by Heather Doyle Fraser
I see you, reluctant writer.
I know you.
You want to write.
You feel compelled to write.
And yet, the time for writing eludes you.
You tell yourself writing is a luxury.
You tell yourself you'll do it after you've accomplished XYZ or when the school year is over, or when the house isn't so cluttered.
You tell yourself that once everything is organized, there will be space for you and your writing.
I know what's underneath all of those stories. And if you are really being honest, you do too. There's resistance, doubt, and fear, and all of those are really uncomfortable. This discomfort shows up in the body as a physical experience: tightness in the chest, a clenched jaw, shallow breathing, sweaty palms, and the list goes on. These physical sensations bring on thoughts that you would rather avoid. These thoughts come in hot when you pause long enough to imagine yourself writing, and all of this bears a striking resemblance to a threat response because it is a threat response. Here’s how this might show up:
Fight: "Who do you think you are? You aren't that good of a writer in the first place!" (says the inner critic part in you)
Flight: "You know what you really need? You need to plan for summer or next fall, or, or, or really just plan anything else that takes you out of imagining yourself writing. Better yet, don't plan. Just scroll some social media." (says the by-passer part in you)
Freeze: "No decisions right now. I'm overwhelmed. Keep your head down. There's no magic here." (says the anxious part in you)
Fawn: "Oh, writing! Such a great idea - yes, YES! But now is not the time. Yes. Once everything is settled, I will make a promise to do this for myself." (says the pleaser part in you)
These reactions to the idea of writing are plentiful. Every single person I have worked with over the past 25 years (including myself especially when I am actively writing a book) has thoughts like these and others that are just as palpable. And they don’t happen once in the process. These thoughts come up often and trigger physical responses in our bodies that cannot be talked through or reasoned with. (I’m looking at you, writer’s block.)
I want you to know before we go any further that you are not alone.
I have a unique perspective after working with all of these people and BEING with myself in the writing process. When I look through a compassionate lens for myself and others, I know that we all need a container of safeness - a haven - in order to embrace this part of us that so desperately wants to write.
There are lots of ways to create a haven for yourself, your voice, and your writing that will begin to regulate some of these nervous system responses and soothe a mind that perceives threat. Some are obvious, and some are more obscure. I want to talk about one of the more obscure ones: writing poetry, specifically haiku.
Okay, I can feel the eye-rolls from some of you right now. Stay with me. (April is National Poetry Month after all!)
Let’s give this a try:
My voice fills my heart.
Embrace me, compassionate
One. Newness unfolds.
In the past three years, I have run multiple Haiku Challenges for my online community. These challenges are for people – just like you – who are writers, creatives, entrepreneurs, and others who don’t consider themselves writers at all but are in need of a boost of creativity, community, and connection to their voice. These challenges are also for people who just like writing haikus. (Surprisingly there aren’t as many of you haiku lovers as I expected, but I like to think that I up the percentage by a fraction each time I talk to people about writing these little gems.)
I know you may not be too familiar with haikus, and if you are, it may just be this common meme and t-shirt slogan:
Haikus are easy.
But sometimes they don’t make sense.
Refrigerator.
Haikus are highly underrated. In my work with myself and my clients, I find haiku writing to be a great way to tap into creativity and to your voice. It’s different from what we are used to writing or creating. It’s a short form of unrhymed Japanese poetry that contains 17 syllables and three lines, with the first line containing five syllables, the second line containing seven syllables, and the third line containing five syllables. Traditionally, haiku are based in nature and were created to be a terse response to the elaborate poetry written at the time (17th century), but for my purposes, I am focusing on form and letting the content fall where it may.
My love of haiku was re-ignited back on May 5, 2020. I know you are probably thinking, “that’s very specific!” You see, this date is ingrained in my brain. I live in Ohio, and we experience all four seasons here. The joke is that sometimes we experience all of them in one week, and that first week of May 2020 really lived up to this. We had some lovely spring weather leading up to May 5th. Some great sunny days in the 50s and 60s as well as some cooler days with rain; a mixed bag, but overall a trend toward warmer and sunnier weather. I was doing a lot of walking in and around my neighborhood at the time – walking through the woods and other paths in nature, so I was really enjoying the spring-like weather trend.
Enter May 5th, and that morning I noticed the sky was a bit gray and it looked cooler outside so I threw on jeans, a t-shirt, and a zip-front hoodie before I went downstairs to start breakfast and take out my dog Coco. My memory is very vivid and solid on what I was wearing because as I stepped out to my backyard with Coco, I was met with not just cooler air but a downright cold wind. As I walked with her further into the yard, I started shivering, pulled my hood up, and zipped myself in up to the neck. To say I was grumpy would be an understatement, and then as I stood there impatiently waiting for Coco, I began to see the snow falling. Yes. Snow. On May 5th. This is a day that people talk about having tacos (it was a Tuesday too by the way) and margaritas (hello, Cinco de Mayo!).
As I came inside, I realized that the weather was seriously about to ruin my day and I didn’t want to go down that path. What was underneath me being upset? I was scared. I didn’t want to head back to winter, not in May 2020. I needed my walks for my mental and physical wellness. I needed those walks like I needed food and water and shelter. Of course, in that moment I wasn’t processing all of this, I just wanted to throw a mini-tantrum about the weather, but I didn’t want to put energy into that, not really. And I also could see where that tantrum would lead – into a whole bunch of despair. I wanted to work through these emotions, but I also knew that I had a packed day full of clients and manuscripts. I thought about writing to soothe my mind and heart but realized I really didn’t have time to write a big piece or journal about how sad and angry I was about the weather. However, I thought to myself, “I could write a poem. Wait, I could write a haiku! I have time for a haiku. It’s only three lines!”
I decided at that moment to turn, embrace, and make friends with this grumpiness, sadness, and anger. I also decided to bring in a little sassy-ness, too, because that felt fun and genuine with the emotions that I was navigating. So I wrote the following haiku (I needed to write it in two parts because I wasn’t done after the first three lines):
Ode to My Winter Coat on May 5th
(Part 1)
Oh, winter coat, you
Laugh in secret, waiting in
The closet for May.
(Part 2)
I thought we were done?
“No, no, you foolish girl! You
Live in Ohio!”
The act of writing this was soothing and brought a smile to my face. In fact, it made me laugh. It gave me a chance to PAUSE and see my anger and sadness with a compassionate lens. I acknowledged that this turn in the weather was upsetting, but it didn’t mean I couldn’t continue my walks. It reminded me that although I didn’t want this winter weather, it didn’t mean that we were heading back to winter. I was able to have some perspective and realize that this was a moment in time and would probably change tomorrow if not by the following week. After all, it was Spring in Ohio! And for the rest of the day, as I slipped on my winter coat before I went outside, I chuckled to myself and was thankful for the ill weather because it brought me back to writing some poetry and it helped me to navigate some uncomfortable emotions. Since then, I have begun to use haiku writing as a quick creativity boost, a soother, and a way for me to use my voice very succinctly and intentionally to introduce pieces I am writing. It’s a puzzle for my brain with the form and a kind and compassionate way to enter into the writing process for myself.
Why is the act of writing a haiku kind and compassionate?
This is where all of the newness of haikus unfolded for me. Writing haikus as a warm-up or practice before the main event (like writing a book or your blog) takes the pressure off. All of the sudden, instead of focusing on the big piece of writing that means SO MUCH, I am instead focusing on just three lines. The internal suffering and back-and-forth-ing that happens with the blank page are soothed and then replaced by excitement, anticipation, and curiosity. It’s a small step that gives me a boost and a metaphorical jumping-off place for the writing of the day. Let’s face it, when you are creating a daily writing practice, some days are hard. The point is to show up and write. That’s all. And when I sit down to write, I have my friend the haiku right there with me, supporting me, saying, “This is no big thing. Let’s have some fun. How about a little puzzle? What can you create in three lines that feels true to what you need and want to say today?”
If I’m really struggling, even with my friend supporting me, I put a little more support under me, picking one or two words I want to include in the poem. They can just be random, and all of the sudden, something is unlocked! Or what if I bring more of my safe haven into the writing? What if I connect to something that soothes me and supports the idea that I am writing about? Well, I’ll tell you what happens: I feel better. I feel at ease. My nervous system is more regulated. I feel the joy of BEING with writing as I participate in the DOING of sharing my voice.
Would you like to join the haiku challenge? I’m thinking about starting up another haiku experience later this month. Would you like to participate? Let me know in the comments!
It will be simple – just seven days, and maybe it could help you create a new way to approach writing for you. One that is kind, compassionate, and supportive.