My work in On A Practical Wedding!

I spent a big chunk of 2014 planning a wedding (more on that later!). I hated most of the online wedding content. I didn’t want pictures of my shoes or need a fancy dress or tea candles. I was especially horrified by signs that said (Disney-style) “Happiness Ever After Starts Here!”

Excuse me while I throw up. I wish we were a culture that looked beyond the surface and I felt alienated by the wedding world. Was I really the only one who wanted a meaningful and reasonable wedding?

Then I happened upon A Practical Wedding, Meg Keene’s smart website that does look beyond the surface. She considers all parts of relationships and weddings and has created a fantastic community of wise voices that do not buy into the Wedding Industrial Complex. While that might sound dark and gloomy, she still manages to include glitter!

This site is a huge breath of fresh air. And now, I’m thrilled to say that my piece on my fears and worries about moving in with my boyfriend is up on the site. Find it here: On Moving In Together, and enjoy!

On Creating: Nuts, Bolts, and Magic

Are you curious about other artists’ processes?  See the links at the bottom and hop over to more Creative Process posts!

Writing 72ppi

When Melissa asked me to write about my creative process, my first thought was “Wait, what is my process?” Over the next few days I watched myself and realized I do have a process. Naming and recording these rituals has been its own experiment in process.  Our creative processes are our soul prints combining the practicals of place and schedule with the dreamy play of relaxing and creating.

I break the writing process into three stages: creating, editing, and marketing. I love being in the creating stage. I awkwardly fumble through the editing and marketing stages. In this post, I focus on my creating process and leave the editing and marketing processes for other posts. I want to give you pragmatic information and avoid blurry muses, but I’m only partially successful. Part of creation is the joy and surprise–the magic–of what comes from the unknown.

Still, security and grounding is in the practical. I’ve included sections describing the practical parts, the nuts and bolts of my writing process whenever I can.


Before I create raw material, I journal.  I use the morning pages Julia Cameron describes in The Artist’s Way: I fill three pages in my notebook with anything and everything that comes to mind. It is often the worst writing in the world. I catalog everything I need to accomplish that day; I record my nagging worries and mundane responsibilities. Journaling is like stopping in the mudroom before entering the house. I have to take off my hat and gloves, put them in my coat pocket and hang up my coat. I unlace my muddy boots and leave them behind, ready to be stepped into before going back into the world. I leave these outer world things in the mudroom through journaling; after leaving my restless energy in the journal, then can I enter the house of creation.  Recording what I need to do reassures me that tasks won’t be forgotten. My brain releases its obsessiveness.

Nuts and Bolts

I journal in plain, college-lined, 100-page notebooks made from recycled paper that I buy for $2.99 at the grocery store. Often halfway through a journal something important strikes me and I write it on the cover in black permanent marker. My current journal cover says “Stop Fixing.”  When stickers come to me I put them on my journal covers. My journal from last summer has an “I climbed Old Baldy” sticker, while my fall journal is decorated “Mountain Strong.”

My pen: I prefer the Zebra F-301. It’s a metal ballpoint pen that comes in black, blue, red, and green. I was introduced to this pen by an emergency room nurse who was a fast-paced charter. The pen nicely fits my hand and moves quickly. My brain is often several sentences ahead of my pen, but the pen tries valiantly to keep up.


After I journal, I set the timer on my phone for sixty minutes, hit start on the timer, put my pen on the page, and begin writing with the first image that comes to me. I don’t plan what I write, but this writing isn’t journaling. This is the crux of creating, the point when magic occurs. Characters come to the page and action happens.  Where do they come from? I don’t know. That is the joyful (at times painful) unknown. I enjoy them and I go where the characters want to go. If I fight them, or try and control them, my writing becomes forced and contrived. In improvisational comedy the players have to agree to what happens to them. Writing is the same. My character might start off wearing a purple pillbox hat and later on be wearing a red batting helmet; I can fix that during editing.  I write solidly while my timer counts down and I don’t check the time. Interestingly, I often find myself wrapping up right as the timer beeps.

Why don’t I plan? For a long time I tried to make outlines, define plots arcs, and create character descriptions. That type of pre-work kills the process for me. I do these organizing and clarifying tasks as part of the editing stage, not the creating stage.

In her book, A Circle of Quiet, Madeleine L’Engle writes the following about planning:

In the final exam in the Chaucer course we were asked why he used certain verbal devices, certain adjectives, why he had certain characters behave in certain ways. And I wrote ‘I don’t think Chaucer had any idea why he did those things. That isn’t the way people write.’ 

I believe this as strongly now as I did then. Most of what is best in writing isn’t done deliberately.

Like Madeleine L’Engle, I don’t think writing (or any type of creating) is a deliberate, step-by-step process. Instead, it is the conscious and the unconscious working together, revealing pattern and meaning previously unknown to us. This is why separating the editor from the creator is important: if we don’t, we might be inclined to nix the patterns before they develop. The creator reveals the patterns. The editor works for clarity and consistency in the patterns. After the character has acted in the pillbox hat and the batting helmet, the editor can go back and add the scene where the character changes from the purple hat to the red helmet.

Nuts and Bolts

I use one notebook for journaling and another for writing. Closing the journal and opening the writing notebook is a sign to my brain to switch modes.

I handwrite 90% of my first drafts. I have less fear of blank notebook pages than blank computer documents. My creator lives on notebook paper; my editor lives on the computer screen.

I have a sweet little desk at home that I occasionally write at. But I’ve found that writing at home is difficult: weeds call from the garden, flies wander up the window, dogs paw at the door. I prefer writing away from home. I write in libraries and coffee shops. My current favorite place to write is an old country store that has a deck of medicine cards on a solid pine table; I draw a card halfway through my journaling and record the card I pull and what it sparks in me.

I write three times a week (more if I have the time). I schedule the times on the calendar beforehand. A chunk is at least two hours, but sometimes four if I have the time. A four-hour chunk is an hour to ninety minutes of journaling, an hour of timed writing, a break, then another hour of timed writing. During timed writing I make myself stay in the chair: the bathroom, the coffee refill, and the snack can wait. I also silence my phone during this time.


Those are the nuts and bolts and the magic of my creative process. Over the years I’ve read many books on writing and formed my habits by taking what works for me and leaving the rest. I see one concept repeatedly: writers write. That concept is the reason I hold tightly to my schedule. Keep writing.

If you are working to find your process, I invite you to watch yourself create over the next few days. What works? What kills it for you? Are you lost if your jaws aren’t grinding against gum? Or if  your hand can’t hold that warm cup of coffee? Where do you create? When? What gets your brain in the creative state? Share with us in the comments and check out these other artists’ posts on their creative process.


Lynne Cameron

Lynne Cameron

Lynne Cameron on the creative process: The Creative Process

Lynne Cameron loves change and being in different places. Each new space offers fresh ways of seeing, and its own opportunities for making a home. Basic needs include a kettle for making tea, poetry books, paints and brushes. She is an artist, painting colour-rich abstracts grounded in the natural world. She has been a professor of applied linguistics; a teacher of children and adults; a trainer of teachers. She’s written books on complexity, metaphor and empathy, some of which won prizes. She runs training workshops for women who want to progress through academia (with Karen Littleton), and for businesses who want to understand how empathy can work for them (with Jo Berry). And she paints.

You can see Lynne’s paintings and read her art blog on
read the Empathy Blog at
Facebook page:
Twitter: @lycameron


Melissa Fu

Melissa Fu

Melissa Fu on the creative process: My Creative Process in 7 Words

With a background in physics and English, Melissa Fu is an educator and writer who enjoys working across many disciplines. Currently, she is writing a collection of pieces based on growing up in the Rocky Mountains. Melissa’s approach to teaching writing is informed by her experiences in the classroom as well as her studies at Teachers College, where she earned a Masters in English Education. She is especially interested in creating ways for writers to claim and hone their voices. Read more from Melissa at her blog, One tree bohemia and find out about upcoming workshops at MelissaFu.


Sue Ann Gleason

Sue Ann Gleason

Sue Ann Gleason on the creative process: Maybe You Can Hang It In the Garage

Sue Ann Gleason, creator of Chocolate for Breakfast, the Well-Nourished Woman, and the Luscious Legacy Project, is a lover of words, a strong believer in the power of imagination, and a champion for women who want to lead a more delicious, fully expressed life. Sue Ann has been featured in Oprah and Runner’s World magazines and numerous online publications. When not working with private clients or delivering online programs, she can be found sampling exotic chocolates, building broccoli forests in her mashed potatoes, or crawling into bed with freshly sharpened pencils and pages that turn.

You can connect with Sue Ann in a number of places. Delicious freebies await you!
joyful eating | nourished living | wise business


Narelle Carter-Quinlan

Narelle Carter-Quinlan

Narelle Carter-Quinlan on the creative process: Creative Process- breathing the emBodied Land

Narelle Carter-Quinlan embodies the Body-Land. She is a global leading exponent on yoga with scoliosis and the lived experience of spinal anatomy, illuminating the complex with reverence, humour and story. As a Photographer, her work is a benediction of communion; our inner and outer terrain. As a dancer, choreographer and artistic director, she is currently researching House of the Broken Wing; a performative, image and written exploration of moving within a scoliotic landscape. She is also a Transformer; true story. Visit Narelle at Embodied Terrain to view her Embodied Ecology Photography© and blog, and to hear more about EASS-y, her upcoming e-course exploring the embodied anatomy of scoliosis and yoga.

The Shadow of the Lego

The Shadow of the Lego

“I want boy-Legos, not girl-Legos,” says my redheaded seven-year-old step-daughter.

And I am swept into my childhood: into wanting boy-Legos and not girl-Legos, into hating dresses (what if you suddenly need to run or do a cartwheel or climb a tree?), into wanting to play football, not take dance classes, into wanting to be outside, riding my bike or shooting baskets, not wanting to carry a purse, not wanting to wear makeup, not wanting to pretend to bake pies or brush a doll’s hair.

Into being asked “why don’t you act like a girl?”

As a kid, things were clear to me. I thought this question made the person asking it look dumb. I was a girl. Obviously, everything I did had to be “acting like a girl.” It couldn’t be anything else.

But as I listened to my step-daughter say “I want the boy-Legos, not the girl ones,” I suddenly wondered what price I’ve paid because of my need to choose away from “the girl-things”.


I want the boy one.
But I am not a boy.
But I don’t want the girl one.

That one, the boy one, is the real one, the first one, the tough one, the powerful one.
But it isn’t supposed to be for me.

If I’m a girl, but I don’t want the girl one, then who am I?
I’m not like the other girls who want the girl-thing.
I’m not like most girls.
I’m not the kind of girl I’m supposed to be.

But I’m not a boy.

I’m different.
I’m strange.
I’m weird.

Something is wrong with me.
I don’t fit in the world.
I don’t belong.


This post by Rachel Wilkerson is about the experience of being a biracial woman and trying to find a pair of nude-colored dress shoes. After much searching, she finds the shoes. This is what she says [emphasis mine]

It’s hard to explain why I was so excited about this. They’re just shoes, right? Well, no, they’re not. When you have spent months saying to the designers of the world, “Here, take my money!” and essentially heard them say, “Er…no thanks, we’d rather not,” then they are more than just shoes. They are validation that you exist. We’ve all looked for those unicorn-esque clothes or accessories that just don’t seem to exist outside of our heads or at our price point, but it’s different when you know that the reason you cannot find them is because you’re “Other.”

She struggles to find the shoes because her skin tone is “Other” than the the color that shoe-makers are catering to. But what if the shoes were made in the correct color, but they only came in flip-flop style? Then there is a two step problem: something IS aimed at her, but she knows it isn’t the style with power.

When a girl chooses “the boy-one” there is a double whammy of knowing that there is an item marketed to her, but feeling the need to choose against from it. The girl doesn’t experience the thing she wants not being there; she experiences it being there, for her, and choosing away from it. It isn’t the choice of one out of five options. It’s a binary choice: the girl one or not the girl one.

Girl, or not-girl.

The girl is forced to choose against herself, to self-annihilate.

Of course, none of this thought process happens consciously. It is a gradual erosion over years of associating pastel colors, “taking care of x,” needing assistance, being a helper, with being a girl. Wearing boys clothes because girls clothes fall apart with any physical activity, or they bind and don’t allow movement. Years of fighting away “girly” gifts given by acquaintances, girl pushups, and princesses needing rescue.

Years learning that “girl” things are not okay.

For me, there is pride in the fight. The pride of identifying with being different, being strong and independent. But there is also great confusion. What if I want to act in a nurturing way? After years of rejecting behaviors that are traditionally “acting like a girl” it is difficult to allow them without feeling that I will lose any power and strength I may have in the world.

The redheaded seven-year-old says “I want the boy-Legos, not the girl-Legos.”

And I think, “They are plastic molded and dyed blocks. Why the hell is there a difference? Why can’t she choose Legos and get all the colors?”

Why does she have to choose against herself?



Reading this article about about copyright infringement reminded me again that we’re in the wild west of the inter-web. I want to make clear that all the images on this blog are created and owned by me; not to be used without permission. Contact me.

Long-eared Owl

Long-eared owl


I was lucky enough to see three of these at Standley Lake in March.