Abundance in the garden seen here in all its glory. Esperanza (Tecoma stans). We stan.
A lot of folks here in Austin have been paying close attention, not only to what has survived this long, hot summer, but to what has thrived. Neighbors, naturalists, landscapers and bird watchers are all sharing their findings with one another.
This Esperanza right here is one such plant that folks agree is a hearty contender, and it’s definitely one that has thrived in my garden despite the extreme heat, drought, and the antics of various critters including squirrels and my dog—who likes to dart around said plants in search of said squirrels.
Not everything has survived the drought, of course, but there are pockets of abundance in my backyard. There is a neon orange oriole drinking at one of my many birdbaths as I write this. An oriole! And there are hummingbirds sipping nectar, and dragonflies buzzing about, and cacti growing green bud after green bud.
My motto for the membership year ahead is Abundance. Just one word. That’s it. Abundance.
It’s about naming our creative desires, taking the time to dream, and seeking support from community when we don’t have everything we need on our own. It’s what inspired the class I’m co-teaching with my friend and romance writer Megan Clark. When she knew I was feeling a little lost and tired in my novel revisions, Megan offered to sit down with me, do some brainstorming about my novel, and—I quote—“generally just have a celebration of its badassery”.
Well, hot damn.
This is what I mean by abundance. It very often shows up in community. It arrives via the wisdom of a friend in my trusted writers group, or in the brilliant and inspiring work of a mentoring client, or the insightful comments from a student in a college creative writing class.
Sometimes in the writing life, it can be easy to focus on what isn’t there—the recognition, the finish line, the acceptance, the solution to a tricky plot problem, or even the coffee that has mysteriously evaporated from our mug. Srsly, where did it go?
I’m not, of course, suggesting that you see everything as abundant. Y’all know I don’t really go in for that kind of thinking. More that you take time to pause and reflect on the pockets of abundance—the moments of general badassery—that weave into the many-textured fabric that is your writing life.
I mean, what do we have to lose? In celebrating what’s really good?
Guided Writing: Abundance in Story—A Reflective/Generative Set of Prompts*
Members will find this guided writing compliments the previous members-only blog post. You may want to check that out first.
*This is absolutely an activity done best with a writing partner or writers group where you can share abundance with one another.
The whole activity takes about 25 minutes, a Pomodoro’s worth of creative time:
First of all, just take a damn breath. Sometimes we forget, it’s okay. Close your eyes and allow yourself three really luxurious deep breaths. Enjoy.
Next, consider the following: Where do others see abundance in your work? Do they admire you for taking risks? Have folks told you your writing is lush, or daring, or hilarious, or dark, or weird, or heartbreaking? Did a fellow writer in workshop admire your ability to write dialogue? Was an ex afraid of the focus you lent your novel project? Has a family member paused with wonder at the way you spin a tale, enter contests, or make up worlds? Did a third grade teacher once call you a genius? These are all rich with abundance. Write for 5.5 minutes.
Okay. Take a deep breath. Now. Where do YOU see abundance in your work? Do you love the way your characters love each other? Or despise each other? Do you love that one tree in the story you’re working on—you know the one, where they finally realize the truth? Do you like that you have a scene involving chocolate croissants which happen to be your favorite breakfast treat in the whole wide world? Do you love the way you describe a sky, a creature, a haunting, a heated conversation, a dream? Write for 6.5 minutes.
Alright, and how do you find abundance in your creative process? Like, how do you create ease and space and joy and lightness in your work? What does it look like when you’re writing with abundance? It doesn’t mean you have tons of time, necessarily, though you might prefer it. It also doesn’t mean that you’re working on something lighthearted. What it means is—put quite simply—that it feels good to write, that you’re glad to have done it. Declare it to the page. Write for 6.5 minutes.
Okay, that’s amazing. Take a much deserved breath. Now. How do you ensure that you can have this kind of abundant time/space/mode of creating on a regular basis? Let’s say…once a week? That feels more than fair. Write for 5.5 minutes, describing what tools/people/spaces help you seek abundance in creation.
Take a full minute to stare into space. Stare for one minute.
Take a deep breath and thank yourself for reflecting on abundance in the writing life. Then share the prompts/your reflections with a trusted writer-friend.
Want more guided writing? Members have access to more guided writing via the members-only blog. Just one of the many perks of being a Blue Stone!