by Naomi | Mar 24, 2016 | Creative Life
How do you consume stories? Do you read them? Listen to them? Watch them? Play them out? How many stories have you consumed today? This week?
I’ll venture to guess that stories are a staple of your every day diet, and not just because you’re the kind of person who reads this blog. There’s a reason brands use stories as the foundation for multi-million dollar commercials such as the ones aired during the Super Bowl.
Humans crave stories.
Donald Miller, as part of his Storybrand workshops, points out that stories are built on patterns. Those patterns create clarity in the human mind. In a well-crafted story, a character has a problem and sets out to solve it. Through the story’s twists and turns, the character strives for the desired solution, and in the end he or she either achieves success or does not.
But the point is: We KNOW what the character wants. We can see the character’s progress. We have a mental picture of what success looks like. All the twists and turns in the story are given meaning, when viewed in light of the goal.
Often, life doesn’t feel that clear.
First of all, it’s not easy to figure out the exact problem and identify a clear solution or goal. Maybe we want fourteen things all at the same time. Or maybe we know what we want but we doubt our motives. We want external guidance and assurance that we’re headed in the right direction.
Second, it’s not easy to gauge success. When we watch a character try to solve a problem, we can usually read into his or her internal reasons for needing that problem to be solved. Maybe externally, the Three Pigs each want to build their own houses. But what they really need is a safe place to live. When they end up together in the brick house, safe from the wolf, their deeper longing has been met. They are safe. In our real lives, when we don’t reach our external goals, we feel frustrated. Even if our internal problem is solved, we may not realize that is the case, leaving us feeling foggy and uncertain. We wonder: Have I made progress? Often the missed goal blinds us to the actual success.
But is the story pattern impossible to see in our own lives?
No. Not impossible. And when we do glimpse the story pattern, every twist and turn and challenge and success becomes that much more meaningful. The fog on the path ahead clears, and we see how to carry our life story forward.
Here are some questions I find helpful when reflecting on my own life story.
- What goals am I working toward? (I often look at six key areas of my life when asking this question: core, creativity, commitment, connection, cultivation, casting dreams. More on those categories here.)
- Why? (I ask the question about each goal, and list all the answers that come up.)
- And that’s important because …? (I look at the answers and push myself to go a little deeper. These second tier answers are usually closer to my real reasons.)
- Is there an overall goal that ties these goals together? (Stories make more sense when they are unified. An overall goal might be “I want to be healthy in body, relationships, mind, and spirit.”)
- Am I just starting out or have I been on this journey for a while? (You can decide whether to look at a small, recent story or one that you’ve been telling for a long time. The size of the story is up to you. The goal is to choose a story that is meaningful to you at this current stage of your life.)
Question five can be the basis to draw a map for your life story. Where are the notable successes and where are the setbacks? The more whimsical the map, the more it can transform your experience into something objective that you can look at from the outside. The map then becomes a living document that can accompany you on the journey.
I hope you’ll try this process out for yourself. Over the past couple years, I’ve used a map to chart the story of my year. I’ve gained so much perspective from seeing my story told in this visual, streamlined way. I hope the same is true for you! Feel free to share your story below, or share with the greater community on Facebook or Twitter.
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by Naomi | Feb 4, 2015 | Creative Life
What’s so frightening? What’s causing me to halt in my tracks and ask myself if I really want to accept the call, after all?
It’s this bothersome set of questions which should have simple answers, but when considered honestly, have the power to block me entirely.
What questions?
Will I, or will I not, dare to put my heart on the line–literally–put my passion for letting play into my creative process online for all to see? Do I, or do I not, believe that learning to play, and thus, Writerly Play, will transform writers’ lives? Am I, or am I not, willing to share my ups and downs as I continue to learn to dive in and play, myself? Will I commit to show up regularly online? Do I believe in this message enough to invest time, effort and courage in sharing it?
Here’s what I realized, looking at my cards from this past month. I’ve been dabbling. I’ve been cramming Writerly Play, and what I feel I’m supposed to work on creatively into the nooks and crannies of my life. And those nooks and crannies continue to shrink, and shrink and shrink. Life calls, after all. Someone asks me to take on a quick consulting gig. Someone else asks me to add a project to my list. I’m getting paid–and asked directly for–what others see I’m capable of doing. This isn’t their fault, not one bit. I haven’t shown them what’s deeper. I haven’t shared, truly, my vision. I’ve got it all bottled up inside of me and I keep hoping and wishing and dreaming…
So, today, I’m headed out to toss my coin into Los Gatos Creek, and then I’m coming home to start spreading the news about Writerly Play–and to face all the fears and challenges that go hand in hand with that journey. I’m committing to dive in and dive deep–for real this time. Even when I doubt that anyone is listening, I’ll keep the vision in mind and keep writing, keep creating. Most importantly, I’ll keep playing, even when play seems like the least important thing on my list. Because that’s the thing about the most important things in our lives–they’re not the ones that shout for our attention. And yet they need our attention most of all.
by Naomi | Feb 3, 2015 | Creative Life
As I’ve been working through my hero’s journey process, I’ve been reading The Writer’s Journey by Christopher Vogler. After the chapter on the Call to Adventure, there’s a chapter on Refusing the Call, which I assumed I’d skip. Since I set this process out for myself ahead of time, I knew it would feel false to purposely “refuse the call.” Obviously, I planned to accept the adventure. I committed to taking the journey when I created my travelogue journal and bought the coins for each stage and found the hollow book in which to put my daily notes.
But low and behold, a surprise! I shouldn’t have been surprised, given the fact that no one has ever heard of a simple hero’s journey. The point of setting out was to tackle something challenging, to grow personally and creatively, to wrestle those parts of myself that derail me and get in my way. A hero’s journey stretches a traveler’s courage, patience and hope. Often, a hero’s journey leads a traveler to the brink of despair.
In fact, this epic nature of a hero’s journey was the reason I wasn’t sure setting the process up for myself ahead of time would work. How could I be sure I’d face something authentically challenging? If I knew ahead of time I was headed to a difficult place, wouldn’t I avoid the worst of it or act as thought I were facing a true challenge when in point of fact it was more of a speed bump?
Nope. Turns out there is plenty of room for surprise.
On Saturday, I took out my cards from this past month and laid them all out on the floor. These cards, in case you haven’t read about them before, are notes I’ve been writing, one per day, on a key thought or discovery from the day. They read with sentences and phrases such as “Big projects are best tackled one step at a time,” or “Exercise patience,” or “Story matters. It’s how we make sense of the world…” I organized my notes and found that they became a sort of narrative that flowed one thought to the other. Rather than flowing in a chronological order from day to day, re-ordered, the cards made a kaleidoscopic picture of where my mind has traveled, and gave me a sense (which I couldn’t have otherwise articulated) of what the call to adventure truly is, right now, in my life.
And once I realized what the call was, I thought I’d simply move forward. I’d already planned to toss my coin into water to cross from one stage of the journey to the next, so all I needed to do was to go out and do it. But, that was when I stalled out. All day, I had a myriad of excuses. Maybe I’d do it tomorrow.
On Sunday, it was the same. Maybe tomorrow.
Monday? Yep, you’ve got it. Total avoidance.
So, I read the chapter on refusing the call, and my reaction (and resistance) started to make more sense. I’ll tell you more about it tomorrow.
by Naomi | Dec 23, 2014 | Creative Life
A few years ago, I made a decision that changed my life. Even though I had a BFA in Theatre Arts and was pursuing an MFA in Writing for Children, I felt like someone pretending to be an artist. All around me, highly creative people produced inspired work. I was the ugly step-sister craftsperson. I worked hard, sure, but I was also too careful, too structured. While my work was adequate, lightning wasn’t striking.
I’d hit my natural ceiling. Without drastic action, I wasn’t going to grow. The moment that actually pushed me over the edge was an editor reading my manuscript and telling me, “You’re not writing what you need to be writing. This story is well-written, sure, but you–you’re not in here.”
Why was being an artist so important to me? To me, living life as an artist meant risking asking the big questions. It meant stretching to my outer limits and beyond. It meant seeking truth in the hopes of shining light for others. My role models, Madeleine L’Engle and C.S. Lewis, had both done this with their work. Their fiction and nonfiction had reached out of the pages of their books and challenged me to live a bigger, a more meaningful, life. No one could guarantee that my work would have this significance, I knew. However, if I only dipped my toe into the creative ocean and never dared to dive in, well… my work would never have more than toe-dip impact.
At the time, I was writing my creative thesis on the importance of play in the creative process. I’d been approaching this task intellectually, squishing every last bit of fun out of my play. I was trying to force myself to act like an artist, all the time becoming less and less inspired. So, I wrote to my graduate advisor and announced, “I’m going to write a play, a hero’s journey, about my process of learning how to play. I’m going to start now.”
She responded: “Cool!” and then, “Are you sure it will work?” I wasn’t, to be honest. But I assured her it would. In the end, committing to the process was what made it work. I wrote the play and produced it. Through the process of journaling, shaping the story, rehearsing with the cast, creating costumes, sets and choreography, composing music, and learning how to edit video, I battled some of my deepest challenges: perfectionism, the need for control, and the search for my unique voice in the sea of creative voices in the world, to name a sampling.
After the play ended, though, I felt at odds. I’d been engaging with life in a new way, but after we finished the production, I slipped back into life as usual. My old habits returned, stomping down those fresh shoots of artistry that had started to sprout.
Fast forward to December 2014. My inbox was being bombarded with offerings of goal-setting courses and books. I watched some of the videos and listened to two very insightful books, The One Thing by Gary Keller and Essentialism by Greg McKeown. I went through Donald Miller’s Creating Your Life Plan. As pieces fell in place, I realized I needed a practice that combined the inner work I needed to do with my outer goals, work and otherwise. We are not simply what we do, but what we focus our energy on day in and day out can’t help but affect who we become.
What I needed was a new hero’s journey. So, I made another decision. I decided to try a hero’s journey experiment this year. I’m going to share some thoughts along the way here, on my blog, because I know a travelogue can often help a traveler experience sights and experiences on a deeper level. Perhaps my travels will inspire you to ask a new question or to try an experiment of your own. We’ll see what happens together.
Here’s how I’m setting out.
I put together a journal in which I reviewed key successes from last year, as well as habits and thinking I need to let go. I added pages where I can map out the journey and take notes along the way for each stage. One tool I knew I’d need was a symbol to help me transition from stage to stage. I bought small coins, and plan to drop each into a fountain or wishing well as I say goodbye to one stage and hello to the next. Also, to keep myself open to the possibilities, I’m collecting one thought per day in my hero’s journey book. For instance, when I’m Listening for the Call, I’ll write down one word or phrase per day. Then, when I come to the end of the month and am ready to Cross the Threshold, I can review the cards to see what pattern emerges from the sum of those days.
I started, of course, with Ordinary Life. What does that mean? I’ve been working on noticing where I am, right here and now. I’ve been organizing and decluttering my spaces, making room for whatever might be coming next. Another focus has been on building healthy habits such as exercise and blocking off regular time for writing. I’ve been practicing saying no, when appropriate.
I’m planning on tossing my first coin into a fountain around January 1. Then, it will be time to start Listening for the Call. I can’t help but believe that something extraordinary might show up. In any case, I know that by committing to the journey, I am engaging with life. I’m living the artist’s life.
