Creating meaningful work is hard, even in optimal circumstances. Put on a swim cap and tuck your distractions away for a few moments. Give yourself the opportunity to perform at your best.
I realized recently that whether I'm writing, teaching, or even interviewing, I'm only interested in communicating one idea: Everything is okay, even though it looks like everything is not okay.
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Life has a way of taking us away from ourselves in its acute and mundane manifestations, but it also can -- if we turn our attention to re-engaging our voice -- bring us right back to who we are, and what we have to say both on and off the page. Here are three DIY voice lessons.
The first words are often the hardest, even when they come easily. The first words are ones that open up a new world, introduce us to new characters, ones that we might not necessarily be acquainted with, at least not in action even if you have filled the pages of a notebook with character traits and have countless images pinned on a Pinterest board.
Poetry has the logic of memory, the spontaneity of dreams, yet is much like calculus--each line is, in a sense, an asymptote composed of and continu...
We live in a society where everybody is doing something. Everyone is a coach, a strategist, a speaker and an expert. People everywhere are scratching their heads trying to figure out when and how so many people became successful and no one knew about it (we have the rise of social media to thank for this).
If you have ever struggled with feeling unworthy or not-good-enough, you're not alone. If you've ever been overly confident, maybe even conceited, you're not alone.
If you were born to write you knew that the something else had to do with the inseparable and ceaselessly creative link between curiosity and imagination. It was the one thing you could not see, and yet it was the one thing upon which so much depended.
Pretty much everyone is doing a whole lotta writing. Every single day. A small percentage of their work is brilliant. Some is good. And a whole lot is utter crap. But it's writing nonetheless, and we have technology, of all things, to thank
I'm writing this knowing my bank account is overdrawn, because I'm still waiting on four, unexpectedly late paychecks. I'm writing this from my couch, where my 19-month-old is sleepily nursing in my lap.
Whatever you choose, pick it now, start small, and begin proving to yourself that you can become the type of person you want to become. Tiny habits, when repeated consistently, can be the difference success or failure, confidence or doubt, and even happiness or depression.
Stop waiting. Once you click submit and you've entered that contest, leave it to the fates to decide. It's out of your control now so why torture yourself? And furthermore, the true trap here is putting all of your eggs in that one basket.
A serial about two artists with incurable neurological disease sharing fear, frustration and friendship as they push to complete the most rewarding cr...
After pondering that for a while, it became evident to me that I can't nail it down to just one reason. It's really three. The first is the most evident: I write to communicate. I want to share my own observations, feelings, and thoughts to see if anyone else out there sees and feels the same way, or if I'm just plain out of my mind.
Writers and readers agree universally that we like beautiful writing, though there is not universal agreement as to which writing is beautiful and which is not -- a disagreement that is the true source of writing's beauty.