Last Friday, I found myself pondering: “I’ve had more inspiring writing weeks.” When forward movement seems difficult (here’s a guilty secret) sometimes I take a break (a long break) from my work to look elsewhere for inspiration, stories of other writers who have just kept plugging along in spite of discouragement.

I want to share a treasure I found last Friday: on  Stephen Parrish’s blog I read a briefly told tale of at least a dozen rewrites of a novel that just went to press (the blog was dated March 5th).  And instead of feeling even the least twinge of envy, I saw pretty clearly that I’ve never done a dozen rewrites of an entire novel.

The Winston Churchill quotation is from Stephan’s blog, and it’s my mantra for this week.

During the recent writing retreat led by KaBooM we focused on entering our writing through the senses, and invited a visit from the muse by setting up sensory stations for participants to enjoy. We offered images and textures, and images that were textures in the form of Mary’s quilted paintings. Bells and rattles and rhythm instruments made a variety of intriguing sounds. Tastes including fresh fruit, dill pickles, chocolate, and lemon marmalade also held a wonderful aroma. Other scents, most in containers covered with plain brown paper, included:

• A tin of brown shoe polish
• Tide laundry detergent
• Rubbing alcohol
• Murphy’s Oil Soap
• Joy dishwashing liquid
• Campho-phenique
• Desitin diaper rash cream
• Lavender soap
• Homer Formby’s Tung Oil
• Garlic powder
• Almond extract
• Oregano
• Coconut extract
• Crest toothpaste
• Colgate toothpaste
• Cedar
• Herb vinegar
• Molasses

Are there associations that arise as you read these lists? Are memories stirred just by thinking about these sensations? It’s a reminder of how deeply imprinted sensory experience is.

One participant spoke of how powerfully a sensory cue brought back slices of life—enough to reshape his writing plan for the day. I too have found that certain scents do more than remind me of another time of life; they actually take me there once again and put me in touch with what I might otherwise have forgotten.

Those memories are multi-layered with all kinds of sensory information. The scent of cold cream can show us a bedroom from long ago, the sound of a school bell may evoke the scratch of a new sweater, a taste of home may place us amidst the voices of people long gone. Our deep remembering is brought to life by recalling the memories of the senses, memories carried in the body as well as the mind. Writing gains power when we put them on the page.

We encouraged everyone to explore and follow where their senses took them. It’s an experience that doesn’t end with the close of the retreat, and we invite you to take part as well.

Join members of KaBooM on February 27 from 10 am to 4 pm at the Carnegie Center for a “Saturday Writing Retreat: Try This!” We’re assuming that it’s your dream—as well as ours—to have an entire day without agenda or distraction—to have nothing to do but write, write, write.  Bring work in progress or a notebook and pen to capture new words. We’ll present invitations to write from our book, When the Bough Breaks, or you are welcome to develop or extend a piece you’ve already begun.

If you prefer working on a laptop, bring a flash drive as you’ll have access to a printer. Maximize your writing time by bringing a brown bag lunch. Day also includes time for sharing and responding.

The cost for the retreat is $100. Our goal is to make sure your well as a writer is replenished many times over, your store of words restocked and ready to go. We look forward to retreating with you!

As soon as conditions permit, I clear what’s on the ground: this causes my children, raised in Kentucky, no end of bafflement.  “Why bother?” they demand (hoping to dissuade me from insisting on their involvement in my odd behavior).  Because they asked, I delight in pointing out the advantages of my method.

Doing the work immediately means I get a sense of conditions “in the field.”  I know how the wind feels, I see up close what kind of snow this is.  Once I’m out, I notice details I’d never have seen from the window or on a quick scurry from warm house to car—the weather ceases to be just the stuff I have to slog through, and begins to present unique joys (this morning’s dusting, for example, had those large crystals that reflected jeweled light).

In addition, keeping up with the task means it’s rarely overwhelming: I live in Central Kentucky where the snowfall is never heavy.  Though my back and knees could never handle a deep snow, regular moderate effort serves me well here.

In fact, there are unexpected surprise benefits for my having simply done the work.  Yesterday, though the temperature never officially rose above freezing, the simple act of clearing what was on the ground meant that the day’s light reflected off the surrounding banks of snow and heated up the exposed drive and walks, so that by the day’s end everything was completely clear, down to the pavement.   Oh, sure, it snowed again last night, but this morning there was no accumulated, hard-packed neglect that threatens underneath this morning’s small collection.  In past snows, I’ve seen neighbors hacking away at dangerous ice once things begin to melt; our regular effort means our small plot harbors no hazards that demand such hard labor.

The analogy breaks down, of course, at many levels.  But I’m reminded that regular attention to the writing prevents despair and the feeling of defeat, and leaves the way clear for inspired discoveries to shine unencumbered.

Yet amidst the rich conversation and advice about starting something new, a companion idea pulled up a chair.

No matter how carefully we plan, a new project means acting before we fully know what we’re doing. It’s wise to gather information and plan carefully, but preparing to launch something new is not the same as learning how to do it. That happens only when we take the plunge.

There’s a limit to what we can anticipate. Situations we don’t expect will arise, surprises good and bad will appear, and we can’t iron out all the details before we begin. This isn’t exactly a revelation, but it’s easy to lose sight of when we’re doing all we can to prepare for a new endeavor.

The intention to bring something new into the world entails meeting its unknown challenges, whatever they will be. Perhaps the best advice is to have a support system of insightful people who care about the outcome. A group of friends to help deal with the obstacles keeps us moving down the road.

Join KaBooM this Saturday, February 6, at 10 a.m. at the Carnegie Center, when the members of the group discuss the challenge of “Wearing Two Hats: From Writer to Publisher.”

When KaBooM began to plan an anthology to honor the group’s tenth anniversary, we first took an inventory of what we considered our strengths: plenty of pieces of writing to choose from, editorial experience, familiarity with book design, and artistic talent.

However, we also knew that we wanted to design a new kind of anthology: high quality in appearance and in content; original in its approach; affordable to produce and to purchase; and usable by writers, teachers of writing, and students. And we had limited financial resources to contribute to the project.

Join us as we discuss the process of moving from concept to product, including seeking and writing proposals to secure grant funding, designing a book that takes advantage of both letterpress and offset methods, learning to sew individual books signatures, and creating a media presence. We’ll answer your questions about forming a group and carrying out a publishing process as well.

Our panel will end around 11:45. At noon, plan to stay to hear our friend, poet and Accents Radio Program host Katerina Stoykova-Klemer as she presents a workshop titled “Bigger than They Appear: How to Write Very Short Poems.”

These programs are offered as part of Arts Showcase Weekend. The weekend is organized by LexArts and is designed to encourage local citizens to discover ways to cultivate their creativity year-round. Please visit www.lexarts.org for the latest information.  All events are free!

P.S. Stay tuned for additional information about the Writers’ Retreat we’ll offer at the Carnegie Center on Saturday, February 27.

What usually happens for me is that the disarray of daily life comes out, with its untended details and unresolved issues. Beneath those are the more substantial concerns, which show up too. The emotional leavings of recent events filter through, self-doubt makes regular appearances, and there are the perennial issues that appear again and again in different contexts. Everything gets put on the page and released as the pen keeps moving.

As a result, my mind becomes clearer. Without the low-level noise of background thoughts it’s easier to concentrate. In sweeping out the clutter of concerns, creative space opens up. Morning pages don’t count as getting my writing work done, but they help clear the way for accomplishing what I want to do. They don’t even have to be done in the morning to be effective.

Morning pages are one way to empty ourselves in order to make room for creative work. What ways have you found to open the space within for your writing?

In fact I’m reminded again of why I swore off old-style resolutions years ago.  Gritting teeth and screwing courage may see me through a tough temporary patch but they aren’t long-term strategies that endure.  Just try holding a clenched fist for two minutes; okay, try one.  It’s exhausting.  And there’s not much you can get done with a clenched fist.  One of my favorite quotes is from Aldolfo Perez Esquival, recipient of the 1980 Nobel Peace Prize:  “We cannot sow seeds with clenched fists.  To sow we must open our hands.”  While he was talking about social justice and not writing, I am struck by his image of a fist clenched so tightly that the hand is useless for productive labor.  As a habitual  fist-clencher, this image has power for me.

So instead of trying to force myself into writing habits that I’ve heard work for other people, my goal this week is to ask myself questions that help open to discovery: what does work, today, in my particular circumstance?  How can I move from “fitting my writing in” to giving it a place of honor in my day?  And what seeds can I sow to nourish my developing discipline?

Writers need to be both artists and worker bees. We need vision and inspiration, and we also need good tools and work habits. For help with both, here are a couple of excellent websites:

Lisa Sonora Beam writes about Goal Setting for Creatives, with pictures of her own gorgeous planning journal for inspiration.

On Zen Habits, Leo Babauta has a terrific post about cultivating new habits. He also introduces his new site dedicated to helping with keeping those resolutions for the new year, called 6changes.

May you have a happy, inspired, and productive New Year!

It’s a season of grand celebration and then hunkering down. Not a bad pairing. I’m glad for the holiday lights that see us through these darkest days, but once they’re put away I welcome the most introspective time of the year.

As the world grows quiet, it allows the deep listening needed for creative work. Ideas and images have a chance to surface. The subtle stirrings of the imagination have room to take shape.

To prepare for those fertile days, it helps to consider what we’re listening for. What are we processing from the world around us? What is within us that seeks expression? What are we challenged to interpret? How will we act on what comes to our attention?

For the next few days, try to frame the question you want to ask about where your work is going. Then when things settle down after the holidays, listen for the answer.

One of the questions for me has been, “Where is the energy in my writing life, where is it leading me, and what form do I want to be working in?” Ok, that’s three questions. No matter.

What kinds of questions are you asking?