Welcome back to THE WRITING CAFÉ. It’s so good to have you here.
The other day a friend shared that she went on a writing retreat but didn’t get much writing done. “I mainly walked and rested and did some thinking,” she said. Her tone suggested that she felt a bit guilty or defeated or like she hadn’t done any real work. I immediately jumped in with: “thinking is writing too,” which is what a writing friend once told me when I was starting out and beating myself up about word counts and productivity.
I’ve published seven novels and written many more: practice novels, drawer novels, and novels that didn’t find (or haven’t yet found) a place in the world.
Through crafting all those stories, I’ve learned that writing is much more complex and wide-ranging and much more of a whole mind, heart, body and spirit process, than simply pounding words out.
Of course, words do need to be written - otherwise there would be no book to share. I’m also a big believer in tracking our output and on getting words down - more on this in a future newsletter. But that’s not necessarily the first and most important thing. The alchemy that goes into making that beautiful poem or story or novel, is much richer than stringing words together. To write something true and deep and resonant for readers, there are so, so many other things that need to go into the process of making the work.
Sports metaphors are great for just about any part of being alive and a sporting metaphor applies here, too. Think of a great game you’ve seen, a great athletic performance. What you see and experience, the greatness, the final product, is just a narrow part of what’s led to that moment. What led to this moment was a careful calibration of exercise routines and strength building and nutrition and physio and mental preparation and rituals and routines and habits.
To make a great work - to write - we need to take long walks, we need to do a lot of thinking, we need to tune into the world and into ourselves and so, in this sense, the most important thing we need to do, to write, is to listen. Natalie Goldberg, whose landmark book, Writing Down the Bones, I’m reading again, says that:
“Writing, too, is ninety percent listening. You listen so deeply to the space around you that it fills you, and when you write, it pours out of you…Listening is receptivity. The deeper you can listen, the better you can write. You take in the way things are without judgement, and the next day you can write the truth about the way things are.”
Natalie Goldberg, Writing Down the Bones, p52-53
This ties in with Rick Rubin’s book on creativity: The Creative Act: A Way of Being (which is wonderful, by the way and kept me creatively alive last year). Rubin makes a case for art being the way we show up in the world, how we live, rather than simply what we produce. Great art is produced from a human being deeply engaged with the world.
“We tend to think of the artist’s work as the output. The real work of the artist
is a way of being in the world.”
Rick Rubin, The Creative Act: A Way of Being
And that way of being in the world involves deep listening, deep observation, deep thinking, deep conversations. It involves moving our bodies through the world in a mindful way, which is why I see walking as part of my writing process. It’s about learning to fall in love, over and over again, with what is before us, even if it’s hard, because I also believe that we can’t write about what we don’t, on some level, love.
So the cultivation of our whole selves is the work of a writer. And if we’ve spent a day working on that cultivation but haven’t written a word, we’ve still been writing. Fertilising the earth. Turning it over to give it some air. Lifting our faces to notice where the sun falls. So that when the seed is ready to sprout and when the plant grows into something recognisable and beautiful and ready to gift to others, it will nourish.
I think we all know when we’re reading books by authors who have invested in their souls, in their creative selves, in their way of being in the world, and not just in their wordcount. It’s what makes us fall in love with their stories and with them a little too.
So, this week, think about the ways in which you're writing, which isn’t putting words on the page. Then trust that you are doing important work.
Writing Prompt
I follow
, both here in Substack and on Instagram. During the pandemic she started a lovely community called The Isolation Journals and shared weekly prompts to inspire us to go deeper into ourselves. Here is one she shared this week, inspired by Jericho Brown’s poem, The Trees, from his Pulitzer winning poetry collection, The Tradition.It’s about loving things despite their flaws - perhaps because of their flaws. It’s about, as Suleika wrote, ‘holding space for the imperfect.’
Prompt 279. #theisolationjournals
Write about something you love anyway. Something imperfect that you value in spite of - maybe because of - its flaws.
Inspired by ‘The Trees’ by Jericho Brown
I love the idea of mining into what we ‘love anyway.’
Here’s the whole poem if you want to take it deeper:
The Trees by Jericho Brown
In my front yard live three crape myrtles, crying trees
We once called them, not the shadiest but something
During a break from work in the heat, their cool sweat
Falling into us. I don't want to make more of it.
I'd like to let these spindly things be
Since my gift for transformation here proves
Useless now that I know everyone moves the same
Whether moving in tears or moving
To punch my face. A crape myrtle is
A crape myrtle. Three is family. It is winter. They are bare.
It's not that I love them
Every day. It's that I love them anyway.
Adapt the writing prompt
As always, you can easily write this from the point of view of a character you’re working on. What do they ‘love anyway’?
Recommendations for:
Your writer’s soul. Go on a listening walk.
No headphones. No conversation. Walk slowly. Breathe deep. And listen. Let the sounds of the world fill you up and nourish your imagination. Although I love walking in the woods to do this, I know, from my cosmopolitan friends, that walking through a city like this can be deeply enriching too.
(I took a beautiful listening walk with my little ones, to what we call the Pooh Stick Bridge, not far from our house. It’s been raining and snowing so much that the river was rushing by fast: it filled our senses. We came home so energised.)
Nourishing your appreciation of language: Poetry Unbound Podcast by Pádraig Ó Tuama
When you’re not on a listening walk, put those headphones in and listen to this glorious podcast. I feel like I’ve gone to church, the best church in the world, when I’ve heard Pádraig Ó Tuama with his beautiful Irish voice, reciting a poem and unpicking it for us in his wise, interesting way. If you’re feeling stressed or overwhelmed, it’s a great way of finding a moment of calm and stillness.
Calming your nervous system through breathwork: Box Breathing.
I’ve just completed a 7 day writing and meditation challenge with Nadia Colburn and before every writing session she teaches us a breathing technique. It’s a great way of stilling the mind and body and of opening yourself up to whatever ideas are ready to offer themselves to you. She reminded me of Box Breathing, which I’ve done with students before. I gather that they teach this to Navy Seals to use in pressured situations. It’s super easy and effective:
◻️Imagine a square box.
◻️Start in the bottom left hand corner.
◻️Breathe to the count of four, in through your nose, imagining yourself going up the left hand wall of the square.
◻️Now hold your breath for the count of four as make your way along the top line of the square.
◻️Release your breath to the count of four, also through your nose, as you make your way down the right hand side of the square.
◻️ Hold your breath along the bottom line of the square.
◻️Then start again. Do a few rounds of this until you feel your mind and body coming together reaching a point of stillness.
A quotation to chew over this week:
An encouragement to walk, as part of our creative work, by my namesake, Virginia Woolf.
“Oh, the joy of walking! I’ve never felt it so strong in me…the trance like, swimming, flying through the air; the current sensation and ideas; and the slow but fresh change of hill, of road, of colour: all this churned up into a fine thin sheet of perfect calm and happiness.”
Virginia Woolf
Thank you for reading along. Let me know what inspired you and what you’d like to see more of. I love reading your comments. And if you enjoyed my newsletter, do consider sharing it with a friend or restocking it.
With love and keep writing!
Virginia 🤍
Coming up next week:
A little insight into how I store my creative ideas - there are quite a few places and techniques I used, including one inspired by one of my favourite authors, Anne Tyler. Along with, of course, my usual recommendations, writing prompts, encouragement and inspiration. I do hope you’ll join me again.
“Thinking is writing too.” YES. Without all those hours spent staring out the window while brainstorming and scribbling ideas in a notebook, there would be no written novel. The thinking is such a crucial part of the process. Great post!
Gorgeous perspective Virginia and so so true. Excited for the poetry podcast!