On Rusty Tools and Writing
a writing prompt from the archives + September Writing Hour
Welcome to Writing in Company. This is a community for you, whatever your experience with writing. It’s an invitation to write about what matters—grief, gratitude, grace, and more. Each week I share some words and a writing prompt, meant to be jumping-off points. 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.
Slowly over time, I’m reworking a few posts and prompts from my before-Substack blog. It’s been particularly helpful during this busy summer-into-fall, which has included lots of travel, a big deadline, and now Covid, shifting everything except the deadline into a lower gear. I also like seeing what I was thinking about a few years ago, and what might be the same/different/a recurring theme. For one thing, I can tell I’m writing longer pieces now, for better or worse. Here’s a shorter prompt from August 2021 that still resonates.
It's a lot right now. Afghanistan, Ida, COVID, voting rights, [for 2024 just substitute Gaza/Ukraine/Lebanon/Sudan, Helene, COVID, democracy] and whatever personal pain or worry is keeping you up in the night. It's an awful lot. Are we making progress? Is progress even the goal? What about kindness, or truth, or mercy? Or just safe shelter and schooling for anyone who needs it? Do we even have what we need to start banging away at all the problems?
Anne Lamott provides a start to our writing reflections today.
“It's funny: I always imagined when I was a kid that adults had some kind of inner toolbox full of shiny tools: the saw of discernment, the hammer of wisdom, the sandpaper of patience. But then when I grew up I found that life handed you these rusty bent old tools - friendships, prayer, conscience, honesty - and said 'do the best you can with these, they will have to do'. And mostly, against all odds, they do.”
Anne Lamott, Traveling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith
a writing prompt
What rusty tools are in your toolbox? Write about one or more of them.
Or, write about a tool or a toolbox from your memory or imagination.
a little writing advice
Writing alone is powerful. Writing with others, even more so—at least for me. I'm not a champion journal-er, alone in my chair each morning at the same time. I've started and stopped more attempts at regular morning pages than I care to admit. That kind of daily discipline works for lots of writers, but not always for me. I've finally learned that my own spiritual practice of writing is one that doesn't need a lot of structure. Just a good prompt, and occasionally the presence of others writing at the same time, and sometimes sharing. That's one of the well-worn tools in my toolbox that keeps me putting words on a page, and paying attention to my life. What keeps you writing? I'd love to know.
September Writing Hour - Saturday, Sept. 28 | 4-5 pm Eastern
My next live writing hour on Zoom for paid subscribers is this Saturday. If you want to write in company with others, you are welcome to join in. 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 write together.
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Join in the conversation with others in the comments. Tell me what you think about the prompt, or where your writing takes you.
Know someone who might enjoy this prompt or others? Please share!
Clicking the heart to like this post helps keep my writing prompts visible and my own writer’s heart grateful.
How are you finding it going over older posts from a previous blog? Does it feel complicated or joyful like looking at an old photo album?
Your prompts keep me writing, Julie, but what I have come to notice is that I want to share my response. Since they are usually too long to post here in the comments sections, I read them, change them a few times and then save them thinking I'll probably never see them again. Truth is, I am a retired champion journal-er who never shared my morning pages. Julia Cameron said just write three pages and move on. Why do you suppose I've graduated to wanting to share?