Can being ill ever benefit your writing?

You may have noticed this blog has been quiet for a little while. It’s because I’ve been fighting with my body. Or, to be more precise, I’ve been learning not to fight my body.

At the end of last year, I ran into a wall. I had been pushing myself, the way I do. When it complained, I told my body to shut up and keep on going. This is what we are all so guilty of. We live in a society that says do it, have it, keep burning the candle at both ends. Face it, conquer it. Your body is your vehicle. Your body is your servant. Your body is not as important to you as your mind and soul. It is merely the container for those abstract, superior elements. Exhaustion is your default state – but that’s a good thing, isn’t it? It shows you’re putting in effort; in modern culture, striving and effort are gold badges of worth.

Then there comes the day when the body says ‘Enough’. It tells you, ‘I’ve had it with this attitude. I’ve had it with you not taking care of yourself. Of me.’

That rebellion can take the form of an exhaustion so draining there is no functionality left. Illness creates a fog in the mind. That questing, rational brain of yours can no longer dart about. It is lassoed from below and chained to a body that now asserts itself as having primacy.

Or a grumbling, niggling level of illness suddenly grows into something unmistakable. Something that fills the foreground of your awareness and stops you thinking of anything else. The body’s main weapon in this is pain. Pain makes you sit up and pay attention, like nothing else does or can.

This is what happened to me. Two health issues reached crisis point in December. I was told both required operations. One of those operations I have now had (the other isn’t so urgent). Three weeks on from the operation, I look back and take stock of it all. For weeks beforehand, virtually unable to eat and living with the fear of severe pain if I ate the wrong thing, my energy levels and my mental acuity both went through the floor. In the recovery phase, I have had to learn patience. Passivity. A willingness to wait. I am not good at those things!

Regular readers know I’m writing a book on mindset for writers. Oh, the irony! I had to live my own advice. I had to understand that I couldn’t push on with the book and publish as speedily as I had planned. Nor did I want to, once I had accepted the situation. Why? Because, quite simply, the book would not have been good enough. The book wouldn’t have been as rich and considered as I wanted it to be. There is pushing on, there is driving on – and there is the old proverb about more haste, less speed. I would add: more haste, poorer quality.

So how have I used the time of this health crisis? I have learned to sit and think, quietly. I have learned to doze and not feel guilty about that. I have learned to give my body time to rest and heal. It deserves that care and respect.

I am lucky enough to work mainly at home, but my new morning regime has involved staying in bed, reading and writing, in what I call ‘the bed office’. This has been amazingly productive in the last three weeks, as my brain revives and with it the enthusiasm and joy I feel about the book. It was not dead; it was merely sleeping.

I have written parts I would not have written had I not had this crisis. This is the creative paradox of it all.

If you are a writer and your health challenges you, either temporarily or continually, here are some recommendations I hope will help you:

·        Maintain awareness that you are not separate from your body.

·        Imagination is a wonderful thing but it can be two-edged in that we imagine the worst results from our symptoms (even without late-night Google searches!) However, remember that it’s your imagination that gives you the empathy to be a richer writer.

·        Try to turn resistance and resentment into acceptance. We use the ‘fighter’ image so often when it comes to illness, but it isn’t always the appropriate way to look at it.

·        If you can’t write, use the time to read and ponder – you are refilling the creative well.

·        Illness isn’t romantic. You’re not one of the Brontë sisters (and what they endured was pretty hellish). Illness isn’t pretty. But it is human and it brings out human kindness. Accept help from others even if you’re the stubbornly independent type.

·        Do what you can, not what you think you must. Do the minor things and don’t obsess about the central task you really can’t cope with right now.

·        If the work has worth, it won’t go away. It will wait for you. Have faith.

Interested in reading The Unputdownable Writer’s Mindset? Sign up here for advance news and sneak peeks in the run-up to publication.

I am really excited to be talking about mindset during the Women in Publishing online summit March 2-8 2020! Grab your free pass here. This gives you 24 hour access to an incredible range of talks and presentations on all aspects of writing and publishing. Or you can upgrade to the Full Access pass at an early bird rate before March 1.

What can a writer learn at a business retreat?

I just came back from a magical three day retreat in the Nottinghamshire countryside (the photo above is blurry because it was taken through the window of my room – the sunrises were gorgeous). In the run-up to the retreat, I really agonized about whether I could go, whether I should take the time out of my work-schedule, whether I would gain anything from it.

And, most of all, whether I deserved it.

On the first evening, I really wasn’t sure I’d made the right choice. Not because there was anything wrong with the retreat – far from it! The venue was superb, the atmosphere warm and friendly, the other participants the most lovely women, the retreat leaders Elizabeth and Emma Buckley-Goddard brilliant hosts. There was generosity and fun all around me.

The real problem was me. I was tired, out of sorts, full of stress. I couldn’t settle into the experience. I started to worry that maybe I didn’t fit in.

The next day, that all changed as we took turns talking about our businesses, learning from Elizabeth – and what’s more, from each other. I felt like a cushion or pillow that’s been flattened by pressure for too long, and then the pressure comes off and air starts to seep in and the pillow plumps up. (I was plumping up from Jo Hodson’s amazing food, but that’s another story!)

So what did I learn? So much! About myself, about how other women cope with business and how they balance business and their daily lives. Here, then are some key takeaways:

• That diverse business-owners find they have the same issues: discoverability, impostor syndrome, deciding which direction to take next, deciding which offers to make to their clients/customers, finding the strength to jettison what doesn’t work anymore and move on to what has the potential to take their businesses to another level.

• That there’s an extraordinary paradox at work: women who are teachers, communicators, marketers, whose lives are all about reaching out and helping others, start their hot-seat sessions with the phrase ‘I’m an introvert but…’! We agreed there are misconceptions about being an introvert. Introverts do like people and do like talking to them, but they also need to factor in the time and space to step back, be silent, refill the well. Constantly putting ourselves out there drains energy and we have to find ways to restore it. Ways like this retreat, for instance.

• That business and creativity co-exist. You can’t run your business without creative imagination but that imagination has to work within the parameters of what is practicable in a business sense.

• That women in a workshop space create an amazing instant bond and a vibrant energy, punctuated by delighted cries of ‘Me too!’ (not, I hasten to add, in the Hollywood sense). I’ve noticed this in my writing retreats – how quickly women meet and recognize one another and open up to one another and cheer one another on.

• That tough love and accountability are necessary. We’re all good at dreaming, but need to be good at doing too.

If you’re a writer or want to start writing I think you can see how many of these lessons also apply to you. Find your peers, your encouragers. Find those who are experiencing what you experience. Find mentors who will give you that tough love, that shoulder to cry on, and the practical advice you need to keep soldiering on.

I’m still absorbing what I learned and I’m buzzing with new plans and intentions – but that’s a story for another day :)

In the meantime, keep dreaming. And keep doing.

Chasing squirrels: the distraction of too many ideas and why it matters to stay focused

New writers often worry about how to find ideas. If they’ve had a good idea they worry about whether they’ll ever have another. The truth is, many of us don’t suffer from a lack of ideas. Quite the opposite: ideas pop into our heads, scream out at us from newspaper articles or history books or memories or dreams. Ideas are coming at us all the time.

I remember seeing a Facebook video of a dog leaping at soap bubbles pumped out by a bubble-gun. It was going frantic, darting and somersaulting, snapping at those floating orbs. As soon as its jaws closed, the bubble would burst. Meanwhile, other bubbles soared out of reach, leaving the poor mutt with nothing.

You may have seen the Disney/Pixar film Up, featuring another delightful hound, an inane smiley pup who craves to be loved and to be helpful to humans, but is eternally distracted – 'Squirrel!’ – and dashes off after the elusive creature. He just can’t help himself.

You can see where I’m going with this, can’t you? When ideas come, they distract you like the darting squirrel. They arrive all shiny and unspoilt, like that iridescent soap-bubble. Your impulse is to chase it but as you reach out, another floats by. You want that one too.

Try to resist the urge, however Pavlovian it is, however conditioned by the eternal human quest for the new.

That idea, that story you’re with right now? Yes, the shine may have come off it a little. You may feel you’ve lost that first enthusiasm. But you’ve come a long way with it – don’t desert it now. Stay with it and see it through.

Disengage from the distraction of new ideas and give the old one the attention and focus it deserves. If you record your new ideas in a notebook or Evernote file, they can wait. Good ideas are not soap bubbles, after all. They will endure, if they are any good. They’ll mature and grow in your sub-consciousness. And when you turn to them, if you’ve finished your previous story-task, you’ll be able to show them the commitment they truly deserve.

No squirrels.

Here’s one of Henry Miller’s work schedule rules:

Forget the books you want to write. Think only of the book you are writing.

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Chase and catch ideas, share your work and ask me anything at this Saturday’s Creative Brainstorm workshop: visit the courses page for details!