Stop Writing, Start Listening

Ah, the joy of writing conferences. The anticipation is almost worth the registration fee. For weeks prior, I dream of leaving my basement office to the spiders, traveling to a shiny new city, and sleeping sideways in a hotel’s king-size bed.

Recently, I registered for a conference with about a hundred other writers. All women. Before boarding the plane, I grew alarmed while reading the registrants’ Facebook posts of collective laments: Will my husband be able to defrost the meals I prepared? Would someone remember to feed the dog? What shoes should I bring? I automatically fell into gendered stereotypes, imagining middle-aged women sharing pictures of their (grand) kids and pets while attempting to self-publish luke-warm erotica.

I found none of that.

On the first day, I slapped on my name tag and took studious color-coded notes at the keynote session. By the afternoon, I had put my pens down. While the presenter spoke about craft and creativity, I just listened. All my writing stopped. For four glorious days, my novel’s final draft remained in my luggage. A bookmark never moved in my must-read-book-club book. A critique partner’s manuscript sat on the desk, red pen waiting to be uncapped. My laptop shut down and slept. It may have snored.

Instead, I engaged and talked with other women. I listened and empathized. I was amazed to learn how a writer got up at 4:00 am to fit writing in between her job and family obligations… horrified when another writer described scathing feedback on a contest entry and how it almost stopped her from writing… daunted after realizing a writer worked on the same book for fifteen years before landing her agent.

Each writing journey is unique, but I found commonalities with everyone. But most importantly, I underestimated the power, the collective power, of determined women in a room together working towards their goals. Shame on me.

It turns out women have lots to say and share, which is why I believe we’re the majority of writers in the first place. By actively listening to other writers, it allowed me to speak and listen to myself: pause a moment, take a breath, there isn’t always an answer. I realized (after I fell into my own stereotype and showed my conference mentor a photo of my dog who died last month) it’s okay. All of it. Just by being there, I was part of something bigger than my own collective pages. How illuminating.

Then I got more than my money’s worth.

During a final workshop session, we discussed how to balance writing, work, and family… a topic innately common to most women writers. In some ways, I’m fortunate to be sans-kids and can devote my time solely to writing. I didn’t need this workshop, but I remained seated and listened.

And… wow. An unexpected gut punch.

I’ve written continuously for three years… just about every day. And if I’m not in the act of putting words to paper, I think about it. I write during vacations because my articles are about travel experiences and wine. My fiction is based on cruise ships— sounds lovely, right? Ha, ha, ha, try writing on one. And while my manuscripts marinate, I write guest blog posts, query magazine essays… I never stop. Even at yoga, my final shavasana is spent meditating about the next paragraph or plot twist.

I recognized that while most women were doing a bang-up job juggling their multiple and competing responsibilities, I had nothing in balance. Writing was my work, but it had become more than an occupation. It was everything. And when something is everything, it’s too important. It clouds your judgment… it limits. I decided taking time to experience life wasn’t being lazy or unproductive, and if I didn’t get out of my office… soon… I’d have nothing to write about. I left the workshop stunned and ready to make some changes.

So, after hugs, photos, and many glasses of wine the final night with conference participants, I triumphantly returned home. I tossed aside my calendar and self-imposed due dates for projects. I declared to the spiders, final book edits will be done when they’re done. That niggling blog post just needed sprucing up, not a full rewrite. My 5-year plan may take six or seven. I bought a new yoga mat for better Karma.

I haven’t changed my writing goals, but in the future, I’ll give myself permission to take the longer, more scenic, route. My writing will be better for it. Because of the conference, I didn’t make any new rules, instead, I just got rid of a few. By doing so, I didn’t lose control but regained it. And as a huge, unexpected bonus, I found a cadre of women writers I could reach out to if I lose my way.

Maybe that’s the value of writing conferences: not just learning new skills, but to remind yourself you’re not alone on the journey of creating art. Take time to process. Listen… to others and yourself. And while presented with answers, appreciate you may have had questions all along.

See you next year, ladies.

—

Kristin grew up in Buffalo, New York and moved immediately after the Bill’s fourth Super Bowl loss for better odds. She received a Ph.D. in Higher Education Administration and held academic positions at Penn State, University of Maryland, University of Alaska Anchorage and Mat-Su College. She passed the Court of Master Sommeliers’ Introductory Course Examination and travels the world looking for a good $10 bottle of wine. She speaks fluent German and crappy French.

Now a full-time writer in Colorado, Kristin is a member of the Northern Colorado Writers Association, the Lighthouse Writers, and a weekly critique group. She has published dozens of articles for the Coloradoan and The Pint. Her personal essays have appeared in Writer’s Digest, Outpost, Mind+Body Magazine, and Regenerate Magazine.

Her first manuscript, ELIZABETH SAILS, was selected as a Judges’ Favorite in the 2017 Ink & Insights contest. She is currently finishing her second manuscript, VICTORIA FLOATS, and seeking representation.

 

Tags: featured, women writers

Category: Contemporary Women Writers, How To and Tips