a form of constancy
If you’re new here, Story Work is the name of my current book-in-progress. It describes a process of reflection, reclaiming, and reimagining the stories of our lives. It involves looking at your life experiences as creative material that you have the power to shape. Paid subscribers receive Story Work exercises every Sunday night at 8 pm et. If you are interested in receiving this weekly flow of self-reflection ideas for your writing practice, plus access to our monthly group journaling session, The Practice, please consider becoming a paid subscriber. Read on for a preview of our weekly exercise which focuses on the connection between courage and consistency.
First, a couple of reminders:
The Creative Courage Writing Intensive includes guidance for developing the mindsets and practices that support your creative process and build your creative courage. It’s currently open for enrollment, and the course runs from January 11 - March 21. You can learn more here.
If you’re seeking a soul-focused creative mentor and community, until December 31, you can join the Inner Story Writing Circle at a 12% discount by signing up for the full year of 2024. There is also the ongoing option to join on a month-to-month basis. You can learn more here.
“Long before morning I knew that what I was seeking to discover was a thing I'd always known. That all courage was a form of constancy. That it is always himself that the coward abandoned first. After this all other betrayals come easily.”
― Cormac McCarthy
All courage is a form of constancy.
All courage is a practice.
This year I put this to the test. I started a creative coaching program in September of 2022, and added the Inner Story Writing Circle the following December. I worried that no one would sign up, and that I would run out of things to say. I worried about the consistency required, and my ability to be a reliable source of creative energy for others through the ebbs and flows of the rest of my life. My inner critic reminded me of all the things I didn’t know, and how public failure would be if I didn’t succeed.
Our inner critics get loud when we decide to take a creative risk. Just when we take a leap and start making moves, something inside protests and resists the new vulnerability. We think we must be doing something wrong because we feel this dislocation, this loss of control. But it’s ok. There’s nothing wrong. This is part of the process. You’re just paving a new path and uncertainty should be expected.
Our inner critics get loud when we are growing and expanding beyond our prior limitations.
For example:
When you express yourself in a new way or share a different point of view that separates you from the comfort of groupthink.
When you are experiencing a season of seemingly low productivity, when life is calling you to be still and incubate.
When you discover something that you can’t fix or control through sheer force or willpower.
When you subject yourself to new pressures and responsibilities and the learning curve intimidates you.
When you make an effort and don’t get immediate validation or the specific results you wanted.
When you set or enforce a boundary that disrupts familiar relationship dynamics.
When you discover a bad habit or area of weakness that stands between you and something you want.
We can teach ourselves to respond differently when the voice of doom gets loud and the growth gets uncomfortable.