Audience Versus Critic

"So, I've been thinking lately," a client who is starting her first novel said to me during an appointment the other day. "I need to start thinking about my audience - who they are, what they want to hear, what voice works."

I had just finished Jen Louden's newsletter on realizing her memoir doesn't work, after working on it for 100,000+ words. I understand - you can't just write the whole thing without thinking about audience. But thinking about audience too soon can really cut you off from the actual voice that is still finding its way out.

"Sounds good," I replied. "Any ideas?"

She went on to express that her mind had started offering feedback from a potential audience.
"Oh? What kind of feedback?" I asked.
"No one is going to want to read about this character if she x, y, or z's," she replied.
"Oh honey," I said to the client, "That is NOT thinking about your audience. THAT is your inner critic."

So how do we know the difference?

Where I Am - Weekly Class

(I decided to start doing these again this session and see if they are of benefit to others and myself. I take bits and pieces from conversations in classes, combined with nuggets of language - removing any identifying factors and changing necessary details to preserve anonymity - from classes. I used to do this more and it's a lovely way for me to gather all I got out of the classes, and have a place for everyone to see the collective wisdom and struggle I get to see each week.)

"Where I Am" is my favorite default prompt nowadays, borrowed from Natalie Goldberg via Saundra Goldman and her #continuouspractice group on Facebook. "Where I am" is a classically good prompt - it can be answered very directly, with description of your physical location, or it can be taken many different possible directions - where you are in your life, where your mind is right now, etc. It seems boring, simple - but it is multidimensional.

Doing Nothing Versus Not Doing Something

The other day, consoling a struggling Ilana, I fought off a part of me that said, as per usual, "Do something!"

It didn't say this directly, it said it via the ideas and judgments and assessments that flooded my mind, facing the space of her sadness. They take the common critic line of things like:

-you should have done something to prevent this

-she should have done something to prevent this

-she is going to feel this way forever

-you need to get her out of this...

When, if, I follow these and more, I am "doing something". But it is often the something she does not need. She needs something, but she needs space. Warmth. Trust. Holding. Silence without recrimination, even if it is me simply judging myself.

                         🌀

Meditation is like this for me, too, like it is for so many people. Though I have plenty of personal and direct evidence with some fifteen years of sitting that it is "not doing nothing", I still believe that's the case at times.

How do I know that? Because thoughts flood my mind and I follow them pretty far before dropping them and coming back to the space of now. There's nothing wrong with that. There's nothing wrong with thoughts. But on the frequent occasions where my meditation is more focusing on thinking than letting it co-exist with space, I get evidence of how little I trust yet that meditation is in fact doing something. 

Even that practice, just seeing how much I am not trusting space, that it is something and not nothing, is worth it. I know that. No judgments here. Just curiousity about the beliefs that underlie my relationship to doing and being.

I know that it takes a lot of space to even see how I struggle with space. And still, even writing this, part of me wants to say: "Wrap it up with wisdom. Fix it."

And I refuse. I refuse to do that to you or to me. Instead I will do a something that seems like nothing: I will leave this contemplation open-ended, knowing I will return to it again and again, and hoping you will, too.

The Trap of Doubt, Delay and "Discipline"

Recently, I met with one of my writing feedback groups. Most of the folks in this small group are working on memoir, which is a supremely difficult genre. One woman in particular is writing a very hard tale about a very small but potent part of her life - a year or so of mental health struggles in which she lost most of her support network. It's a poignant story, and she tells it very directly.

Since she has begun, she's written with great momentum, clear about what comes next, able to pile through very tricky scenes with great ease. Then she hit some doubt - a moment of not being sure where the story was going next, or what the point was in writing/sharing it. And then she hit some stress - way too many external and internal stressors coming together at the wrong time. Her actually writing got delayed - put on the back burner - by a few months, due to illness and literal, physical inability to write. It's also inevitable that such an intense story would bring up doubt, eventually.

Your Inner Critic's Secret Tool

I met with a new client the other night. We chit-chatted, since she's been a student before, and we wanted to catch up. Then I got a glass of fresh water and sat back down and said:
"So. How can I help you?"
She had come to me looking for my "writing advocate" services, supporting her regular practice - which has since the class fallen by the wayside. She gave an opening line worth a million dollars:
"My latest reason for not writing is..."

We both burst out laughing. She is a smart woman, and knows what her mind is up to.
This is the first - and a very, very important step. She gets her own game - she makes up reasons not to write but they aren't the real reasons she's not writing. She's not writing because she has to be accountable to someone else. And like so many people, she thinks she shouldn't have to ask for help.

Shame

Yup. There's no mincing around it. 
This is what has been coming up lately, in my life, in my wife's life, in my students' lives. 
Shame.

When I don't get done what I set out to do (PS I had unrealistic expectations)...
When I make a mistake - or even moreso, a series of mistakes - while teaching or in public...
When I choose to sleep in instead of meditating...
When I procrastinate...
When I feel sexually aroused in a situation I suspect I shouldn't feel that way in...

I feel ashamed.
Shame.
A heavy brick in my belly.
A punch to the gut.
Not a voice, not an inner critic, nothing that conscious or obvious or literal.
I don't THINK it, I FEEL it. In my locked up hips, my tightened legs, my triggered wrists.

More and more I am convinced that this is what Writer's Block, what creative resistance, what perfectionism, what procrastination ALL ARE - shame. Which is the cause and which the effect? Shame is like the fuel that powers the freezer that keeps us locked in one place. Not exercising, not writing, not exploring, not asking - all because some part of us, deep inside, believes we are unworthy. Anytime we make any kind of perceived error, it goes right into the evidence bin - not only have we done wrong, we are wrong.

For a long time, I have contended that Brene Brown's teachings on vulnerability and shame (click here to watch her stunning TED talk) are a perfect compliment to Shambhala's teachings on Basic Goodness (an article here demonstrating how the two are linked). Shame is our biggest block, our most underground and dug-in belief that we are not good. If we believe this, we can't believe we are basically, fundamentally good. We can't believe in bodhicitta, that we are all born awake and with full potential.

Shame is endless in its layers. Luckily my faith is also endless in its depths. Every time I find a new layer - this last week it was seeing that during a live online class I felt ashamed of myself because of technical errors beyond my control! - I react, I work with my body responses (through TRE or breathing) and then I slowly unpack all that was going on there. It can take months or just a moment. Over time, it gets easier to see, and easier to let go of the belief in shame, let go into the belief of my own - and others' - basic goodness.

What do you do when you encounter shame? How do you know it in your body? Do you know it? Does it have a voice? A story? Or is it more undercurrent? What is your relationship to shame and vulnerability?

And if I catch you using these questions, or my exploration, to compare yourself to, and shame yourself with, I'll come right over there and hug you and hold you while you cry. 

That is your punishment. I will mete it out mercilessly.

As Sakyong Mipham likes to say: "Be careful, or I am going to get gentle with you!"

Tara Mohr on Inner Critic

I cannot suggest Tara Mohr's posts on inner critic enough.

Over the years, she has focused on the voice of an inner critic. This is a highlight of the posts I find most useful. She also offers classes and coaching in these areas, as well as women's entrepreneurial work.

This is not an affiliate post! I simply love her work and find myself referring to it so often that I wanted to have one place where folks could find the core links.

Please visit, digest and spread around. Potent stuff.

Simple and useful lists and charts like this and this.
Pithy and powerful short videos like this and this.
Explanations on why not to argue with your inner critic (here and here).
How to determine whether your inner critic is a motivator or saboteur (here and here).

As for me: I encourage you to battle gently with your critic - she has a lot to offer, but how she offers it is limited. Help your critic to get past her own boundaries and free your energy to create and live.

The Way of Writing Is Not A Subtle Argument

Lost, Chicago 2013

I am sharing a student writing again this week.
I love this piece because it so clearly shows the writer's process.

The prompt for this last week was to use one of many possible (and provided) quotes from Rumi. This is the one this student, Heather, chose. She chose another one and felt similar resistance, so she went on ahead with this one: "The way of love is not a subtle argument." At first it seems to be "working" - she's writing about the quote. Then she feels her block, and proceeds to describe the guards who are protecting whatever is behind her block.

Then, the not-subtle argument becomes her process - it's not (just) about love anymore, but about the very writing she is doing. Finally, she returns to the place where she is - neighbors and sounds, and creates/discovers a little universe that is conspiring against inspiring her.

Thank You

"Eyes of Love," Paris storefront, June 2013

For my writing students.

 “Writing is constantly letting letters arrange into different combinations and meanings.”

-       a student from this last seven-week session

Thank you

for showing up

for speaking out

for putting up with struggle

for laughing when you can

for giving critic space before giving it the boot

for your sincere joy and curiosity

for witnessing words and their energy

for being game to go as far as you can at any given time

for your commitment to the unknown.

Sometimes total strangers trump intimacy in terms of safety and secrecy.

Sometimes metaphor carries deep feeling miles further than it can by itself.

Sometimes when breath hits the bottom of lungs, of diaphragm, something cracks and opens knowing that is otherwise unspoken

there in those spaces we pull out

the shovels

the maps

the compasses

and we curiosity our way through our minds’ landscapes

our hearts’ fire escapes

our instincts’ innate flow

our potential fates’ uneven knowing

Sometimes in the middle of the most ordinary-seeming statements, something clicks into place that’s been edging in that direction, letter by letter, syllable by syllable, for decades.

It’s in those moments

and the gaps in-between

that we practice

this writing.

Sacred and mundane

deep and cheap

real and fantastical

understood and undermined

woven and separate.

Seduced? Deduce and Reduce to Produce

NYC April 2010

In the past, I have spent a lot of time wondering how/why it is that we are so divided so much of the time. I am not speaking of culturally, racially, class-wars or the like (though perhaps these thoughts do scale) - I am speaking of the inner wars so many people struggle with: inner critic(s) versus inner child; wanting to establish better habits but being held back by older habits, etc.

I am at the point of saying in my process that I have had enough.
I am still curious about what is going on in there, but I am sick of feeding the distraction through evaluation. For me, I've reached a point where asking all those questions more often than not leads me right back into the loop of the debate again and again. I get stuck. Enough.

Asking those essential questions: 
Why do I believe this? 
Who helped me to believe this?
What is the logic beneath this belief?
Is still important to me. However, they can, just like any other wisdom allowed to languish for too long, lead me right back into not doing what it is I wanted to do, or even be, in the first place.
In other words, the inquiry itself can stall me out - it's an extended tactic of my own resistance.
Even curiosity can hightail me right back into fear, if I allow it to keep going for too long.

Last night, as I was falling asleep, I thought about seduction. The seductive power of my old habits and beliefs. Coming home from a long day of teaching, all I wanted was to "space out." A big part of me said "Please meditate and do yoga, that is good self care." Another big part of me said, "Dude. You worked all day. Those are work. Just watch some TV."

Luckily, maybe because I was teaching and participating in a writing critique session, the meditation part won out, even if I did it with bad posture while snuggling on the couch with Dylan and Aviva. The meditation gave me an opening, some space to realize I really wanted to do yoga, too. So I did.

But more often than not, I give into the seduction of these beliefs. I may even get so far as to ask questions about it, catching on to the debate inside and not believing habits right off the bat. A normal interchange for me would look like this:
"I'd like to do yoga and meditate."
"Yeah, but, it's work, you know? You deserve rest."
"But yoga and meditation are self-care."
"Nah. When you have more energy. Tomorrow, maybe, eh?"
"I said that yesterday. And the day before."
"See what a pain in the ass this is? Let's just go watch some TV. Don't stress yourself out."

BUT where does the stress ACTUALLY COME FROM? 
The voice. The debate. The questioning.
Not the yoga or meditation.

The habits are seductive. I want to look at those voices with more suspicion, more wisdom. And by looking at them, I mean taking a step back and watching them try to convince me that the old way is the best way. Like a bad lover I don't even want to sleep with anymore, but I keep returning to because at least I am getting laid, which means I am cared for, in some strange logic.*

Therefore, as I thought about the word seduction, the word "deduction" came into my head. Then "reduction," and finally "production." 

I am not normally a fan of "Here are the ten steps to productivity" kinds of posts, but frankly, for me, I am needing some bullshit cutting tools for when the same things come up again and again.
I *know* where the logic is going.
I don't need to inquire anymore, show respect,  be curious.
I need to take care of myself.

I knew from Mr. Lee's 9th grade English class, where we studied Latin roots until we were blue in the face (Thank you, Mr. Lee!), that the root "duce" means "to lead."
This morning, I looked up the original roots of the words' prefixes when combined with "duce":
Seduce literally means to lead away from.
Deduce means to trace the path of. 
Reduce means to lead back. 
Produce means to lead forward. 
That's some powerful etymology, as etymology often is.  

Instead of thinking of seduce as "sinful" as in "leading away from a good marriage" (more like it's usage is now) we consider what it is leading away from - the things, in my case, I *know* are good for me and are not really up for debate - ie - I am not debating whether or not they are good for me - then this process looks like this:

When my thinking begins to lead me away (seduce) from yoga/meditation/etc, I can pick up on its path (deduce). I don't have to follow it all the way to its end - simply bring it back to the good habit in question (reduce). Then I can lead myself forward again (produce), from the root of my desire to do this thing I no longer question - yoga, meditation, etc.

This requires making a list of what you know are "non-debatables" - for me - calling a friend when sad, writing practice, yoga, meditation, exercise. As soon as I feel a tug away from doing any of these, I can actually begin to pay attention - there is NO REASON not to do any of these at any time, unless there is serious conflict (injury, emergency, deadline that is imminent or Dylan needing my help) going on.

What are your non-debatables?
What can you do to call attention to helpful inquiry (really being curious) and seduction (getting caught up in a pattern of thinking that actually won't lead to clarity)?
Do these words do it for you, or would you need a different set? If so, what?

This four-word list is going up on the wipe-off board in our bedroom where we keep word sets or questions, "Please meditate and do yoga" type requests from our bodies so that we don't forget the essentials.

*Um. That's not just an analogy. I am writing a lot about doing that kind of thing in my memoir from ages 12-28.

Passing Storms

"Apollo" Sculpture at Museum Boijmans Van Beuningen in Rottedam, Netherlands

My check engine light came on last night. As my brakes have been softening and my rear driver seat belt won't pull out, I figured this was the sign to finally bring my car in for repairs. My mechanic used to be just blocks away and is now located out by East Towne, a few miles of mall hell away. They have no drivers on the weekend to take us back into town. So I checked out the buses.

"Why don't you pop your bike in the back of your car and bike home?" Dylan asked, supportively but also uncharacteristically. We don't bike a lot, though we are in such a bike-friendly city. I am a bit embarrassed about it, actually, even ashamed. The seat on my bike, purchased a couple of years ago, meant to be super comfy, hurts my back. I need a new seat and somehow never seem to get it, so then I don't bike, afraid I will hurt my back. Then I feel bad about not biking, though I bus and walk nearly everywhere, save the mall.

Taming the Tamer

Still from the tiny film Taming the Tamer (link below)

Here is a tiny silent paper-cut animation film I made a couple of years ago.
It is about taming the inner critic, though it often attempts to tame the good, while wild, parts of us.
I am in the process of setting up a more thorough YouTube channel, so I can share videos of my own, audio for students, and obviously suggest great talks and other resources on YouTube. I'll keep you posted! In the meantime, enjoy this little film.

Inner Critic V. Inner Child

NYC child mannequins

Time for a show down.

Well, not exactly. More like a slow down.

Now that I am slowing down, on vacation, the fits my inner child has been throwing lately have calmed down. It's easy to negotiate my desires and my obligations with so much space.

Yet, when I am in a busy social situation, even here, in a lovely house with one of my best friends' roommates, or in a shop with too much stimulation, I feel the contrast coming on.
The Inner Critic says:
"Tough it out. It'll only be five minutes more. Be polite and nice."
The Inner Child is saying, or thinking:
"I want out now. This is not what I want or need. Take care of me."

Yin Support

Cracking ice in Sheboygan, Wi

Yin yoga was suggested to me a long time ago, back when I wanted to return to yoga, but wasn't sure which style or teacher to go with. As I posted here and here, I struggle with physical practices in particular, and need to have a sense of total safety (and anonymity, I've found - plenty of my students are yoga teachers, but I need to not be both their student and teacher at the same time). As a part of my new year's intention to support myself more, I have committed to yoga at least once a week at Jewel in the Lotus in Madison. And the main class I've been taking is Yin.

Grandfathered In

(from a collection of shots of odd/aged "handicap" signs I've taken over the years)

In writing an essay for an upcoming call from Creative Non-Fiction journal, I have been going through my grandfather's writings on his trips to Australia. I have these because I have nearly all of our family files - all the letters, all the paperwork. No bills, I hope, still up there, but at least three generations' worth of photos and other family ephemera. My grandfather - he was the only one I ever met, as the other one died before I was born - visited Australia annually over the course of a few years, for about a month at a time, with often side trips to Fiji or Tahiti or New Zealand. I always wanted to go with him, but never did. In writing this essay, I am addressing a question I never really asked myself. Why?