Learning to write: lessons from S-o-p-h-i-e

I was greeted this morning by a yell that was beyond exuberant. It thrilled like this:

“Mama J! I can write my name!”

And indeed, she had. Without copying someone else’s letters or asking which letter came next. Sophie did it all on her own.

“When I was a baby, I couldn’t write. But now I can.” She told me.

After she’d written her name about 50 more times, she looked at me and said purely, “I’m so proud of myself that I can write.”

I hear you, baby girl. I totally get that.

I’ve been watching her process and progress with this writing thing for the last few months, totally fascinated. Here’s what I’ve noticed.

1. This thing is a gusher. Yes, we’ve been reading to her since she was in the womb. Yes, she’s always loved books and stories and songs. Yes, she seems to have massive amounts of my DNA. But suddenly, in the last two months, something has been unleashed. When the time is right, the learning and understanding steamroll, snowball, avalanche, whatever you want to call it. Suffice it to say, it all comes together—in a rush. She sees letters and words and the sounds they make everywhere. She’s constantly discovering and tying the pieces together in her mind.
2. Letters, Words and Content: They’re everywhere. The radio in my Subaru flashes the singer, song title and radio station across its display systematically. One morning, on our way to preschool, Sophie shouted, “I see my letter! I see my letter!” I’m looking at the trees we’re driving by, thinking, there’s an S hanging off a branch? Only to discover that she’s pointing at the ‘S’ in Single Ladies.
3. Mantras help. When I write something in my head and have absolutely and tragically nowhere to write it down, I repeat it over and over in my head—like a mantra—cementing and sealing it into my brain so I won’t forget. So it was really no surprise that Soph created a little ditty (to the tune of the cha cha to be perfectly honest). The lyrics are simple: s-o-p-h-I-E. There’s a nearly imperceptible hipshake to the right on the ‘I’ and to the left on the ‘E’. She walks around chanting. With emphasis.
4. Make it your own. Now that she knows how to spell, my dad decided to teach her how to play tic-tac-toe. Besides the moment when she told him (after winning the first game), “Now it will be your turn to win”, my favorite slice of the game playing was when my dad made the first ‘X’ and sophie decided, on her turn, to make a ‘J’. He, of course, made another ‘X’, and then she made an ‘S’. He taught her a game, yes, but he had also given her several boxes to fill with her beloved letters. And dammit, she was going to fill them as she saw fit. It was her turn, after all.
5. Enlisting the troops. And, just in case seeing your name spew from your own mouth and pen isn’t enough, there are always your lackeys. In Sophie’s case, it’s her little brother. Just 7.5 months younger, my little guy’s primed and ready. And she’s taken full advantage. First, she convinced him that his name is spelled J-e-c-k instead of J-a-c-k. (I’m not clear on her motivation here.) But more importantly, if you ask him how to spell virtually any word other than his name, he replies, ‘S-o-p-h-i-e’.

That’s right, Soph. Find the words, write them proudly and spread the gospel far and wide.

Writing with brains in our hearts, writing with brains in our guts

This, I’m guessing, is not news to you: When your heart breaks, you actually feel the pain in your chest. And when you are in love, your heart swells, pounds, aches…to burst—the physical sensation is acute. And when you’re nervous or excited or you just have a ‘feeling’ about something…you actually ‘feel it’ in your gut. And while any of those (and any number of other) scenarios are happening, your head churns—analyzing, dissecting, scrutinizing, breaking it down.

This, however might be news to you: Apparently, the heart has its own independent nervous system with at least forty thousand cells that are the same as the ones found in parts of the brain. (Though I think I’ve met a few people with far less.) And the gut has a brain, known as the enteric nervous system (ENS), that lives in the lining of the esophagus, stomach, small intestine and colon.

Yes, people, we have three brains.

A few years ago, I heard a lecture about this phenomenon. And I have to say, it blew my mind a little. Because, for the most part, I’d been encouraged to think things through logically (follow your head) and not rely so much on my feelings (not your heart). I’d rarely followed that advice, mind you (I think Cancers are incapable)—but now I was I learning that the source of these irresistible, and often overpowering, feelings of the heart and the gut are actually of the brain.

And while my brain was a little taken aback by the competition and the being-put-in-its-place-ness of this information, my heart and my gut sounded off a loud, ‘ah HA!’ They knew they’d been right and worthy and valuable all along. Of course.

Using all three brains

When we write, or create in any way, we access all three points. Though some more than others, right? It’s clear to me when I’m writing primarily with my head as opposed to my heart or as opposed to my gut—I can see pretty clearly how that collaborative scale is tips. Can you?

Because they’re all necessary. In their own ways, the head, heart and gut work together to help us birth ideas and form words. Perhaps our head brain gives us organization, spelling and analysis. Our heart brain coats and stuffs our writing with feeling and consciousness. And our gut brain gives us drive and serves as a compass, pointing us in the direction we need to go.

And so it is that our readers don’t just read our words. But they feel them too. We make them cry and fume and crack up. And we guide them to motivation and change, deep realization and action.

The connector

I don’t know if you’ve ever noticed, but I’m very aware of how often I use the word ‘and’. I start sentences and paragraphs with it all the time, regardless of whether it’s ‘right’ or not. I pop it in often when I write here on this blog. Sometimes, my head brain wants me to simmer down and chides me for this conjunctive enthusiasm—but my heart brain tells me, passionately, that it feels right to use it and my gut brain tells me, pointedly, to go with it.

It’s how I talk, it’s how I write and, I think, it’s how I connect my three brains: head and heart and gut.

Image credit: helgasm

That feeling…when you just KNOW.

Last spring, just before my mom joined us to be SuperNana for the summer, she told me she was ready for a new dog. We’ve always been a big dog family, and it had been way too long since my parents had one messing up in their house.

So, like any good daughter, I dragged myself, kicking and screaming to visit a litter of 5 week-old chocolate and black lab puppies. I know, it was a hardship.

I picked out the most perfect little girl. My mom arrived, we got to have a puppy all summer and then they left, heading back to St. Louis…until a few weeks ago – when a much bigger puppy came back for a long visit. Knowing how mothers and daughters love each other so, my mom really wanted to take Annie (the pup) back to see Katie (her mom).

The first 20 minutes was mayhem. There were a few other dogs there and everyone was just running and playing and barking and being all dog like.

And then, it happened. Something clicked for Katie. She grabbed Annie by the back of the neck, rolled her down on the ground and proceeded to sniff every single thread of fur on her body. Annie, who – I swear to God never stops moving – remained motionless on the ground for the duration if this sniffestigation.

I’m with you Katie. When you know you know. It grabs hold of you. It’s the sweet spot on the tennis racket. It’s fresh baked sourdough bread with a inch-high gob of deep-yellow butter on top. It’s meeting someone that feels like home.

It’s how I feel when I’m writing something really good. It’s like the idea grabs my mind and my fingertips and pulls me down a pipeline of bliss. Heart pounding, mind thrumming, I literally can’t get the words out the door fast enough. But still, I manage to sniff every single one of them before I let them go.

Crystal balls, English accents and tea leaves

It’s hard for me to write a post that mentions my neighbor (let’s call her Mary – because she’s a far, far cry from the virgin mother) without including a picture. But I do want to keep her anonymity. So, I’m linking you to the ‘Shoes’ video since she dressed up like that girl (or guy?) for Halloween. 1. I think it will help you get the point of how wacky she is, and 2. She looked exactly like him/her. Exactly.

I will tell you however, because it’s her most intense feature (besides the fact that she smells like hooch and incense) that her real hair is huge and long and sometimes black or brown or red or yellow and curly. Kinky, ‘fro-like curly. It’s intense – and I think its existence is a pure extension of the creativity and juiciness that lives underneath – you know, in her head.

But, anyway…the other day ‘Mary’ came over to tell us that she’d had her tea leaves read. She was at a crossroads of some sort, so she went for some psychic capitulation. I’m a fairly nice person, but this sort of crap is something that I usually mock, make fun of and roll my eyes at. But, there was something about Mary’s recap that caught my attention, like a hook in a fish cheek.

• The accuracy with which the Tea Reader nailed Mary’s situation?
• Mary’s total confidence in herself and her path as a result of the reading?
• The fact that she ended her retelling to us with, “And the tea leaf reader has an English accent, so you have to believe her.”

And, so, I called and made an appointment. Yes. Yes, I did. And I only felt a tad bit silly, until my dear friend, Sarah, said to me, “divination is just another opportunity for you to access what you already know.” And that made sense to me. You know how you could give 100 people – all very different – the same horoscope and they would easily make it ‘like totally apply’? We all know our stories like the back of our hands – and when a psychic, a crystal ball or tea leaves tell us things – it simply gives us a new perspective with which to explore the things we’ve already been going round and round about.

So, what did I learn at my tea leaf reading?

• Nothing new. Which is good news – because it means that I wasn’t brainwashed or high-jinxed or duped. Still, some of my ideas and thoughts (that I habitually swat away on a regular basis), were raised into the spotlight and deeply affirmed.
• My muse is not the woman I always assumed her to be, but a man from the 1100′s, waving scrolls at me, telling me to write for the good of the people – to educate, guide and support those in need. Oh, and he has a pet falcon.
• And, yes, it’s true. British accents really do something to and for us Yanks.

Image Credit: Jodi Green

Just write it down, that’s all I’m sayin’…

Last week, when I mentioned ‘How-to Write’ books and how they all contain a specific bit of storytelling advice, it reminded me of something else they all tell us to do. Which is: to capture every thought, no matter how small in a notebook of some kind. To fill ‘em up.

I’m bad at writing in notebooks. But I’m not bad at writing in WordPress, apparently. I noticed today that I have 113 (that’s one hundred and thirteen) drafts saved in the backend of this blog (and, yes, I do backup). By golly, that feels like quite a few. Quite a few nuggets waiting to become full posts or books or articles or digital hogwash in my trash bin.

Makes me feel a bit rich, to be honest. Like I have a full tank of gas in reserve, should this main nozzle run dry.

Are you saving your thoughts? Storing them away in case a long hard winter should happen to befall you? How? Where?

…or, for those of you cringing, shaking your head or possibly cursing, why not?

Image credit: Gwen’s River City Images

22 lbs. 5 ozs.

“But, wasn’t it just luck?” Me, being obtuse.

That was my absurd response to the fact that a man in Japan might recently have broken a 80 year old record by catching the largest large mouth bass in the world, and the fact that he is now world famous. The old record was 22 lbs. 4 ozs., his fish weighed 22lbs. 5 ozs. That’s a lotta fish!

I was sitting quite comfortably on a plane yesterday. Yes, in coach, but oddly, in a spacious seat with enough leg room that I couldn’t even reach the seat in front of me with my feet. Yes, I do have short everything legs, but still. My next-seat neighbor was a kind, sweet southern gentleman who happens to be a superbly talented bass fisherman disguised as an investment banker. His name is Kerry Jordan, and he’s going to become the Tiger Woods of fishing come April, 2010 – just you watch.

I can only imagine his thoughts as he looked at me, after I said this, with laughing and incredulous eyes and said, “Nooooo…there’s some science involved. And some art.” He began to list about a million ways that a fisherman would go about finding that biggest fish:

• Knowing the fish’s preferred habitat
• Finding out what they eat
• Fish weight trends in specific waters
• How they react to climate, different seasons, different times of the day
  Preferred baits
• …the list goes on and on and on

Oh right. How easy it is for a neophyte to think it’s luck. That a skilled fisherman, in this case, doesn’t have technique, skill or strategy, but just happened to drop his line in the right lake at the right time.

I even forget this about myself occasionally. I’m so used to my writing practice at this point that when people ask me what my method is, I’ll often say things like, “I just sit down at my computer and it comes spilling out.”

It feels like that, but only because the science, and the art, of it is as natural to me as walking – it’s a complicated process, but years of practice have turned it into something that my body can do without my mind even having to be involved. But, I do need to become familiar with the habitat of the ‘fish’ I’m trying to catch, its instincts and motivations, what it likes to eat and how it operates in this world.

Sometimes the story, the article, the post, the client is the fish. And sometimes the fish I’m trying to catch…is me.

Image credit: Courier Post Online (FYI, that is not a picture of Kerry Jordan, though this fisherman is adorable, too.)

Change of a blog.

I have a torrent of cliches raining down on me right now:

• Change is good
• Change is inevitable
• All good things must come to an end
• Times they are a’changin’…

Are you as nauseous as me?

This blog has been alive now for over a year and half…and it’s literally become my favorite place to be. When I log into the back end to write, it’s with a greater joy, comfort and anticipation than I’ve ever had from writing – even with the most beautiful of journals. I used to seek out and collect cool journals, like new toys, each one more unique and perfect than the next. As I picked up my newest find, felt the cover under my fingertips and flipped through the pages, I’d be sure that this time, this journal would surely make me write.

It never did. It didn’t matter if the pages were lined or blank, if the book held inspirational quotes or pictures, if the cover was smooth or textured. I rarely ever wrote more than a few pages in a journal.

But here, I write. I talk, I share, I meet wonderful people, I grow, I learn. From the moment I opened this journal, I’ve never wavered in my dedication. I’m guessing that that’s why so much has changed.

When I started this blog, my goal was to use it as a tool to build my business. I focused on copywriting, marketing and social media, and the posts were on the educational/informational side with lots of how-to’s and the like. I was focused on my tags and keywords and all of that. My content reflected the places I wanted to be seen and hired.

And, don’t get me wrong. I practiced what I still preach to my clients because it works. Finding my own voice, writing about topics that I wanted to be organically found for and utilizing social media sites like Twitter, did just what I wanted them to. They helped me find an incredible audience of readers and commenters, raised my place on Google search pages and helped me grow my business.

But lately…I’m just not as interested in writing about those topics. I’m much more interested in writing about writing (creative, marketing, blog writing – all of it) and its process. Have you noticed? I have. On the one hand, I feel bad, like I’m shirking my duties or something. And because I’m in heaven writing about writing, I feel like a spoiled child getting her allowance even though she hasn’t done the dishes in weeks.

But, on the other hand, how many times have I talked about the crucial importance of writing about your passions? That’s what I’m doing. I might lose some readers as my subject matter changes, but I’m likely to gain some new ones as well.

Which brings me to another interesting point. You can’t tell anyone this, okay? Because it’s like breaking the blogger’s code or something. And I don’t want the equivalent of the Blogger Volturi coming to get me. Here’s the thing: bloggers are addicted to stats. I used to check my stats obsessively every day. I read into them like a psychic with Tarot cards. But now, I rarely check. Somehow, I’ve fallen off the stats wagon. I’ve literally broken the shackles that used to pull at me, cutting into my brain…

…and I’m just writing this blog for the sheer joy of writing.

It’s all connected and it will stay that way – because writing is writing is writing. There are just so many parts of it to explore as I live it – this writing life. Just consider yourself forewarned that I can’t stop following my heart around this blog.

Image credit: tomswift46

Excuses, Excuses

Do you have something you’ve been waiting to write? (or simply do, for that matter) – but, you just haven’t done it yet? We’re talking about personal writing here, not client copywriting. (Because if you’re not doing your client work then you’re just a big procrastinator!)

I’m curious to hear your excuses. Why haven’t you done it? What’s holding you where you are? And while I wait for your responses, I’ll fill you in on my own neuroses…

What is it that holds me back?

1. Time. This is probably the easiest excuse – because you get to pretend you’re selfless. I don’t have time now because I have to do my paying work to support myself or my family. I don’t have time now because my children are young. I don’t have time now because I’m on the board of this or I have to clean the house or I have a sick parent to care for…

2. Self-loathing. (don’t look at me like that) Who am I to deserve the chance to write or to be happy or to be great?

3. I can’t…for whatever reason. When I tell myself that, it’s all over. Only I can really shut that gate…and keep it closed.

4. This isn’t just about me. What will people think if I’m actually a success? How will I fit into my life? Won’t I make other people feel bad about themselves if I ‘win’??? (Okay that last one is hilarious to see in print…)

5. What if I can’t stop? Yes, I’ve actually struggled with this. What if I start writing and I can’t stop. What if I finally open the floodgates and I drown in this flow of words? How will I live my life if my fingers are actually bound to my keyboard?

6. What if I do stop? What if I start and it’s going really well – but then I have to sleep or eat or go to the bathroom and I can’t get it back again. Is there one time in my life when it will be safe to start because I won’t be interrupted…by life? Will I be able to get it all down?

7. What if someone reads it? And then they see into my brain and my heart. They’ll see everything – oh, the raw exposure.

8. Fear of the bad. Why should I start when the end result will probably suck? This excuse masquerades as self-preservation. I don’t want to write because if it’s bad, it will be mortifying and I’ll have wasted so much precious time – when I probably should have been doing something else more worthy and productive.

9. Fear of the good. What if it’s really good? What if I’m actually successful? What if this fulfills me? What if I’m actually happy?

Okay, I spilled it – all of my ridiculous and crap-filled roadblocks – it’s your turn now. And if you’re worried about sharing too much, go read this and then come back…I’ll wait.

The following quote was a focal point of the 500 hours of yoga teacher training that I did in the early 2000′s – it seems apropos here. Come to think of it, it seems like it should be tattooed on my brain. Enjoy…

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It’s not just in some of us; it’s in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.” ~Marianne Williamson

Image credit: whizchickenonabun

What’s your process?

I’ve had the opportunity over the last few days to discuss my writing process at length – specifically my process of writing for other people. I talked to interviewers, friends, clients and writers-to-be…

One of those times, the conversation was with a brilliant photographer named Randi Baird. I was asking her about her process of documentation through pictures for a presentation she’s giving. I listened to her talk and wrote this from our exchange:

I marinate in the ideas before I photograph for an article; then, I illustrate the author’s words. Working with chefs, the ingredients become the colors, tools, shapes, textures within an image. Documenting a family, the ingredients are the personalities, the ages, the setting, the history. In each case, we all benefit from collaboration, communication, the strengths of our individual visions…and their fusion.

After she read it, she said, “You’re really good!” And I said, “No you are…you said it!!!” True, I wordsmithed it. But it was her energy, personality, intention, words and phrasing that served as the ingredients for writing the piece.

Here’s my process:

1. Meet with my client in person or on the phone for an hour or two and ask them tons of questions. Making it easy, natural, conversational.

2. Listen to them talk about themselves, their business, industry, goals, mission, philosophy.

3. Hear the words and phrasing that they use and the way that they talk – inflections, emphasis, accent, colloquialisms, industry-isms.

4. Marinate in all of this…especially their personality, energy, essence, je ne sais quoi…

5. Take notes, audio or video record – whatever it takes.

6. Find out what information needs to be relayed and to what audience. I like to do this oftentimes in the form of questions. And I ask the client directly for an answer – let them share their expertise.

7. I answer the questions, solve problems, inform and illustrate in the copy I create.

8. When writing as a ghostwriter / marketing writer, it’s like being an actor in a play – I become the character, channel their voice…and deliver.

What’s your process?

Image credit: Chotda

The Un-Plan

When I was in grade school, fifth or sixth grade, I remember many nights of planning out what I was going to wear the next day. I’d pick outfits that were going to look ever so suave.

And without fail, every single time I wore one of these outfits, I was miserable. I have no idea if I looked cute or not – but I felt terrible. The clothes were too tight or too long or too fitted or too not at all me.

As I got older, I did this less and less. I know for a fact that by high school, these occasions were rare. My senior year, I never left my house unless I was comfortable – it was my thing. My parents thought I looked like a slob…but I was very cool in thrift store jeans, my big brother’s t-shirt and my Birkenstocks – let me tell ya.

Let’s be clear – I’m not a planner. To this day, when I get dressed in the morning, I’m led almost purely by my desire for comfort, barely by social doctrine. I learned that lesson well and it stuck. I look into my closet and pull out the first thing that looks like it’ll feel good. Then I look for what’ll feel good with that…and on and on…until I’m dressed.

The result isn’t always glamorous – but, lo and behold, it usually works out just fine, feels divine and sometimes still involves old jeans and perfectly worn t-shirts (and flip flops, I gave my Birks up years ago along with my Grateful Dead singing, VW bus driving, toe ring wearing, hippie boyfriend).

I write like I dress. I’m not a planner. I get an idea that feels good and I follow it to the next idea and the next idea and the…. You get the picture. And the project gets written.

And just like with my wardrobe, this ‘un-plan’ usually works out…

About five years ago, I was at the home of one of my all time favorite yoga/spiritual writers, Stephen ‘Kavi’ Cope. (If you are even remotely interested in growing yourself as a human, read his Yoga and the Quest for the True Self, you need not be into yoga to have your head implode and your life change to benefit from this book). Kavi was working on his second book, and in his office, taped all around the room at eye level, was a looooong strip of paper that contained a dramatic time line. It was the blueprint for his book.

It was detailed, it was the solution to a puzzle, it was magnificent. And all he had to do was color it in and stay inside the lines – and then he’d have his book.

“This is why I don’t write novels,” I said, wearily taking it all in.

Fast forward to today. I’m writing one [a novel, did I tell you that?] And I do have an outline. It doesn’t look like Kavi’s, but it’s not quite as follow your bliss as my usual writing. It’s more like a dimly lit path with guideposts so I don’t get lost. I know I need the plan, but I also need to trust and follow the way that I write best. Er, that would be, flying by the seat of my most comfortable pants.

Image courtesy of lifecreations