An Empty Wallet Is No Excuse

Passion soared when I read this Facebook comment:

Being a writer is my dream. But I can’t afford to take writing classes.

I was not the only one to reply. The following list includes points made in other responses along with additional thoughts of my own:

• Anyone who makes words visible on screen or paper is a writer. You do not need to be published.
• Your local library is full of books about how to write.
• The web is full of blogs, tutorials, newsletters, free webinars, and other resources to sharpen writing skills.
• Whether you can afford to take classes or not, find a local writing group. I summarize their benefits in this post.
• Do a web search to look for a group, and also ask at your library. All the dozen-plus successful memoir/lifestory writing groups I’ve been involved with have been library sponsored.
• Keep an eye open for free or nearly so classes. Senior centers and community colleges are likely locales.
• Online writing groups may be as good or better than local ones.
• Check sites like the ones on this list for free on-line writing classes targeted to specific skill topics.
• Search for “free online memoir writing courses” to find free classes and groups. Caveat: free classes are often a come-on for pricey follow-up classes and/or coaching services. Take advantage of what you can get and keep expectations low.

So, you see, you can learn to write well with an empty wallet. Don’t put it off. Start now. Eventually you can even publish for absolutely free via CreateSpace and Kindle, though you’re likely to attract more readers with a small investment in a good cover and some editing beyond what your writing group and beta readers can give you. Your own efforts are perfectly acceptable for limited family and friends’ distribution.

Beyond any thoughts of publication, WRITING IS GOOD FOR YOUR HEALTH. I’ve written extensively about that, especially in my archived blog, Writing for the Health of It.

Now you know an empty wallet is no excuse. What else might be holding you back from following your dream of becoming a writer?

Image by Damon D’Amato, http://ow.ly/vzrI30f4kMT, used by permission via Creative Commons license.

Dreams Do Come True

Dreams do come true – the day dream kind, the wish upon a star kind. I know this because many of mine have. I know they have because I wrote them down. Two examples stand out and show how writing dreams down can benefit life writers.

Moving to Pittsburgh
Around 1983 I began dreaming about moving away from what I considered to be the serious career limits of life in Washington’s Tri-Cities (Richland, Kennewick and Pasco). That was during the hey day of the goal setting movement, at least for me. So I drafted a list of everything I wanted when we moved, even though no move was in sight. That list had over twenty items. Among other things it included

• Major university.
• Major corporate headquarters
• A house with high ceilings
• A stream in our backyard. (That was pure whimsy, nothing I expected to get.)

I stuck that list somewhere and forgot about it. 

In 1985 my husband accepted a job transfer from the Westinghouse Hanford Nuclear Project to the Westinghouse Nuclear Center in Monroeville, Pennsylvania. I was thrilled to be in a suburb of a real city. Fast forward about three years. I found that list. I was stunned. Every item on it had been fulfilled. True, the high ceiling is only a half-cathedral in the living room and the stream only runs after a serious rainstorm, but it is a stream, and it is in the woods in our backyard. Pittsburgh has two renowned universities and several lesser ones and nearly a dozen major corporate headquarters as well a hundreds of smaller ones.

Moving again
in 1993 I wrote a future vision as part of another goal-setting/dream-building exercise. Over the past several years I’ve remembered that exercise often, and looked all over for it, primarily to show my daughter that a dozen years before she met their father, I knew she’d eventually have two daughters. My memory was of writing it by hand in one of the pile of notebooks I began as journals of one sort or another and then abandoned. I’ve found it perplexing that I’ve never been able to find it.

Yesterday I found it. While sorting through various artifacts in my office, thinning things out before packing to move (date as yet undetermined), I found some gorgeous 20-year-old overhead slides I used in workshops and programs on holding effective meetings. Hoping I could find the original file on my computer, I began digging through back-up folders uploaded from old floppies (remember those?). I never did find the slides, but I found something even better:

I found my dream building file, the one I’ve been looking for. Memory was wrong It was never on paper. It’s beautifully done in workbook format. I remember now that I had visions of publishing that workbook, without my personal content.

Reading over the elements of that dream, I buzzed with excitement. I’m living most of that dream right now. Other elements, like the office and house I describe, exactly match what I recently wrote about the house I hope to find in Austin. The dream document said Seattle, but at this point Austin is a better choice. My daughter has built the free-lance writing business I foresaw, and she does have two young daughters. Nearly 25 years after writing that, we will live near each other.

 So what?
Quite aside from any mystical, metaphysical “laws of attraction” aspects of goal-setting, these documents are jewels for lifewriters.

• They document with laser precision just what we hoped and dreamed for at various points in time.
• They provide a mirror for reflecting on subsequent events. If we were on target as I have been, we can follow the trail of events that led from then to now. If not, we can explore the insurmountable obstacles, how they affect us, and how they shaped our lives.
• They provide a focus for stories and memoir.

Sowing and reaping
It’s never too late to start harnessing the power and fascination of dreams. I can’t guarantee they’ll all come true, but I do guarantee you’ll have a fascinating experience as you consider the possibilities. Although it does work to lose them and find them years later, I suggest you start a journal for this specific purpose and keep track of it. That  might be on paper, but a computer file serves well too. Just back it up and file it where you’ll be able to find it again.

Write now: write down a dream of life as you’d like it to be at some point in the future. Give your inner critic a sleeping pill and call in your muse to help you be creative. Be precise and specific about describing details that make it real. Include whimsical elements like that stream. Include emotions and feelings you expect to have. Don’t worry about editing or spelling. Just write it all down. It’s worked for me to file this stuff away and forget about it. Most gurus have you post it on your wall and keep it in sight to keep its power alive. Follow your instincts on this. Years from now, you’ll find it again and have something to remember, write about, and maybe share with your family and the world.

Image credit: Ruben Alexander

Living to Write the Tale

A novel concept came across my radar lately in the form of a guest post request – the idea of planning to live a life worth writing about. Although I saluted the basic idea, my initial reaction was that such a post belongs in inspirational blogs, and does not fit the focus of this life writing blog. At first glance, it seems to contradict what I’ve said many times, that any life is worth writing about. I also failed to see the connection between establishing visions and goals and writing about life.

The second time I received a proposal about this, something clicked. The idea of taking charge of your life, however many days or years you have left is nothing new. I recognized that people like Elizabeth Gilbert did just that in her best-selling memoir, Eat Pray Love. She planned the sort of adventures she wanted to experience and write about and negotiated a book contract before she bought her plane ticket. A few purists felt that was contrived and perhaps a tad beyond the pale for memoir. But the vast majority applauded her spunk.

What was new this second time was realizing that life writing has powerful tools for making that planning effective, and they’ll work for any age.

These tools work because writing makes thinking visible. Once you see something on the page, whatever form it’s in, it’s easier to understand and manage. Use these tools to explore your hopes and dreams and develop ways to bring them about.

1) Journal: Use your journal to write about hopes and dreams.

• Make a bucket list of 100 things you want to do, visit, see, or experience before you die.
• Journal or freewrite about possible ways of doing these things.
• Explore reasons why you believe you can or cannot do any given one
• Dig into your beliefs and values.
• Record your dreams and explore desires hidden in them.

2) Write stories about things you’ve already done that felt especially fulfilling. Dig more deeply into these stories to explore what elements made them exciting or fulfilling and journal about ways to add more of this element to your life.

3) Write stories about things you dream of doing. Include yourself as the main character and give yourself all sorts of exciting challenges you’d live to have. Live your dreams on the page. Even if you never set foot out of your house, you’ll have much the same sense of fulfillment that you would gain from actually doing whatever it was.

Although it seems a bit eerie, visionaries have known for ages that vividly imagining something tricks the brain into believing it is real or really happened. If you write vividly about doing something, your brain will respond as if you have, and make it easier to “do it again.”

So whatever your age, finances or other perceived limitations, write yourself a life worth writing about, then live it to the fullest and go on to to write the tale.

Write now: pull out paper and pen and write yourself into an adventure you'd love to have in real time. Make it vivid, with full detail and emotion. Write a lot about how you feel as you “live in the story.”. Be exotic and daring. Write it in present or past tense, not future, and avoid any form or thought of “if.” Write this real. Polish the story and cherish it. Then put it away and see what happens.

Image credit: Coolcal2011

Let Peace Begin With Me

Each time I pick up the paper, listen to the radio, or catch the news on the web or TV, it seems the world is besieged with violence, from my local community up to the global level. From hateful name-calling and accusations to death and bombing threats, it all breaks my heart.

As I pondered the dire mess and state of the world, I remembered this song that has lived in my heart for decades. I remembered the key message: LET IT BEGIN WITH ME! How can I play a larger part, I wondered. What else can I do or say? I can go to local Council meetings and speak, but what more?

Of course I know the answer. I can write! I can use the power of story in so many ways. For those who care to join me, let me list some ways:

Journal out fear and other ugly thoughts. Many years ago I began turning to writing to dig deeply into attitudes, beliefs and reactions to even small things. I ask myself questions, like “Is this true?” “How else can I look at this situation?” “What part might I have played in causing this situation?” “What might it look like to (fill in the blank with a person, possible action or other change)?” “What can I do to change this situation?” Write from a perspective of empathy and compassion, striving to build bridges across differences.

I don’t know who else this has affected, but I’m a happier, more confident person with a brighter outlook on life than I used to be, and that says something. At least my internal world is more calm and peaceful.

Write about times you faced conflict. Story is a powerful thing. It tends to snap the issues into focus. Whether you were the victim, hero, or stayed on the sidelines, write stories about your experience with conflict. These stories may involve personal relationships,  work situations, community affairs, or how you were affected by national and international events like wars.

Write the story for yourself first. Include your fears, your pain, your hopes and dreams for the situation. Include some of the elements from those journaling suggestions, but put this in story form rather than random rawness. Get it all down. Let it sit awhile. Then decide if it’s one you want to keep private or share with family, friends, or the world. You’ll benefit from writing it, and probably feel more peaceful, whatever level of sharing you choose.

Write healing stories and letters. Sherrey Meyer has a lot to say on this topic. Her blog, Healing by Writing includes a page with “Letters to Mama.” These are letters Sherrey has written to her deceased mother as a path to personal healing from a painful girlhood and to allow her “childhood voice” to be heard. These letters are an important component of her memoir-in-progress.

Her letters will not be read by the person she wrote them to. We can also write healing letters, perhaps letters of explanation and/or apology, that can be read and make a difference.

Write happy endings. This is an odd suggestion in a life writing blog, because it sounds like creative fiction. But oddly enough, in my experience, writing stories like this has an uncanny way of making them happen. Sages through the ages have emphasized the value of visualization, and what better way to focus visualization than writing stories?

These are just a few of the channels we can use to write stories that can help peace “being with me” and ripple out into the larger world.

Write now: Write a piece of peace. So some journaling about unpeaceful thoughts you are having. Write a story about conflict. Please join me in using your memory and fingers to let peace begin with you.

Memoir: Process or Product?

With any form of expressive writing, from spontaneous journaling to polished, published memoir, the writing process produces 90% of the benefit, at least as far as the writer is concerned.

To be clear, this 90% figure is an intuitive assessment, but not a wild guess. I extensively studied the healing value of expressive writing and wrote about it in a series of blog posts, Writing for the Health of It. I also base it on a stream of student comments that stories they wrote for class shed new light on past events, changing their perspective.

This may be especially good news if privacy concerns deter you from writing. It’s okay to write for a readership of one. In fact, that may be your healthiest, most gratifying course of action. You’ll get  most of the value even  if nobody else ever sees a word of it.

In fact, if your story upsets others, the resulting controversy and turmoil may offset the proven benefits of writing. You are well-advised to use caution when you have doubts how your story will be received. Carefully weigh your risks and benefits, and don’t risk what you’re unwilling to lose.

Other reasons people avoid publishing are more pragmatic. When you put your life on public display, you want clean copy. You want it to make sense and be free of embarrassing typos and simple grammar errors, and you want it to look nice on the page. You want it to look professional, without sacrificing authenticity.

Moving from draft to polished publication is a daunting task. Not everyone wants to exert that degree of effort. Not everyone knows how or wants to learn. You can pay people to edit your story and make it look like a million dollars. That’s like investing in custom framing for a picture you painted – nice if you can afford it. With diligent promotion, you may recoup some of the cost of professional assistance, but it’s not prudent to spend more on publication than you can afford to write off.

Finishing the draft of a memoir pays huge dividends. Polishing it pays more. The more you ponder story elements, which to include and how they interrelate, the deeper your insight and sense of meaning become. The more you study the craft of writing and contemplate  fresh ways of describing people, places and experiences, the more open you become to the world around you.

Whether you do it to contain costs with group editing or for the fun of it, joining a lifestory writing group or class provides further benefits as you bond with others and enhance writing skills through the power of story and collaboration.

Everything to the point of uploading your file to a printer is part of the process. When you choose to share your story with others, whether it takes the form of a rough stone or a polished gem, the process still holds most of the value for you. You may eventually reap huge  royalties, but whatever the financial rewards, you have created a historical document that others will treasure. That’s a mighty sweet cake. Inspiring others piles on icing – your gift to the world.

What is your aspiration? Process or product? How do you view this reward balance?

Write now: pull out your Story Idea List, select a topic and write that story!

Dreamy Inspiration

Sleep is restful and restorative, and dreams a source of inspiration. Or so it’s supposed to be. The past few nights my dreams have been so full of inspiration that I awoke feeling as if I’d worked all night, but refreshed and energetic in spite of having done so.

The first night I wrote an important email about nineteen times, so often that I began realizing I was really asleep and became concerned that my unperfected drafts may have inadvertently crossed the boundary into waking reality and premature delivery. At that point, I concentrated extra hard on remembering the precise wording as the only viable way of harvesting the results of my nocturnal efforts.

I admit that as soon as I got up, I checked the Sent folder on my computer to be sure nothing had permeated the membrane between parallel universes, and though I felt a little silly, I also felt relieved. Right away I dashed off a draft of that email. It slid easily through my fingers in near perfect form on the first try.

Then next night was equally busy. I began editing a story I had written several weeks ago. After a short period of fiddling with words, I turned my attention to basic structure and discovered that the story had significantly stronger impact if I rearranged the order of several scenes. Once again, I was aware that I was dreaming and made extra effort to store it in a folder on my “awake” drive.

In actual fact, I had not written the story I “edited” in the second dream, but it is one I’ve given considerable thought to – a process I refer to as “pre-writing.” I didn’t have time to write the entire story the next morning, but I did jot down notes about the structural insights I had and will take them into account when I do commit the story to paper in the near future.

I often have such dreams, and I’m not sure what to make of them. Some may see them as indications of obsession or stress, but they were not anxious dreams. I was fully absorbed in the writing process, finding it rewarding and satisfying.

Who knows? Perhaps when I’m writing in real time, for example this blog post, I’m actually living a dream. Now if I can just dream the perfect structure for that memoir I’m working on … maybe … just maybe … I can write that dream into print.

In the final analysis, this brings into question the whole matter of reality and truth. Which is real? Which is True? The dream story or the waking one? Memoirists and philosophers have wondered this since mankind first stood on two feet.

Write now: think about overlaps you’ve noticed between your dreams and waking situations. Have you solved problems in your dreams? Write about this. Write about situations you’d like to dream answers to or problems you’d like to solve. Some say it’s possible to program dreams this way. Give it a try, then write the story.

 

Fireflies and the Power of Story

What else holds the fascination of fireflies? Once again they light the night with mysterious flashes. One unforgettable night a few years ago I glanced out the window and saw several dozen fireflies blinking their little hearts out. I'd never seen so many in our yard at once. and I stood transfixed. Watching this fascinating show. I soon noticed that they were flashing in cycles of six blinks in three seconds, then idling for about ten seconds before repeating the sequence. They weren’t moving around much. Once in awhile I saw one blink through the air like a plane approaching the runway, but most hovered in the same spot indefinitely.

Eventually I spotted a pattern involving maybe two dozen fireflies flashing a complicated sequence of blinks. This rhythmic frenzy of flashing started in the same place every ten to twelve seconds, and though it became intuitively predictable, it was too complicated to remember. Alien code? Could be! I thought of the light show and intergalactic concert ending of the movie Close Encounters of the Third Kind, recalling how sound and light bridged the communication barrier between different life forms.

Nearly thirty years ago I discovered Theomatics, an arcane library book demonstrating that both Hebrew and Latin words can be converted to numerical values. So can light waves, sound waves, and even matter (using atomic weights). We all understand the concept of writing music on staffs, a form of graphical notation. Color could be graphed in a similar way, using the numerical values of specific color tones. It is hardly a stretch of the imagination to consider translating our thoughts to Latin or Hebrew and graphing numerical word values.

I envision mind-boggling symphonies of light and sound transmitting pure thought-waves, beaming light and love through the universe. Perhaps the firefly symphony I saw was a demonstration of this possibility — a demonstration conducted in yellowish green and black, much like early computer monitors.

My thoughts turn a corner to my writing groups, both local and online, formal and ad hoc. I think of our stories as dots of light, building bridges between people. They create a web of links between us wherever we are, and that web will grow larger as they shine forth to others. Each time we share stories, we create a symphony of life, with each story carrying part of the tune. I hear everything, from lullabies, to stirring storms, combining in perfect harmony, creating something greater than the sum of the parts. As we write and share, our stories show us life and the past from new angles, hopefully wiser stronger ones. We light each others lives by sharing hope, love and humor. My life is better for the writing and sharing.

I think of the song, “I’d Like to Teach the World to Sing”, and edit it ever so slightly. “I’d like to teach the world to write, in perfect love and truth.” How could peace and harmony not result?

Write now: about fireflies, dreams, visions, love, peace, truth, or anything else noble and exalting that comes to mind. Share your story with at least one other person, maybe in email, maybe in person. Let your stories build bonds.

Dreaming Pieces of My Heart

This morning I awoke in a rosy glow of delight, recalling an amazing dream. In this dream I was able to change a potentially ugly situation into a joyful one. Other dream fragments bubbled to the surface.

As I slid out of bed to record these shimmering dream bubbles in my journal, I recalled an event related to these dreams, and then a few others. I jotted all these thoughts in my journal as fast as I could, in highly condensed form. Related thoughts and insights tumbled out.

The result is rather like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle scattered on a table, without a cover picture to guide the assembly. I don’t yet know what it all means.

I find great value in dreams for uncovering hidden thoughts and beliefs that wouldn’t occur to me other ways, and discerning Truth. Capturing these fragments on paper serves an important purpose. It cements them in my waking reality, and gives me a way to return to ponder them at greater length and find connections among them.

This is not the first time I’ve had an experience like this. I don’t regularly remember dreams, but as I do, as I consider their implications, small changes in my understanding are growing into larger ones. Fragments are coalescing into a developing story. Ultimately I suspect they will form a new “Story of Everything.”

In a real sense, I am “restorying” my life, one dream, one fragment at a time.

What does this mean, to have a restoryed life? A few months ago I gazed at my knee, amazed to realize a scar formed there when I was eight years old has completely disappeared. I began searching for other scars. A couple are still visible, but over the years, while I was not looking, most have faded and healed over. I still remember picking scabs from that knee, but the visible evidence is gone. Even my body is telling a different story these days. This restorying process is healing scars on the inside. Perceptions and memories have taken on new slants and shimmer.

I have no formula for this process and haven’t read one. It’s intuitive. All I know for sure is the value of dreaming and writing pieces of those dreams to fit together as they will.

Write now: think of a dream you’ve recently had. Write about it in your journal or ordinary paper. Record the dream, then ask yourself some questions, such as “What do you think this means? What is this dream telling me? Write the questions on your paper, then start writing the answers without specific conscious thought. You may be amazed at the answers that bubble forth.

I Had a Dream

I had a dream — and so did you. Whether we remember them or not, dreams are an integral part of normal sleep. Dreams have rich potential for lifewriters and memoirists, but this resource is seldom tapped. In fact, this resource is seldom even remembered. But considering that the average person spends about two hours a night dreaming (that adds up to something like six years total over an average lifespan), our dream life is definitely worth further exploration for the insight it can provide. and including dream content in stories can add poignancy to our writing.

If you write about your dreams at all (sleeping or otherwise), your probably do it in a journal. Journal therapists frequently urge people to keep a special journal by their bedside to record dreams as soon as they wake. With practice and firm intention, it becomes easier to remember dreams and record the key components. Since ancient times people have been curious about what their dreams meant. Information on dream interpretation abounds in print and on the Internet, but in the final analysis, it’s your dream, and it’s your analysis that counts.

I find that journaling about a dream usually leads into writing further thoughts on the dream topic, and a page or two of this kind of freewriting often clears up ambiguities in my thinking about all sorts of things. I’m not an avid dream journaler, but I have begun to remember and record them more often and definitely recommend the process

While dream journals are not uncommon, few people take advantage of the depth and richness dreams can add to stories. Linda Joy Myers, president of NAMW (the National Association of Memoir Writers) begins her memoir, Don’t Call Me Mother, with a dream about riding on a train. That dream is a powerful image and draws readers into the story like a magnet. Linda Joy references that dream often as she develops the story, using it as a sort of metaphor for her relationship with her mother and a cornerstone of her story.

A conference speaker I heard awhile back (I wish I remembered who she was so I could give her credit), had a fascinating observation about dreams: nobody can argue with the truth of a dream because they aren’t “real” to begin with. So, she advised us, “If you have some difficult truth to tell, consider using a dream to tell it.” An audible gasp went up from the room at the thought that she was recommending fabricating dreams! Some were horrified; others were stunned at the cleverness of this solution.

Since there is no scientifically definitive explanation of what a dream is or the purpose it serves, dreams can legitimately be whatever we want or need them to be. For example, day dreams are dreams. We have hopes and dreams. So if we dream of a certain circumstance, whatever the time we envision, is that any less real as a dream? If I had any doubts before, they were resolved that day. You can always use some disclaimer like, “Did I dream that?” Or, “As I awoke, I recalled a dream about riding the train ... ." As I thought about the dream, I realized that (this certain circumstance) was a lot like that...” Or perhaps some unfolding event “took on the surreal quality of a dream...”

At the bottom line, dreams are the ideal solution for ducking disputes about the accuracy of imagination and expressing the way you wish things had been. Given the amount of time you spend having them, don’t you think your dreams deserve more attention and space in your writing?

Write now: start a dream journal or log. It doesn’t have to be fancy — a small spiral notebook, or even loose sheets of paper kept in a folder, and use a dream as the basis of a story or story segment.