Category: joy

Happy New Year

                                 

The Christmas lights are put away, the extra treats have all been consumed (in rather alarming quantities this year) and my 2025-day book is open and ready to be marked up. Yes, I still like a physical planner, in spite of the fact that I also keep track of deadlines and appointments on my phone.

A number of my friends choose a word of the year. Doing this encourages them to think carefully about what they want to focus on over the coming months and how to bring their values into alignment with that goal. I’ve never done it but I thought it might be fun. Instead of coming up with my own word, however, I decided to toss it out to the universe.  So, I found this on line:   http://wordoftheyear.me/

 I clicked …and laughed. The word I got? Invest. I don’t have the means or the knowledge to invest. I also have (what some would call) an alarming lack of interest in anything deeply financial. I’m not talking about the daily necessities of paying bills, tracking expenses, balancing accounts. I do that with ease. But the investment side of life, how financial markets work, that kind of thing, leaves me cold. In fact, just this morning, and before I chose my word, I was reading an article on politics and I came across a new-to-me phrase ‘the financialization of housing in Canada.’ I had no idea what it meant and had to look it up.

So, the word invest didn’t resonate. At least not at first. But then I thought about the multiple ways I could invest. Virtually every single one of them involved that most precious of commodities: time. I could invest time in myself (my health, my self-care). In others (family, friends, colleagues). In various art forms (writing being one). In my garden (doing my small bit to care for the Earth). And I could also find the time to invest in joy (laughing and savoring the simple things in life).

Hmm.

Maybe there is something to choosing a word of the year. I’m thinking carefully now about how I will invest my time and energy this year. And I’m reminding myself that there’s more to life, to people, to words, than the first thing that pops to mind.

Happy New Year!

The Joy Factor

Last month I was lucky enough to take an all-day online workshop from Laurie Schnebly Campbell. Campbell, an Arizona writer and workshop facilitator, spent a few hours talking about how to put the joy back in writing. Her take is that writers sometimes lose that joy in the pursuit of publication. Being creative for the sake of creating is fun, but being tied to results can undermine joy.

It’s hard not to be tied to results. When I go into the kitchen to bake a loaf of bread, I expect I’ll end up with something close to edible. After I finish writing today, I’m going out to the garden to plant garlic. Come next summer I expect to be harvesting. I know intellectually that something might go sideways. There could be a power outage just when I get the bread into the oven or weather (or wildlife!) that negatively impacts my garlic harvest, but for the most part I anticipate positive results.

For a writer, positive results equate getting published. But they don’t have to.

A few days after the Campbell workshop, I had a phone catch up with a good friend, a fellow writer who recently lost her mother. Very soon after her mother passed away, a story idea took hold and she began to write. The idea excited her, the distraction from ‘real life’ was a bonus and she found herself being carried away by the story itself, and nothing more. The joy in the writing was propelling her forward in a way it hadn’t for a very long time. She wasn’t giving any thought to outcomes. In her words, she had no idea if the story would ever see publication and that didn’t matter. For her, the joy was in the doing. In the same way a violinist or any kind of musician takes joy in creating lovely music.

That was precisely Laurie Schnebly Campbell’s point. So, how do we get to the place where we aren’t caught up in the results, where joy is our fuel?

Here are some take away suggestions from the workshop.

Write something new. Write poetry instead of prose or a mystery instead of mainstream fiction.

Fill the well away from the keyboard/take some time away from writing.

Write to music that moves you.

Keep a selection of starter phrases on hand to kickstart your writing (examples: I wish I knew at the time . . . or If I’d left an hour earlier)

Go and sit somewhere with great sensory input.

Write about something you love that has nothing to do with writing.

Keep a journal.

And my personal favorite from a fellow workshop participant: “I go to the keyboard and say to myself ‘let’s just sit down and see what happens.’” In other words, she gives herself permission to play.

I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to completely give up my expectations around results. I still like knowing flowers will bloom when I plant seeds, cookies will be ready after I bake them, and books will be read after I write them. But I’ve decided to focus more on playing than striving, and to hold onto hope rather than expectations. Hope is a good thing to have these days. And for more on that, you might like to check out this blog by another writer friend of mine, Alice Valdal. https://www.alicevaldal.com/thanksgiving-2020/