
As I type this, I’m sitting at a table with the teen writers I meet with weekly at the bookstore. This small but mighty group comes together every Tuesday afternoon, enjoying the camaraderie of writing in the company of others who enjoy it as much as they do.
Usually, I write alongside them. Today, as I prepare for a trip overseas, I’m scrambling to check things off my list.
My task this hour? This newsletter. Still a form of writing, to be sure.
Ah, the blank page.
My beloved.
My nemesis.
What shall I write? I have no idea.
When I go about my days, I dream of blank pages, of empty journals. More specifically, I fantasize about what filling those pages means about me: Look Ma, I’m a real writer!
But sometimes I sit down with a blank page and I freeze. That part of my brain that likes to chatter (you know the one) gets louder and more aggressive. If I’m on the computer, the cursor mocks me. If I’m holding a pen, it twitches above the paper.
Here’s what I’ve discovered: if I wait long enough, eventually something comes. But it can’t be anxious waiting, or stressful waiting, or frustrated waiting.
I have to relax into it.
While I wait, I might just put some random words on the page. (I just gave the teens 10 words from the random word generator app on my phone and said “Go.”) Maybe I start with “what do I want to write about?” Maybe I free write about how my brain is yelling at me. Or maybe I just sit there and breathe.
What I don’t do is leave.
I have a family member who struggles with verbal communication. Words often get stuck, lodged in the back of their throat, no matter how much they want to speak them. Getting frustrated, anxious, or upset only makes it worse; the only thing that helps is gentle patience (from the listener and in their own body). And sometimes it can take many minutes before the words make their way out.
The words always make their way out. It just takes the time it takes.
This is a physical manifestation of what happens to our writing sometimes. The why is perhaps less important than the result: our words just can’t emerge, no matter how badly we want them to.
All we need to do is create a gentle, patient landing pad for them…and wait.
In Case You’re Skimming…
Sometimes we are ready to write, yet the words won’t come.
Our tendency is to get frustrated or upset with ourselves and the process.
Instead, consider allowing yourself to relax into the waiting. Let it come at the pace it needs that day.
Don’t leave. Don’t leave! Stay present, and words will come eventually.
Above all, let’s not fight with our stories. They are too tender, too vulnerable, and too important. Cultivate patience, my friends.
Have a beautiful week.
Warmly,
Stephanie
P.S. I’ll be here when you’re ready.
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