Ursula K. Le Guin affectionately calls her writing community a, “mutinous crew.” In this blog entry, teaching fellow Vanessa (Nering) Gill describes the value of a writing community, complete with some mutinous “help” that would’ve made Le Guin proud.
I recently took on a home project that involved sanding down a large chest of drawers made of solid wood. The dark walnut finish clashed tragically with the rest of my bedroom décor and it was long past time for an update. If you, like me, have ever been inspired by This Old House, you might find that you have a lot of energy when a home improvement idea leaves the gate. You are encouraged, you amass your materials and you set about getting the job done. You are going to make Tom Silva (or Bob Vila, if you’re old school) proud!
I was about midway through the project and through my umpteenth piece of sandpaper when I started to lose steam. My commitment to run the race was waning and I started to second guess if I could get away with just sanding the top half of this set of drawers and calling my bedroom aesthetic ‘quirky’. I gave myself a break by walking away, not certain if I had it in me to sacrifice any more time or bruise any more knuckles for this project; I just wasn’t that into it anymore. I trudged into the house to sprawl out on the couch and lose myself in the tv for a while. My husband took notice of me as he looked up from his iPad, and inquired about the state of the drawers. “It’s taking too long and I’m over it,” I replied. With encouragement that it would be worth it in the end, my husband helped get me off the couch and back at it once again. He came out to check on me as I was finishing my second drawer. “Would you like some help?” he asked. “I really would,” I replied. Then he did the strangest thing, he brought out a guitar and started playing beside me as I worked. At first, I couldn’t fathom why he opted not to join me to help finish the never-ending sanding together. However, when all was said and done, I was able to step back and marvel at what had been done at my hand. It was a beautifully re-worked project and it fit perfectly with the rest of my furniture pieces, and it was all mine.
The first time I workshopped a written piece at the Writing barn I was sitting around the table with 12 other capable writers. We were to give our feedback on two of the pieces we had been given the week previously with the authors present to receive our feedback. As the instructor set the intention for our time and gave us pointers on how to be respectful, a thought flashed through my mind: “I’m a writer. This is what writers do.” It was a delicious feeling to have this notion affirmed for me. It stood out, an unparalleled feeling. The thought was a welcome self-affirmation as I set my intention to make writing a priority in my life this year. In providing our feedback, we were thorough, we had our opinions, but overwhelmingly we were supportive. We had a notion to uplift our fellow traveler and to give them hope that at least something was landing and eventually, their work would be worth it in the end. I came away from that evening abuzz with the sense that I was in fact, on the right track to becoming the writer I had always hoped to become. I also knew that I didn’t want the cheerleading and feedback-giving to end when the class was over. I took it upon myself to send an inquiry email to some writer friends and launched a casual writing group that meets monthly.
Writing, like sanding, is hard, it can feel never-ending and you sometimes lose your energy half-way through. When you lose sight of the goal and you feel indifferent to finishing, it helps to surround yourself with community. All the best writers do. Allow some trusted others to give you moral support and if you’re in a place for feedback, let them hear what you’ve written. Give yourself the gift of not having to run this race alone. By the way, even marathon racers remark that part of what helps them get through the end of the race is knowing they are in the midst of a crowd of other racers heading toward the same finish line. Young writers like myself carry a false believe that writing is a solitary act and we must suffer alone as penance to the craft. Here’s the truth- no one can pick up the pen or type the keys for you, but you don’t have to try to do everything on your own. At some point, you might need to hear an encouraging word or even a well-timed critique. Your writing will be better for it, as will your sanity.
I look forward to seeing you around the table.
Vanessa (Nering) Gill is a therapist, self-care/mindfulness seminar facilitator & creative writer. She graduated with an MA in Educational Psychology from UT-Austin and received her MA in Counseling from the Seminary of the Southwest. She enjoys singing, meditating, reading, making people laugh, and taking sailing trips with her family. Vanessa looks forward to fulfilling a quest of channeling her voice productively into her writing and to absorbing as much knowledge and goodness as she can during her time as a fellow. She lives with her incredible entrepreneur husband, Darrell, just a stone’s throw away from the Writing Barn in Austin.