Easter morning and it feels like Spring is actually here in Maine. Time to begin shaking out the contracted, drawn-in energy that has kept us warm through the long white winter. Time to move and stretch and bend and loosen. Time to freshen our approach to the mornings of our days.

How do you begin your day?  Do you have a routine that sets the tone for the day before you step into it?  Being the creative soul that you are, perhaps it might be beneficial to create one or to revisit and refresh the one you already have?

Just for fun, here’s a little ditty that demonstrates how simple it can be:

Morning Ritual

I awaken, but don’t rise.
I lie breathing with closed eyes.
Breathing in, I take in peace.
Breathing out, all cares release.

Simply breathing, in and out.
Breathing simply, out and in.
Simply breathing, in and out.
Breathing simply once again.

Stretch my body, still in bed.
Clear the cobwebs from my head.
My intention for this day:
to be present, come what may.

I place my feet upon the floor, but
don’t go rushing out the door.
I pause a moment in the NOW.
Hands to heart, I humbly bow.

In the kitchen, I’m alone.
Time to set a peaceful tone.
At the table, set my place,
light a candle, welcome Grace.

Thankful for this morning tea.
Thankful for this time for me.
Thankful for this sacred space
amid my often hectic pace.

I take my pen and start to write.
No time to think, or get it “right.”
No time to ask what it’s about.
Just let it flow. Just get it out.

… My morning pages now are done,
not meant to share with anyone.
My hand’s now loose, my mind’s now clear.
I’m now present, fully here.

No matter what may come my way
as now I step into my day,
I know I’m centered in my heart
because I gave my day this start …

Breathing in, I rest awhile …
Breathing out, I simply smile …

Okay, so this won’t win any poetry prizes, but it’s light and airy and has the sing-songey rhythm I was looking for. It’s in keeping with my uplifted state on this Spring morning.  It’s just what I needed to make my point. And so, I’m happy with it.

Uplifted and enlivened, that’s how I intend to step into each day.  As a writer and creative, I intend to make choices that best support my wish to engage fully, richly, and deeply with this incredible life I’ve been given — one glorious day at a time.

So, how do you begin your day?  Is your morning routine supportive of the creative life you wish for yourself?  Care to share a brief description of your morning ritual? …

A friend, discouraged and feeling pressured to justify her writing time, recently said to me, “Maybe I’m just not a serious writer.”

What does it mean to be a “serious writer,” anyway? Is it about how often one writes? Is it about whether or not one earns a living at writing? Is it about whether or not one is published? Or, is it simply tied to one’s ability to self-identify as “writer?”

The question of how serious she is can only be answered by her. I suspect she’s in a place of doubt and disillusionment just now. I suspect her confidence is flagging. I suspect she could use some encouragement from an agent or publisher; or, better yet, a voice from the heavens saying, “The world awaits your stories.”  Maybe she just needs a friend to say,”The process – the act of creation – is the only thing that matters. That is the only measure of time well spent. So step into that space wherein you lose yourself in the story and the writing of it. Step into it daily, if you can. Honor your gifts, and write.”

I am a writer. I say it out loud. I am a writer with a sometimes irregular writing practice. I live by the motto: nulla dies sine linea – never a day without a line (Horace); yet, I’ve been known to count my to-do list on a busy day as my line. Though I’ve taught writing, published short stories, essays, and articles, and I’ve been commissioned to write everything from letters to personalized pet poems, I have no income from my written works at the moment. I am focused on writing my first novel with no agent or publisher in sight. Yet, I am a serious writer.

As a serious writer, I read, open myself to new learning opportunities, and stay connected. I read novels, books about writing, and books about writers. I read poetry, pamphlets, and tea bags. I attend workshops, classes, conferences and retreats. I have a circle of writer friends with whom I stay connected. I wander and ponder and day dream. And I write. I put my seat to the seat, and I write.

Actually, I can’t not write. And I know my friend is the same way. She’s been writing most of her life: magnificent stories, delicious poems, and humorous letters. She wants very badly to be published and occasionally submits. She may lack a regular writing schedule. She may have a tendency to write mainly when inspired. But, she’s a writer.

Another friend said to me, “What if you spend a year on a novel and then it doesn’t get published?  That’s all that time wasted. How do you justify the time?”

To that, I say: That year will go by anyway. At the end, I will have had the experience of writing a novel, or not.

Seriously.

Okay, so you’re a writer and your seat is on the seat and you’re ready to begin.  Next comes the easy/hard part: get it down and don’t wait for it to be good.

I say this is easy because it means you let the writing flow.  You don’t stop to correct punctuation errors or re-attach dangling participles or edit an over abundance of adjectives.  You don’t worry about writing perfectly or keeping to a pre-conceived plot plan.  You don’t hesitate because you’re not sure what your story is about or where it’s going. You don’t backtrack because an unexpected character or happening shows up.  You don’t allow the English teacher or critic in your head to participate. You just let go and see where the act of writing takes you.  You explore without judgement.  You open yourself to discovery.

I say this is hard because, of course you want to write well.  Of course you want this to be good.  Perfect, in fact.  You don’t want to be wasting your precious writing time on something you’ll only cross out or delete.  You’ve been schooled to write with precision and clarity.  You’ve been trained to honor the rules and to punctuate properly.  You’ve been taught to get it right, not get it down. Or rather, to get it down only when and if it’s right — all presentable and respectable and logical. Thus, you’ve been hobbled from the outset.

I’m here to remind your hesitant self that re-writing comes later.  This is first draft time.  Rough draft time.  Rough is the operative word here — the free-you-up-so-you-can-get-it-down word.  “Oh, yeah,” you can say to yourself, “This is supposed to be rough.  I’ll fix it later.  Fixing’s another part of the process.”

Process.  Great word, process.  A sweet word.  It’s a word that reminds us to breathe and allows us to play.

Anne Lamott, author of bird by bird, talks about “shitty first drafts” and assures us that “all good writers write them.” She calls the first draft, “… the child’s draft, where you let it all pour out and then let it romp all over the place, knowing that no one is going to see it and that you can shape it later.” 

So for now, with the seat of your pants to the seat of the chair, get it down.  Don’t wait for it to be good.

—  What’s stopping you from getting it down on the page?  Share by commenting below.  —