By BookBaby author Janna Lopez
Unlearning what you “know” about the writing process can ignite your creativity and help you realize your writing potential.
Here we are. Time to turn the page on another year. Time to reflect, plan, and dream. Time to make promises that we’ll be more, do more. This includes writing: more of it… better focus… dedicated words expressed to deliver us towards finally starting or completing that book. I believe in you. 100 percent.
However, forging an updated relationship with writing will mean doing something different than you’ve always done. In some cases, that might require you to unlearn or relearn what you know about writing.
This is great news because, this time, creativity will not only be welcomed, it will merge with productivity. You can discover unimaginable freedom when you commit to unlearning and relearning — I’ve seen it happen! So, to welcome in a new year, I present three proven insights taken from working with hundreds of clients at my Land of Enchantment Writing retreats.
1. Expand your perception of what “writing” is
If you feel a mental weight of having to write, internal incentive diminishes. Better stated, inspiration has a hard time taking flight if creativity is a demand. Many of us were taught that writing is a “discipline.” As a discipline, it only happens one way: sitting down every day, at the same time, for a forced amount of time, staring at an empty screen. And behind this (as a process) looms an unspoken albatross of expectation.
It’s true, to be productive, we need to remain engaged with a writing process. But, in my unlearning, I’ve greatly expanded my perception of what “writing” looks like. Reading others’ writing is writing. Walking outside and observing the birds and trees can be writing. Talking into your Notes app while stuck in traffic is writing. Listening to Elton John on a rainy day holding a warm mug of coffee is writing. Silence is writing.
In unlearning discipline and expectation as writing absolutes, I’ve relearned to view writing as an interactive, ongoing, experiential conversation. Conversations have infinite possibilities for how they unfold. They require trust.
Your words are like a long-lost friend. They have much to share with you and catch you up on. But they want to know that when they sit down for a meaningful conversation, you’ll be present. You’ll be listening — not checking your phone every two minutes, not half-paying-attention so you can say the next thing before hearing what’s said to you. You need to willingly show up for expression, stay engaged in the conversation, and unlearn the harsh internal expectations of what writing should be. This is a tremendous step towards reimagining what a fruitful writing relationship really is.
2. Write for yourself, not for others
This might be a tall ask. Sure, we write books to help build our businesses, tell stories, disseminate beliefs, and explore passions. Over time, we learn that, in order to further personal or professional goals through writing, we have to “package” our words in ways we imagine others will want to hear them. This learned belief is true no matter what we venture to write.
Yes, you need to understand who you’re addressing to best serve them, but falsely bending words, ideas, or proclamations to cater to pre-conceived audiences may inhibit the richness of what you really have to say, who you really are, or the magic of what you offer.
In trying to be everything for everyone through writing, threads of unique language and experience diminish. Watering down words to appeal to a generic, more widely attainable audience is like removing signature spices from a bold recipe. Most of us can tell when someone is writing from the heart versus playing a polished part. Stay true to your voice. Your experience. Your words.
3. Deviate from perceived “rules of writing”
There’s little to no expressive freedom if you’re sentenced (pun intended) to conformity. Sometimes we think in fragments or passages that don’t adhere to traditional structures. Perhaps English-class nightmares of bleeding red ink haunt us or the residual shame of feeling inadequate or “getting it wrong” remain embedded within our creative psyches. We refrain from taking creative chances or writing outside the lines at the expense of our authentic expression.
In my intuitive book coaching practice, I encourage writers to take chances on form. Try unimaginable line breaks. Allow paragraphs, spacing, and even sentences to wander far and wide. Of course we want to put forward our best work. With the advent of self-publishing, we have more creative freedom to write our books, and choose our words, on our own terms. This includes how what we write reads, looks, and flows. There are copy editors for hire to help clean-up remaining grammatical debris.
The point is whether, you end up publishing your work or not, give yourself the invitation to explore. Break formal writing rules just to see how it feels or what you can come up with. You’ll be amazed with the qualitative difference in your writing by unlearning structural confines.
I encourage you to engage in updating your relationship with writing. Being harder on yourself, or demanding more discipline, may or may not provide the creative, productive results you want. For a meaningful breakthrough, why not consider unlearning a few things that may be holding you back from your most creative and productive expression ever!
Happy New Year, happy new writing relationship, happy unlearning!
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