What compels you to write? What motivates you? And on the flipside: what stops you?Â
These are a couple of the questions posed during our recent writing retreat in the Scottish Highlands. The retreat was deeply nourishing. Each night, we gathered around the fire to read our work (and in some cases, sing original songs) and offer each other feedback. Some had already shared reading and work with each other during online Rewilding Through Writing courses and met for the first time in person in Scotland.
It was my first return since 2020 when I was ‘stuck’ in the Highlands for over 6 months during the pandemic. I wrote most of Awakening Artemis during that time and am now close to finishing my next book Earthly Bodies: Embracing Animal Nature scheduled for an August 2024 pub date with Penguin Life. I feel fortified after being in Scotland. Not only am I well-fed (on all levels) after the retreat, it is land that my bones know, where many of my ancestors touched the soil and spoke to the sky for thousands of years.
Sitting in the living room of the lodge in the Highlands last week, we went around our circle to answer the question — what compels you to write? Some said that they write to heal, to express the unspeakable, and to try and make sense of a senseless world. Some write to speak for those who can’t speak for themselves, to share the depth of who they are, and to relive joyful experiences, process painful ones, and to share stories that have been repressed and need to be heard. Many, like me, shared that writing is a bodily need. Without a regular creative release, I feel like I am drowning in noise, trapped behind walls, or living in dead skins that I have to wrestle out of. I feel distracted, and my body feels stuffed, with less and less space to receive.
But even with compelling reasons and important stories to share, many of us stop ourselves. Sometimes we don’t feel as though we have the time and space or the luxury of time. And even we if do find or make the time and write, many of our stories remain hidden. Which is why the next question: what stops you? Is an important one to examine.
Now I’m back in Western Massachusetts, another beautiful place, catching up with work while trying to stay in the wilderness of my book so I can finish. Since I returned, I’ve received a number of emails from women considering the winter session Rewilding Through Writing. The common denominator for most of the emails is self doubt : I’m not a writer. And yet, many of the emails also share that writing is an ongoing need and consistent practice.Â
We all have stories to tell, to share, and whether or not we share our work with the world, writing can be a potent tool for healing. If we write regularly and are called to the craft of writing, we’re writers. It's amazing how much moving work and how many beautiful stories get lost or are never told because we don't think our writing is 'good enough.'
Here’s another question to explore:
If all of your real and perceived obstacles (time, money, self-doubt, fear of others' reactions, etc) dissolved, what would you write? What would you share with others?Â
On another note, stay tuned for my post about non-commercial ritual days. Here are a few that are coming up:
November 24th: Buy Nothing Day
Vanessa! I would love to join the winter class. Just confirming that it's online?