I sit next to my laptop on my lunch break as I’m working from home. I’ve decided to use this break to work through some Hope*Writers teachings, as I’m longing to bring back my pre-Corona writing habits. I’ll use this little window of opportunity intentionally instead of scrolling instagram. I am so mature.
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This post is for my new friends joining me in Hope*Writers. If that’s not you or if you have no interest in writing, you can probably skip over this post. I just needed a place to save these tips to send my new writer friends. If you’re interested in Hope*Writers though, go here for more info and reach out to me directly with any questions you have!
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One of the main concepts that I’ve thought back on from the Hope*Writers Conference, came from co-founder Gary Morland. He told the story of baking a wonderful dinner for your friends and pulling it from the oven. The smell fills the room and you’re so proud of the masterpiece that you’ve created in your kitchen. Then, you look around and wonder where your friends are. Why aren’t they here to eat your magnificent dinner? They’re not here, because you didn’t invite them.
I’m home from my first writing conference and I’ve had several people say that they can’t wait to see what came of it. Me too, guys. Me too.
At first I felt a little disappointed that I didn’t come home with some big announcement or revelation. (A little about that here.) I’d secretly hoped that I’d develop a vision of what’s next at this conference, even if it was just a tiny glimpse into the future. I didn’t think I’d announce the title of my first book, though I did intend to have at least an idea of what the next project might be. If I’m honest with you all, I still don’t know what’s next.
I open up my laptop at my little writing desk for the first time. I set up this little corner of my living room shortly after joining Hope*Writers, over a month ago. One of their first tips was to create a space where you write, and though I’ve heard that for years, I haven’t ever followed the advice. The couch is simply much more comfortable and required very little effort on my part. As I think more about this, the couch was also less threatening. If I wrote from the couch and nothing ever came of it, that wouldn’t be a failure. I don’t have to say “I’m a writer” from the couch. Creating a space for writing meant there was more at stake.
I’m lying here in bed, desperate to fall asleep. I’m supposed to be at the gym in just a few hours, awake enough to successfully step onto a box holding heavier dumbbells than I ever have before. What an appropriate name for those, by the way. Dumb…bells.
It feels like it’ll be hours before I fall asleep. So much is running through by cluttered little mind. My head has felt extra full lately and I attribute some of that to not reserving time for this, for writing out my thoughts. I’ve learned over the years that this is how I process things. Both big and small, significant and trivial. All of the things in my world make more sense when I spill out some words on a page, just like this. Lately, I’ve not done this.
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I’ve been quiet lately. I haven’t made my regular Monday & Thursday posting on the blog and I haven’t even been writing bits and pieces on my phone. Usually, even when the blog is quiet, I’m still writing things. I’m just not sharing them. Lately, however, there’s been nothing. Zilch.
