Writing State of Mind

I just attended an awesome workshop given by Freedom Personal Development president Eric Plantenberg about state of mind. It turns out that while intention and action are important when trying to accomplish something—like writing a book or a blog—state of mind is even more critical. Dwelling in guilt, anxiety, regret or fear (territory most writers or aspiring writers know all too well) almost guarantees that you’ll stay stuck. No wonder self-recrimination and self-criticism serve us so poorly, especially during the initial creative phase. (Check out my blog post about the writer’s block if you haven’t already.)

What we tell ourselves about our writing becomes the reality. I just discovered that writing state of mind truth for myself. I’ve been assuming that I had no time for my own writing since I do so much writing for other people. The latter part of that sentiment is true. In addition to working as a writing coach and a blog coach, I write people’s books, I write their websites, I write their marketing copy and I write or edit their blog posts. But the fact is that when my 18-year-old nephew moved in with me two months ago, turning me into an instant-parent, I suddenly found the time to scribble. I knew I had to make notes and write up scenes for my new book Auntie Mom or they would vanish. So I did.

It’s not like my schedule had suddenly eased up. To the contrary, now that I had added dealing with an 18-year-old to the mix. Nothing changed except my state of mind. And suddenly I found the will to write my book.

In short, how we approach our lives has everything to do with how we succeed.

During a walk in the woods 15 minutes after Eric’s workshop let out, I started thinking about how this whole business of state applies to writing beyond my initial observation about our inner critics. Eric had pointed out that perceptions—what we tell ourselves—aren’t fact. They’re opinion. But they create our reality. If we tell ourselves we have no time to write like I did, we won’t find it. If we tell ourselves that our writing is worthless, chances are that it will be just that. And I can promise you that if you’re giving yourself that message, you’re going to write less and less frequently. Let’s face it. Who in their right mind would voluntarily and repeatedly engage in an activity if they’re made to feel like crap every time they do it?

All these notions churned through my brain as I watched my four dogs at play. Even my English Cocker Spaniel Hoover, on leash because he’s recently gone blind and tends to bump into things on a trail he’s not familiar with, was wagging furiously. I thought about the project I’ve wanted to write for more than a year called Lessons from my Dogs. Suddenly it hit me. I could blog about my pups because the lessons they teach me every day can all apply to writing.

So stay tuned for the first installment of “Writing Lessons from my Dogs” coming soon. I love this idea so much that I have total faith that I can deliver. Now that’s the state I want to live in.

Thanks, Eric!

– By Linden Gross

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