Do you ever have so many great ideas swirling around that it’s hard to keep track of what, or where, they all are? Perhaps there’s a partially written book manuscript in your drawer, a painting languishing on a shelf and great business ideas scattered in your computer files?

Or, on the opposite end of the spectrum, are you very good at staying focused on one thing – so focused, in fact, that you dogmatically stick with it and the process is, well, slightly dry and joyless?

If you’re in either of these camps, you’re not alone. As a writing coach, I’ve seen people in both of these spaces (and been in both myself!). The former are frustrated that they just can’t seem to finish what they start, the latter are frustrated that it’s just not fun. There are, however, insights to guide your way.

In HeatherAsh Amara’s’s new book “Sacred Time Management,” she says, “When we have too much intent (focused purpose) running, we get narrow-minded and dogmatic. There is no room for discovery or learning through our mistakes. When we live solely from our creativity, we become ungrounded and scattered. We have lots of ideas, but not the force to manifest them in a concrete manner. It is only when we balance play and focus, discipline and experimentation, intent and creativity, that we possess the ingredients to fully catalyze our blossoming.”

I love this. It so beautifully describes the relationship between the two styles, and what direction will move us towards more balance. In upcoming posts, I’ll explore ways to find this balance. Meantime, awareness is a huge leap – so enjoy flying!

When I read a client’s writing, it’s usually obvious where they were writing it. I don’t mean if they were on a black rock beach in Hawaii or having tea at their daughter’s house. I mean, it’s clear if it was written from the very logical, detail oriented section of the brain that is afraid to make a mistake and gets all rigid when facing the empty page… or if it’s written from a light, joyful space that’s whooshing through the page like bluebirds on a summer’s morning.

People don’t always get that the space they write from is just as important as the words that come out. That’s why I’m especially tickled with the title of Story Circle’s national memoir conference, Stories from the Heart V, held in Austin February 5-7 (http://www.storycircle.org/Conference/ ) I’m excited and honored to be one of the writing coaches selected this year to support conference attendees in “writing from their heart.” When we go deep, we find our authentic voices that we can then share with the world.
I hope you’ll join us – let’s find out what riches await when we loosen the rein on our logical brain and write from vaster spaces…

For someone who loves to write and loves to read, there’s no greater thrill (other than a cold evening, a fire and a good book) than mixing and mingling with other writers. On that count, a recent outing was pure bliss. My husband Charley and I strapped on our tennis shoes, grabbed water bottles and made a day of it at the Texas Book Festival in Austin.

Under balmy 75 degree skies, we traced green pathways around the state capital lined with tents full of books. Friend Jennifer Marine and author of “No One’s the Bitch” told me about her upcoming interview on Dr. Phil’s show, I got some books signed, and we sat in the massive capitol rooms to hear authors speak. Afterwards, we sipped freshly squeezed lemonades while listening to music and cradling our precious book purchases.

A highlight was listening to my favorite author, Elizabeth Berg, speaking about her writing process. She likened it to a “freefall into trust.” She said she never knows where she’s going to end up, but it’s a spiritual process where she simply has faith that what needs to be expressed will make it onto the page. Rather than rigidly plotting her books, she lets everyday miracles speak for themselves on the page.

By the end of the day – and before our jaunt to 6th Street to see revelers in their Halloween costumes – I felt deeply quenched. Writing is a solitary sport, but one so deeply enjoyable we sometimes forget that swapping stories with other writers is a vital part of the package.

I’ve always avoided the rain. Secretly, I’ve really wanted to be like those people in the movies who joyfully run out in the rain, spinning amidst the drops with a blissful look on their faces. Their meaning is clear. They’re really living – the rest of us aren’t. Yet, when it starts to rain, I’m the one quickening my step to get underneath a store overhang, or waiting an extra 10 minutes until it slows before I make a dash for my car. My husband scoffs and makes comments about how no one melts in the rain, but frankly I’ve never seen him out there blissfully spinning circles, either.

All that changed this year on my birthday. I was up early and in the mood for a solitary walk, so I flipped open the shutters to check on the weather. It looked ominous. Still, I figured I could be out and back before the weather changed. I grabbed my umbrella, left the dog behind (it was MY birthday, after all, not his) and started out.

Halfway through, a few fat raindrops plunked on my bare arms, so I took preventative steps and put up my umbrella. Before long it was pouring and I was looking for a tree to dive under. Then I caught a smell. This was something I hadn’t smelled in awhile. It was rich, composty, some sort of mix of worms and flowers. I inhaled. I looked down and saw the water flowing down the side of the road with brown leaf boats racing along. I joined them, running beside the quick flowing water to see who would win. A few giggles burst out, and I was glad everyone was tucked into their houses and couldn’t see me slipping and dancing down the street.

The fabric of my pants clung to my bare skin as the staccato assault continued. I didn’t care. It was almost as if I could taste Spring. I wasn’t watching it out my window, it was baptizing me.

By the time my husband swung by in the car, pushing open the door to offer me a dry ride home, I was hooked. I smiled and waved him on. The unwrapping of this birthday gift was too decadent to hurry along…

Pearls for Writers: What is something that you avoid, thinking that it will be unpleasant, rather than diving in and experiencing the truth of it in the moment? Pick something and try it out. Then write…

It’s so funny how perfectionism can sneak into our day, even for those of us who wouldn’t typically call ourselves “perfectionists.” Usually I catch it — this time, it snuck right by me.

Someone I admire asked me to write a testimonial for the back cover of her book. After reading it, I made a mental note to write up a quote. Then I lost the book. Then I forgot about the book. Then I found it again, piled under some other books on my shelf, whacked myself in the forehead and thought, “I’ve got to write that testimonial… just as soon as I have time.”

Already, two sneaky little guides of perfectionism had snuck in.

Guise number one – By accidentally “losing” the book, I didn’t have to worry about writing the perfect testimonial.
Guise number two – By telling myself I’d write it when “I had the time,” I was in effect telling myself there wouldn’t be time anytime soon.

A week later, I still hadn’t done it. As this “to-do” began to haunt me more, the pain of not doing it finally overcame my perceived pain of doing it. So I sat down and in five minutes, literally, it was finished. The author read it and thanked me for writing something so, dare I say it, perfect.

I had to laugh. All that angst – for five minutes of writing?

Perfectionism had snuck in and convinced me that I needed to write a really great testimonial. That’s fine to want to do something well. But the erroneous belief that sidled in along with that thought was that in order to do it well, it would take effort. It would take time. Maybe even a few drops of blood. And after all that, it still might not be good.

As it ended up, it took none of the above. I simply had believed my erroneous thoughts — and fallen for the guises.

Discover your own Pearls: When does your wanting to do something “perfectly” sometimes prevent you from doing it at all? Does your perfectionism ever show up as procrastination? What is the cost?