
In a fews days, I fly out to teach with Elin Stebbins Waldal at our first retreat, Veritas Rustic Writing Retreat for Women. This year, our theme is on Permission.
Early on in our preparations, Elin and I divvied up the days, brainstormed ideas surrounding permission and writing and what holds us back from our own creativity. I offered to present on granting ourselves permission to fail and to succeed.
For the last several months, I’ve dogeared pages in my books, researched articles, saved links to essays; I’ve gathered perspectives and explored the ideas of failure and success.
“The most regretful people on earth are those who felt the call to creative work, who felt their own creative power restive and uprising, and gave to it neither power nor time.”
~ Mary Oliver

In that time, I’ve also been taking a closer look at my own creative aspirations, figuring out what feeds my creativity or what flattens it. I’ve sent out submissions, filed away rejections, quietly celebrated a publication here and there. I have embarked, head-on, into new adventures and wondered (…worried) what it will look like if/when I fumble and fall.
Not surprising, all my prep work to teach at this retreat is giving me insight into my own experiences in failure and success and helping realign my perceptions on permission to embrace both. Every page in a book I mark with a tab is saved for the workshop and for myself; each video I discover to share during a writing activity becomes another message from the Universe to pay attention.
Moving toward the unknown–a new story, the first lines of a difficult essay, a creative pursuit of any kind–is never easy. The journey is filled with excitement and fear, sometimes (usually) a little pain. We make mistakes–we have to make mistakes. We have tiny successes. We experience days when every action seems moot. But all of it–every rise and fall–is necessary.
“Don’t be afraid of mistakes; they tell you what you are trying that you don’t have control over. They suggest that you are venturing into new territory where you’re not yet sure what you are doing. They’re a sign that you are stretching yourself.”
~ Paul Skenazy on Brevity
What stories do you long to pursue? What creative opportunities are you pushing aside because of time, fear of failure, or what your mother would say? What is the risk in letting it pass you by? What is the risk in diving in?
Grant yourself permission; you may be surprised where the journey will lead.
Looking for online writing opportunities?
Flash Nonfiction II: Write, critique. Rinse, repeat. April 7-May 18, 2019. We meet online for 6 weeks and engage with lessons on voice, memory vs. memoir, omissions on purpose, and more. We write, we critique, we don’t stop for the inner editor. While flash nonfiction may not be your main form of writing, working on your short game improves your long. Only a few seats remain & registration closes April 4th. Read student testimonials and sign up HERE.
Study Hall: #AmWriting. Next session: April 7th, 3:30-5pm CST. Once a month we gather online to talk craft, read essays, stories, or poems. And we write write write. By the end of one session, you’ll have tackled 5 different writing prompts–and had fun! Registration is required. For the April session, sign up HERE by Friday, April 5th.



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I began transcribing the entries to share with family members, and she became real to me through her words. Who was Hattie? She loved puzzles and games, especially solitaire, and she and her husband, William, played cards often with neighbors. She recorded scores of local baseball games. She looked forward to getting the mail and reading material. She enjoyed listening to the radio, especially news programs and serials. She butchered hogs on her kitchen table. She didn’t like to garden. She tended to be stout and then fat, helped along by her fondness for food and the difficulty she had in physical movement in later years. She was keenly interested in both local and national politics and remembered the anniversary of the death of FDR every year. She seems never to have lost her humor or her sense of wonder and engagement.
National Poetry Month is off and running
“To pay attention, this is our endless and proper work.”