On the evening of May 30, 2017, my daughter, Nikky, and I attended one of the last performances by well-known singer and songwriter Sara Bareilles in the lead role of the musical “Waitress,” on Broadway. Right before the curtain went up, the actors could be seen taking their places behind the somewhat sheer curtain, an apron-wearing Bareilles front and center.

The image of what I saw after she stood on her mark—in those last few seconds before the curtain would rise—captivated me. Bareilles took a deep breath in, held it for a moment…then her shoulders relaxed. The breath was done; she was ready.

Writing is my breath. It is my sustenance and that which makes me feel ready to take on the rest of life. To inhale is to contemplate; to exhale is to relax the shoulders, put pen to paper or fingers on the keyboard, and let go of the thoughts that burden my soul or the emotions that light up my heart. Simply put, writing clears my head and makes me feel ready for whatever comes next.

When I’m writing—often at Starbucks, always with some kind of instrumental music flowing through earbuds—I can tune out most anything or anyone around me, except for the occasional loud talker. I’m not a fast writer; sometimes I’m painfully slow, which, more than anything, is probably due to my wanting to edit as I go along, rather than just getting it down the first time around.

The joy—I’d go so far as to say the exhilaration—for me (and I’m sure for many of you) is in the crafting of each sentence. Choosing words, playing with the rhythm and structure of sentences, creating interesting and elegant (but hopefully never pretentious) phrasing, demonstrating restraint in what I express and reveal. There are days when I can sit for hours and never tire of the craft of writing and be rewarded with several double-spaced pages (remember, I write slowly). There are  other days when I produce only a few good sentences, and I’ll get up from a café table or my desk feeling wholly disappointed and discouraged. But, no matter if it comes on the heels of a good writing day or bad, we live to write another day, don’t we?

At sixty years of age, I have spent most of my life not as a writer, but as a wife, mother, school volunteer, PTO member, school director, and, following a three-year program in lay church ministry, providing grief support. That eventually led me to the chaplaincy training program at Hershey Medical Center, a level 1 trauma hospital.

Despite the many ways that hospital chaplaincy felt like the perfect fit for me, once I started to feel my “emotional legs” pulled out from under me because of the trauma cases I was involved in, I had to step away from it.

I suppose I knew early on in the healing process that there would come a time when I’d want to write about my experiences. For the past seven years, writing has been at the center of my healing journey from PTSD. In a very real sense, writing is what has helped me transform a dark, stuck life back to one that is joyful and productive. And now, by writing a memoir, I hope to use my story to help others.

Writing that story has been a journey unto itself.

There Have Been Times When Writing that Story has Been My Fear

What memories from the hospital would writing bring back? What feelings would writing stir up? What if writing about a particular experience brought all of the pain back again? Then what… how long will it take to get out from under it again?

Write What You Can Write, the Rest Will Come Later

There were some subjects, such as the deaths of two very young patients, that I couldn’t touch for five years. Whenever I tried writing such difficult scenes, my pen was like a match, igniting all of my emotions. I often questioned whether writing a memoir was even worth all of the energy and emotion it required. But I couldn’t let it go. I knew that writing would be a part of my way back. And I had this notion that something I write could make a difference for someone else.

Lately I’ve been thinking quite a bit about why I feel so passionate about writing.

If Writing is Sometimes a Fear, Then How Can it Also be My Breath?

The answer comes down to one word: Stories.

Now, more than ever, we need to tell our stories. We need to find the common threads of our humanity. We need to share our stories in order to provide comfort to others and find it for ourselves. We need to tell our stories as a way of saying, “I understand,” and “I’m with you.”

The stories I couldn’t write for five years because I was afraid of the memories that might get stirred up…what if the story of one of those scenes is the one that a reader connects with? What if that story helps them feel less alone? What if that story gives them hope? What if that story gives them their breath? That’s the difference our stories can make.

Each story I write breathes new life into my way of being in the world. It helps me to reflect on how I’ve made my way so far, perhaps what should change or stay the same going forward. Writing helps me get a better grasp on the “why” of things in life.

Writing is what breathes life into my connection with each of you. I pray that you hear me saying, “I understand,” and I’m with you.”

What is your breath? What’s the thing that feeds you and keeps you grounded? What prepares you to take on the rest of life? If you’d like to share your answer, I’d love to hear from you!

Tess Enterline is a creative nonfiction writer, currently working on her first memoir. She’s also a wife, mom, former hospital chaplain, dog lover, and fountain pen/stationery enthusiast (i.e., addict). You can visit her on her website at www.tessenterline.com.

The post Writing is My Breath…and Sometimes My Fear appeared first on DIY MFA.

Yes, I wrote the book. Yes, I edited it until I was so sick of my characters I wanted to kill them off. And yes, I braved the gauntlet and submitted it. But the support of my group has made those things possible. If my book were a car, they’ve been the mechanic and the fuel that has kept it going.

From basic craft to submission, they’ve given me the tools and the courage to cope with the basic fears inherent in birthing a novel.

The Fear of Grammar

When I started going to my writers group, I knew nothing about writing. Here are some amateur grammar and word choice mishaps from my early stages:

1) Writing Friend: “You have some misplaced modifiers.”
Me: “Modi-whata?”
Writing Friend: “That phrase is modifying the wrong word. Your character just tossed her eyeballs.”

2) Writing Friend: “You should use fewer adverbs.”
Me: “What’s an adverb?”
Writing Friend: “Do a ‘find and search’ for ‘-ly’.”
Me: “My entire manuscript is littered with those!”

3) Writing Friend: “Synonyms for said slow down your prose. It’s a sign of amateur writing.”
Me: “My high school English teacher lied to me?”
Writing Friend: “You can’t use clichés.”
Me: “But I like clichés!”

My friends didn’t roll their eyes at me or call me naïve. They just let me figure out on my own that adverbs and said synonyms slow down prose, and clichés make for a dull, skimmable book.

The Fear of Learning More

They steered me toward craft sources that have improved my skill. They told me to check out DIY MFA and Margie Lawson. They taught me that Donald Maass is the master of tension. My immediate response to all of it was, “This will take months to learn!”

They said, “Yup. Let’s swap writing exercises.”

Learning some things came a little easier, like the Hero’s Journey. It helped sort out my plot problems, and I soaked it up like a sponge.

And there was always more. “Read your writing out loud,” they said.

“If I do all this, I’ll never finish my book!” I said. But months later, I did.

The Fear of Sharing My Writing

“You know, someday,” they said, “you’re going to have to let someone read your book.”

“Will you?” I said. Which was met with a flat, “Duh, of course we will.” The compassionate feedback from people who knew me so well was the perfect marriage of encouragement and critique.

The Fear of the Business

They forced me to branch out from our close-knit group to national organizations like Romance Writers of America. I joined Twitter. I followed my writer buddies to conferences where they told me I should pitch my book.

“I’m not ready,” I said.

“What do you have to lose?” they said. After weeks of nerves and gentle prodding from my friends, I did it. I pitched my book and got requests.

I heard from them about #Pitmad, pitching your book on Twitter. “It’s tomorrow?” I said. “No way.”

“We’ll do it together,” they said. I got two favorites from agents that day on Twitter. One of whom is now my agent.

The Fear of Saying “The End”

“I’ve been working on this book for months,” I said. “Four hours a day, seven days a week. And it still has issues!”

My friends said, “You need a break.”

I said, “Okay. I’ll take two weeks.”

“No. Take a month. Do NaNoWriMo again.”

I freaked. “Write a-whole-‘nother book? Are you crazy?” But I did it. I wrote an entire new novel in November and came back to my book in a month with fresh eyes.

The courage to submit my work came from my friends, too. “You’re going to have to declare it done soon,” they said. “You can’t work on this project forever.”

I said, “But what if everyone hates it?”

“They won’t hate it. You’ve worked hard, and you’ve written a good book.”

Then there was another round of fear. Before offering representation, my soon-to-be agent requested revisions after I sent her my full manuscript. She suggested I cut a series of backstory scenes that had been the inspiration for my entire story. I called my friends, terrified, “I can’t do it!”

They said, “Just try it. Cut the scenes. Read it through again. You might like it.” I did. My agent and my friends were right: it was a far better book without it.

I haven’t heeded all of their advice. I use a filter. Sometimes the best way to decipher what my gut is telling me is to hear the opposite from someone else. But I try my best to listen and pay attention to what my writing friends say. The people who know me best are often the ones who know what I need to hear, even when I don’t want to hear it.

Here’s hoping I can give back as good as I got on their writing projects. Heaven knows, I’m going to need them for the next stage. The process of submission is going to be a long haul, and I can’t imagine doing it without them.

My group is still meeting, still talking about writing every week. Agent or no, I have more writing to do. And I can’t wait to learn what my group will teach me next.

Robin Lovett, also known as S.A. Lovett, writes contemporary romance, and her debut novel, Racing To You, will be released July of 2016. She is represented by Rachel Brooks of the L. Perkins Agency and has a forthcoming series releasing with SMP Swerve in the summer of 2017.

She writes romance to avoid the more unsavory things in life, like day jobs and housework. To feed her coffee and chocolate addictions, she loves overdosing on mochas. When not writing with her cat, you can find her somewhere in the outdoors with a laptop in her bag. Feel free to chat with her on Twitter.

The post Overcoming Fear and Landing an Agent With the Help of Writing Friends appeared first on DIY MFA.