If you’re like most writers, writing is not the only thing you do. You may have a full- or part-time job. Children or grandchildren. A partner. Aging parents. A messy house and no maid. Even if you are fortunate enough to make your living from writing, you probably can’t spend the entire day gripping your pen or staring into your computer screen. You’ll have an agent or publishers to deal with, social media to manage, readings to conduct, and, with any luck, lots of fan messages to respond to. (And possibly children or grandchildren, a partner, aging parents, and a messy house to boot.)
The point is, writing time is precious. Are you making the most of it? Or are you staring at the page—electronic or paper, blank or otherwise—in frustration?
I make a living by editing and coaching other writers. As much as I love the work I do and the people I work with, it can tap my creative resources and leave fewer resources for my own writing practice. Sometimes when I sit down to write, my brain is so wrapped up in notions of limited time and the next item on my “to do” list—or even exhaustion—that all I can do is watch the cursor blink.
But I’ve discovered the trick to writing freely is also a life practice: making time to breathe.
Our wound-up society has taught us that go-go-go is the road to success, that we must always put others first, and doing nothing is wrong. But the truth is, making time to just breathe is exactly what we need to cope with go-go-go. It’s also what we need to do to tap into our creative resources. Only when we nurture body, mind, and spirit can we recognize who we are, why we are, and what we are thinking. Only then can we hear the creative voice speak.
The trick is making time. It won’t happen without intention. It is undoubtedly harder to make time at some stages of life than others, but even a five-minute break with a few deep breathing exercises can expand your capacity for creativity and greater awareness. This is particularly hard to manage if you have young children. Even though you may be tempted to dive into your writing practice as soon as their heads hit their pillows, consider prioritizing a ten- or fifteen-minute practice of rest and rejuvenation first.
Over the past several years, I’ve incorporated several practices to nurture breathing space: walking, journaling, meditation, and qi gong—an ancient Chinese energy flow practice that’s really a form of moving meditation. And sometimes, when I’m wound especially tight, I just sit and stare out the window.
Making space is an individual pursuit. What works well for me may not work as well for you. Perhaps you’d prefer to sit in bed with a cup of tea and journal or sit on a park bench and people-watch, or just close your eyes and savour the silence. Whatever it is, do it!
Oh! Did you hear that? Time to go. Creativity is calling.
Photo by Annie Spratt and released on Unsplash with a CC0 licence.
