Lost your writing rhythm? Here's one simple way to get it back.

Lost your writing rhythm? Here's one simple way to get it back.

Have you been feeling frustrated because you were in the flow or you did have a writing rhythm, but now you feel like you've lost it? 

If so, you're not alone. I see writers struggle with this very thing anytime they've taken a break from their writing, transitioned from one phase of writing to another—like rough draft to revisions—or gone from one type of writing to another, like short stories to a novel. I also see it happen when writers feel like their day to day life has changed. The time they have available and their daily obligations are just different.

The good news is that you can find the flow again.

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A tale of two writing retreats (a.k.a. how I failed at one and thrived at another)

A tale of two writing retreats (a.k.a. how I failed at one and thrived at another)

Have you ever noticed the way that having a short amount of time to write can create a sense of panic? Like, I only have one hour to write this week, or two days of a retreat—I better make the most of it!

Last month, my writing partner and I took ourselves on a writing retreat in a teeny, tiny town an hour outside of Denver (it makes my mountain town feel like a metropolis). I arrived armed with supplies and ideas: the first 80 pages of my latest project, printed; several books with essays and short stories for inspiration; and several options in mind to get the “most” out of the weekend. Like reading those pages to make sure I was on the “right track,” revising what I'd already written, or working on a short story an editor reviewed for me. 

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It's okay to stop pushing and create space.

It's okay to stop pushing and create space.

I had a whole, glorious day set aside to write. It had been almost two weeks since I'd written something that wasn't an assignment or intended for someone else. I intended to revise the first few chapters of novel so I could send them to my reading partner. 

I settled into the big green easy chair next to the gas-burning stove in the house where Pete and I are staying (the latest stop on what I've come to call "musical houses", a game we are playing while he builds our home). The dog curled up in her bed and outside snow fell from the sky. I loved the way the moment felt.

But I had sooooo many questions.

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