Welcome to Writing in Company. Each week I share some words and a writing prompt, meant to be jumping-off points for you to write about what matters. Use the prompts however you like—to journal, to draft thoughts for your own writing project, as meditation or prayer ideas, or for another creative endeavor. You can always look back through the archive for more ideas. Grab your pen and paper, and let your words loose on the page.
One of the things I love about Substack, the community of writers that serves as the home for Writing in Company, is the rich cross-pollination of good ideas that get shared, re-shared, and discussed in comments and notes.
It was reinforced for me again this week when I read a piece What To Do, in Four “Easy Steps” from a fellow writer and pastor MaryAnn McKibben Dana. Her church had been examining how to move through the world like Jesus did, and used a four-step process as a foundational tool.
Show up.
Pay attention.
Tell the truth.
Don’t attach to the results. (Or Let go of the outcome….or, as the church reframed it: Let God handle the outcome.)
MaryAnn credited a seminary friend’s mother, as well as Enneagram teacher Suzanne Stabile in “The Four Mantras” for the steps. I’ve also seen them attributed to writer and cultural anthropologist Angeles Arrien, as “The Four-Fold Way” to living an authentic life. Maybe you’ve learned them in a different context.
Let me rephrase: Maybe you first heard these four steps in some particular context, but I have no doubt that you are still actively learning them. These are lifelong tasks.
Here’s what I just figured out this week: these are also the steps to being the kind of writer I want to be. And they are the steps to the magic of reflective, expressive writing—alone or in company—that I want to share with you, and everyone with whom I write. Here’s how I see them as a writer.
Show up.
In workshops, I’ve often quoted my online yoga teacher Adriene Mishler who says, “The hardest part is showing up.” She means on the mat. I mean on the page. Paper and ink are cheap and plentiful. The hardest part is opening the journal, sitting in the chair, and showing up to yourself. Having time to write is a gift—and it’s one that we all have if we claim it. There will always be something else to do instead. Right now there is a mountain of laundry in the bedroom and dirty dishes in the kitchen calling my name. There are phone calls I need to make. The dog is staring at me because it is past her dinnertime. (Sorry, bébé.) But right now I’m showing up to write. Your words are worth your time to show up, too.
Pay attention.
The kind of writing I’ve learned to do with my bereaved mother’s group over the last 21 years, and the kind of writing I teach and share, is all about paying attention. That’s what a good prompt helps us do—pay attention to what is right in front of us and inside us, which is also about paying attention to what matters.
Maybe the prompt is a line in a poem, like when Mary Oliver says “Oh do you have time to linger for just a little while out of your busy and very important day for the goldfinches that have gathered in a field of thistles… ” Pay attention to what rises in you at those words.
Maybe the prompt is an old forgotten photo like the one I came across yesterday—me with a college friend, both showing our pregnant bellies. Me, pregnant with twins—before bedrest, before birth and death, before writing….Pay attention to what you remember. (I’d start with “In this one you are….”)
Or perhaps the prompt is something that belonged to someone we love, like my grandmother’s charm bracelet with its silver slices of life I wish I could ask her about. Pay attention to each detail—the tiny shoe, the roller skate, the canoe, the Buddha....
Start wherever you start, and pay attention with your words. Write about what you see or hear. Write about what is right in front of you. Pay attention—something important is there, and your words can uncover it.
Tell the truth.
This is what I mean when I tell writers to follow their thoughts on the page. Let your words go, without stopping or editing. The truth is underneath all those instincts to make it sound good, or use good grammar, or write like somebody else. Just keep writing until something true comes out. Joan Didion said, “I don't know what I think until I write it down.” Flannery O’Connor said, “I write because I don't know what I think until I read what I say.” Ernest Hemingway said, “All you have to do is write one true sentence. Write the truest sentence that you know.” I’ve learned I might have to write 10 or 30 or 100 sentences before something true makes its way onto the page without me noticing or planning it. Keep your pen moving, and aim for the truth.
Let go of the outcome.
This is so hard. And layered. Sometimes it means letting go of each piece of writing leading you somewhere. Maybe the results from your writing session were scribbles and a grocery list. Maybe you didn’t say what you meant, or you ran out of time or courage. Let it go. Maybe you finished something but it didn’t turn out like you expected or wanted. Let it go. Maybe you put it out into the world but no one commented on your post, or they misunderstood you, or they turned down your submission, or…or…or….let it go. Louise DeSalvo said, “It's not what you produce as you write that matters. It's who you become as you write that matters.” Something happens during the writing that is every bit as important as the words that end up on the page.
That’s why I like writing with a group. We share a prompt. We share silence and space to write. Then we share our words, and our courage. We share our gratitude and generous listening. We share what we hear in each others’ words that sound like the truth. We share time and ourselves. It’s holy.
(Want to try it with a group? See below to join my next opportunity on Saturday.)
It also works on your own. Maybe you are one of my readers who hasn’t yet picked up a pen. I’m glad you are here reading, but maybe this is the week to try writing. You only have to do four things.
Show up.
Pay attention.
Tell the truth.
Let go of the outcome.
You can do it. It’s worth it.
a writing prompt
Pick one of the prompts I mentioned above:
The lines from Mary Oliver’s poem Invitation:
Oh do you have time to linger for just a little while out of your busy and very important day for the goldfinches that have gathered in a field of thistles
Or pull an old photo out of a stack and write to the person in the photo.
Or find something that belonged to someone you loved, and begin by describing it.
Then show up. Pay attention. Tell the truth. Let go of the outcome. Enjoy.
February Writing Hour - Saturday, Feb 24, 4 pm Eastern
My next live writing hour on Zoom for paid subscribers is this week! If you want to write in company with others, you are welcome to join us. You can upgrade your subscription for a month ($7) just to try it. A separate email to paid subscribers will go out with the link, or you can find it on my Substack tab called Writing Hours. Let’s be brave and write together.
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the first principle of Anusara Yoga is “open to grace.” knowing that simply by the act of showing up you have already arrived, and whatever may transpire after is because of your presence.
because of all the places you could have been, you chose to be here.
open
to grace
thank you, Julie, for your words that continue to encourage me to write from my soul and keep my pencil moving so I can be more present in every moment, every day. Blessings to you!