the raw truth of what you want to say, or holding back because you’re worrying about whether it’s too self-indulgent or selfish or whatever will kill your words.

Don’t write to impress, or to achieve success or popularity, or because you want everyone to love you. Write as an act of honouring the deepest calling of your soul, which is and always has been to be a writer.

Some days, the writing will be shitty. You can treasure your shitty darlings if you like, but you know when something just isn’t that good. Let it out and then move on. Better things are coming.

Keep going. Even if there are gaps of weeks or months in between creating, keep going.

Try to narrow the gap. I know this feels elusive and hard sometimes. But you feel better when you’re writing than when you’re not. Try to remind yourself of that, and pay curious attention to the ideas that arrive.

Accept that you’re someone who has spent years avoiding this. Yes, listen to the people who’ve been “pro” in their approach for years or decades, but be fiercely compassionate to yourself, too. Their journey is not yours. You are not them. Your bumps in the road are not a sign of your weakness. Someone somewhere is struggling in just the same way as you to become consistent, to take their writing seriously or to let themselves dare to dream. Be gentler with yourself.

When you want to share your work, reflect on your motives, take a deep breath, set an intention and just fucking share it. You’ll never have the whole world on board with your decision, and there’ll always be a reason not to hit publish. If you listen to that voice you’ll go to your grave with so much still inside you. Aim to die both empty and full – empty in the sense of having poured ideas out of you, and full in terms of creative fulfilment.

Know that you are human. Perfection is not the goal.

Please, please, please give yourself permission and space to make bad art. Show it off! Tell people you know it’s shit but you want to share it anyway! Learn to laugh at your grandiosity and awkwardness, at what happens on the days when the Muse is playing elsewhere, when She is anywhere but here.

Read your poems out loud. Record yourself reading them. Give yourself to them. You enjoy it, and until you try it, you won’t know if others will enjoy it too or not. And they might. They just might.

You don’t have to share everything you write. Put your words in different places and remember that some things are just for you, others are for your inner circle and some are for the wider world. Boundaries are compassionate.

Share your work in a way that feels gentle on your nervous system. You’re not alone in this, and there are many friends who’ve got your back. Let yourself be supported.

Remember that you are a woman. You are mysterious, complex, chaotic and creative. Undefinable, ever-changing, deep and wild. Beware the people (often but not always men) with simple formulas telling you how to do this. They know not what you are.

Celebrate. You are building a body of work, step by tiny step. Look yourself in the eye on a regular basis and remember that you are undecided potential.

Finally, for now, see if you can let yourself enjoy it. Writing can be torturous at times, but when it’s flowing, ride the wave with joy.

(Photo by Angelina Litvin on Unsplash. Thank you Angelina.

Massive thanks also to Lian Blue and Liz Frances Hobbs for their time and thoughts. I wouldn’t have written this piece in this way without you both.)