I see your face on every flower, your eyes . . . the stars above,
It’s just the thought of you, the very thought of you, my love.

Billie Holiday sang those words with her deep, husky voice, and reached into all of our hearts. Lovely Romance: wildly desired, completely innocent, fleeting and all-consuming; and always within our grasp.

For me, I have had romance in the space where I have allowed myself to believe
in a partner wooing me. Even if I know I am the fool, exposed, believing, I fall and the other falls too. In this romantic and awkward space, romance is free to dance and play. If we can only keep that space open and nurture it.

With writing, the relationship is guaranteed. The partner being that immense expanse—Imagination—that loves us unconditionally and is always waiting, waiting, waiting to be wooed. How grand to be reintroduced to my Imagination midway through my life.

But writing goes hand-in-hand with commitment and work. Is there anything romantic about commitment? I think there is. Perhaps commitment is just a deeper and more meaningful “romance.” I feel a romantic and nostalgic feeling towards those who really embrace commitment.

Here is the story of a sixth-grade elementary boy, Jun, who loves soccer. I heard this on the radio on Spot on, Tokushima:

Dear Radio Listeners,

I started playing soccer in second grade of elementary school. I wasn’t very strong and it was hard for me to keep up with the other players. Our coach was always yelling at us to improve our “lifts.” He said that if you can master the lift then you can do all the other moves in soccer. I mean, if you can do a lift with ease, like in your sleep, then you can do all the other really fun plays you see on TV.

We practiced every day for hours, but after two years I still couldn’t do even one lift. Finally, on the last day of third grade, I did my first lift! I steadied the ball with my left foot and then balanced it on my right and lifted the ball into the air.

In fourth grade I could do 183 lifts. I could kick it high, kick it low, balance it in front and from behind. Most importantly I could keep it out of the opponents’ range. If you can really do a lift you can control your speed, too, and control the whole game. Now a lift comes easily for me and I have no idea why it took me so long to do it.

I am in sixth grade now, and I love soccer. I almost quit in third grade, but I am happy I didn’t. This year I hope I can become an even stronger player.

Thank you for listening, Jun.

There is so much wisdom in his simple letter. What gave off a gong in my head was that he practiced daily, in the face of opposition, and he succeeded. He truly made commitment romantic in my mind.

So, that blush you get when you set your eyes on your beloved—when your heart goes pitter-patter, your knees feel weak and, just by looking into another’s eyes, you can see the whole universe—all of this is within our grasps. Yes, it does take work and commitment, discipline, drudgery, and a lot of facing up to all the other suitors in our mind who would love our attention. But when you find your muse, when your heart goes pitter-patter inside you as a story unfolds and grows, and all you want to do is get back to it, be with it . . . now, that is romance.

And the romance of a writer’s life is not expensive at all. On the contrary, it is the lover who keeps on giving. All we need is a pen, notebook or computer, some skinny-dipping into our imagination, and off we go ~ Where? ~ only our Imagination knows.

How could I ever be lonely again when I have great company all the time?

Now, let’s dash off and share our romance with the rest of the world! Smoooooch!

Meg Sweeney

MEG SWEENEY is a recent graduate of both the Fear of Writing Online Course and the Fear of Writing Graduate Course. Born and raised in Washington State, she has spent half her life in Tokushima, in a small village in rural Japan. She’s an avid reader and writer and is grateful for the opportunity to post on the FoW blog about writing.

Power. A word that sometimes conjures things we’re afraid of.

I’m accustomed to working with writers who don’t think they have any power, but that’s an illusion. You’re not going to *someday* have power, after you take enough writing courses or after you get published. Every writer possesses great power as soon as they start, and it’s up to each writer whether she uses it or wastes it.

Here are a few powers I came up with during two minutes of scribbling:

The Power of Communication

The Power of Creativity

The Power to Influence or Persuade with Words

The Power to Incite Emotion

The Power of Self-Expression

The Power of Storytelling

The Power of Helping to Advance Civilization

As you read the list, you probably automatically excluded yourself for that last one. We tend to make the judgment that only “important” people are powerful enough to advance civilization, such as Abraham Lincoln or Neil Armstrong. But there are millions of unsung people everywhere, contributing their gifts to the world. It doesn’t have to be seen on TV or in the history books to qualify.

Take me, for example. Back in 1999 I was a fear-ridden, paralyzed wannabe writer who couldn’t write a paragraph without despising herself. Then one day, after something a friend said had percolated for several days, a book started tapping me insistently on the shoulder. Naturally, I wasn’t “good enough” to write that book—and I certainly didn’t have any “power”—but it demanded to be written, so I did it.

After that, I had to find a way to get that material to other writers, otherwise my book would sit around doing nothing. (It was no longer about me. I had a book to advance the cause of.) I couldn’t wait for publishers to get around to accepting me, so I self-published. Then, after realizing it takes a lot more than just a website to get the word out about a new book, I forced myself to leave my beloved hermit crab shell and go out into the world doing workshops and writing circles to get writers and closet writers to use my writing prompts. I did a whole slew of other things to promote my book, too, such as starting an online course based on my book.

I know my students are glad I did that. It changed some lives, including mine.

But why would I be an exception? Everyone has a meaningful contribution to make. Nobody can do Fear of Writing like Milli Thornton. Well, nobody can do your thing the way you can!

Here is a typical belief system based on powerlessness that I come up against whenever closet writers who are longing to write see the curriculum for this course.

“When I tried to write a novel, I discovered I have no imagination for creating fiction.”

When I dig down to find out how this conclusion was made, I’ll hear something like this:

“My description was OK, but there was no dialogue in the story.”

(Or vice versa: “I suck at writing description.”)

I’ve had dozen of writers enroll in the Fear of Writing Online Course saying they have no clue how to write dialogue. I take care of that with a simple lesson during Week 2 called “Writing Dialogue: Don’t Freak Yourself Out.” We also show you a simple way to get over the fear that writing description is anything but a natural part of the process.

Not having a specific skill is never a reason to give up on your writing dreams. You can always acquire new skills. And lacking experience with a specific skill certainly does not equate to having “no imagination for creating fiction.”

Sometimes, the fear is just too great and the closet writer (who is still wishing almost out loud that she could let herself do it) will decide not to take the course. This is usually phrased in terms of “I’ll think of doing it later,” and the reasons given are usually other than the real fear. I always wish I could get through to these dear writers with the truth. But all I can do is leave them with a version of these parting words:

“I hope you’ll find some way to continue with your writing. It’s clear to me that the issues you have are only beliefs standing in your way, not the reality of who you are (and can become) as a writer. These types of beliefs can seem so powerful, but it’s really you who has the power (creative power).”

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Milli Thornton is the author of Fear of Writing: for writers & closet writers. She is owner of the Fear of Writing Online Course, where her mission is to put the fun back into writing. Milli also blogs at Milliver’s Travels and she coaches writers at Write More Words.

“Putting off an easy thing makes it hard. Putting off a hard thing makes it impossible.”

— George Claude Lorimer

PACING. What exactly does this mean in relation to creative writing?

Feast or famine. Binge or abstain. Write in ecstasy for three weeks and then write nothing for the next two years. Write happily as a young person—until a high school English teacher or college professor destroys your morale—and then give up writing for the next twenty years.

These are the kinds of extreme cycles I have encountered with my students. If a student has any hope of making it through 18 assignments, or of sticking with it for a whole eight weeks, then I cannot allow such extremes to prevail.

Our Set-Point for Success

Also known as the Comfort Zone, we have a set-point somewhere deep inside; one that was determined way back in childhood. This set-point has to do with how successful we’re allowed to be.

It doesn’t have to make sense; it just has to be defended. According to the subconscious mind, the way to defend a human being from the hazards of success is to make sure she doesn’t rise too far out of her Comfort Zone.

But even if she does, there’s not really too much danger . . . because chances are she will meet The Blahs.

If not The Blahs, then the Suddenly Insanely Busy Schedule.

Or the Relative or Friend or Group Who Needs All My Time.

I’ve heard tell of the Sex in the City Obsession (must watch every episode on Tivo NOW!).

There’s even the Get Sick During Week 6 or 7 So You Can’t Finish the Course unconscious strategy.

I often see some kind of set-point kicking in during Week 3. I’ve also had students fly on the wings of passion all the way through Week 7—consistently posting highly creative assignments—but then they completely disappear when it’s time to do Week 8.

(Fear of graduation? Fear of finishing? Fear of success? Fear they might have to call themselves a real writer and do something about it after the course? Your guess is as good as mine because they never resurface to tell me what happened. That would give me a chance to get them back on track. And the set point doesn’t want that.)

Outwitting the Comfort Zone Monster

After observing these patterns until I understood them, a strategy was developed to help students sustain their momentum through eight weeks of writing. We offer four pacing tools that students are expected to use. And a pacing consultation if you need it. Plus personal help from your course presenter any time you need it. No question or problem is too small, and we’re always happy to help.

Without proper pacing, many students will never finish. That’s why we ask for two (fun) assignments per week, so you’ll start having a regular output of writing.

Pacing (aka writing on a regular basis) is the most practical way to outwit the Comfort Zone Monster. It’s much better to outwit a dumb monster by using practical methods than to get all bloodied up by going into battle with it.

The other secret is having a strong ally. We are your surefooted ally when it comes to pacing.

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Milli Thornton is the author of Fear of Writing: for writers & closet writers. She is owner of the Fear of Writing Online Course, where her mission is to put the fun back into writing. Milli also blogs at Milliver’s Travels and she coaches writers at Write More Words.

During orientation in the Fear of Writing Online Course there’s a lesson called “A Tip for Avoiding Self-Induced Torture in the Student Forums.” This is where I ask students not to read other students’ assignments before they write their own. Here’s why, in the words of one of the students who did it anyway:

I do have to admit that I have looked at posts prior to writing mine. By doing that, I think I did myself and my fellow students a disservice. I did not allow my imagination to take over. Instead, I felt stifled, stuck within the words of others. I was in a box and could not think outside of that box.

Why would students do this to themselves, even though I warn them ahead of time by quoting the regrets of several bygone students (and with a well-placed graphic of a Renaissance man with a noose around his neck)?

Because they fear looking dumb.

In a panic over not understanding some written directions, instead of getting help from their very own personal course presenter, students will secretly go read the assignments of other students in an attempt to figure it out alone.

After running this course for 10+ years, I did not realize how deep this fear ran until recently, when some of my grad students have been discussing it in a student forum. I was shocked to know they were still subjecting themselves to that self-induced torture—especially because I post all over the place in neon lights that students need to get help if they have a question or problem. And we’re very friendly and approachable when students need help.

It’s our pleasure to help.

But the fear of looking dumb is powerful. So powerful that people will stay alone with it rather than risk exposing the innocent detail that they didn’t understand an assignment. I always feel very sad when I see this.

Next time you’re having fear that you don’t understand something, try reaching out. Naturally, pick your mark. Don’t go to someone who you already know (or suspect) will make you feel stupid. But do take the risk. Staying alone with your questions out of a fear of looking dumb can come with a very high price.

There’s nothing dumb about getting help. Only in cutting yourself off from it.

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Milli Thornton is the author of Fear of Writing: for writers & closet writers. She is owner of the Fear of Writing Online Course, where her mission is to put the fun back into writing. Milli also blogs at Milliver’s Travels and she coaches writers at Write More Words.