Stuck No More: Writing Prompts to Help Tell Your Story (Pt. 1)
Workshop leader Laura Munson shares time-honored advice for breaking up with your inner critic
On the first night of my Haven Writing Retreats and Programs in Montana, we have an opening discussion. In it, I ask my participants to write answers to several questions.
One of them is this:
Where are you on your creative journey?
Here is the number one answer:
“I’m stuck.”
Sometimes it’s delivered with a bitter laugh. Sometimes with a knowing grin. Sometimes with tears choking their voices as they struggle to get out those dreaded, yet oh-so-common, words.
I want to say to them, “You are not alone,” but I know that it’s better to give them the space to articulate what they feel inside and likely have been feeling for years. Maybe even since childhood when they took a poem that they wrote by flashlight in their blanket fort to a mother or father and said, “I wrote a poem! I want to read it to you!” And the parent said something to the tune of: “How nice, dear. I’m busy right now. Maybe your grandmother wants to read it. She likes to read poetry. Aren’t you more of a tennis lover than a poet, anyway? By the way, have you cleaned up your room yet? There are blankets everywhere! And where’s my flashlight?”
It’s in these moments— and if you’re reading this you’ve likely had one of your own — that children have the profound realization that just because they want to express themselves doesn’t mean that other people care. This realization is so profound, in fact, that it often is the defining point in a person’s path of self-expression. And it leads fast and lethally down the road into: stuck.
Perhaps you’ve looked into your loved ones’ eyes and realized that what you had to say wasn’t important to them. So maybe it’s not important at all. Maybe it’s stupid anyway. And it stops you. Even worse, it begins a trend of corrosion association when it comes to self-expression. Those defining moments begin the story that so many of us tell ourselves for years and years, and sometimes without even knowing it: I’m not good enough. Who do I think I am? Writing is self-indulgent at best. I should just keep quiet.
Maybe you can relate.
The other things I hear on my writing retreats are:
“People always tell me I should write a book. But who do I think I am? Somebody already did it better than I ever could. It’s not like I’m an authority on this subject. It’s not like anyone asked me to write it. Who would even read it in the first place?”
I have dedicated the last nine years of my life to helping people get over that childhood wound — that “stuck” place — to help them create a new story using the written word. And what I’ve learned is that it’s about a lot more than the words. It must begin with self-awareness, especially in the realm of how we speak to ourselves in our own minds.
Sound lofty? It’s not. The child in you watching clouds and imagining them as dragons, angels, alligators knows exactly what I mean.
Most of us wouldn’t speak to our worst enemies the way we speak to ourselves sometimes. The inner critic is, for so many of us, in fact, a radical self-abuser. I want to change that.
I want you to speak to yourself in a new way. Speak in the way you used to inside the blanket fort with the flashlight on that winter day when you wrote that unfettered poem, or whatever your version was.
So how to find that self-awareness? Here are some good places to begin:
Grab a pen and a piece of paper. This might change everything. I hope it does. If you’re resisting it, just remember: this is for your eyes only. You might as well go for it. Aren’t you so sick and tired of being “stuck?”
First of all, I’d like to help you become aware of how your mind works when it comes to your self-expression. There are likely a few voices in your mind, and one of them is mean. Really mean.
Here’s the writing exercise. I’ve divided it into three sections. I suggest that you use pen and paper to keep it flowing, organic, and even playful:
How does a dialogue with your inner critic (we all have one to some degree) sound in your mind? In other words, if you were listening in on this dialogue, what would you say about the nature of it? (I.e.: Inner war; insatiably hungry; mean megaphone; or guardian angel intervention.)
Now, to gain greater self-awareness, write a dialogue between your inner critic and the voice it’s speaking with in your mind. The voice that’s triggered by your inner critic. The voice that wants to fight or give in or a bit of both. Whatever is true for you. Maybe that second voice is even your inner champion! But if you don’t have a strong inner champion, that’s okay. We’re working on that. Just be honest for now. Subject: Writing. Take at least 10 minutes. Go deep. Remember that this is for your eyes only.
It might sound something like:
“You really have nothing to say, so why bother?”
“I know. It’s just a dumb dream I have to be a writer.”
“Finally, you’ve come to your senses. You should take up knitting instead.”
“I agree. On my way to buy yarn now.”
Ring a bell? Wouldn’t it be nice to have it go more like:
“You really have nothing to say so why bother.”
“How dare you speak to me like that. I have a lot to say and even though it’s scary to find the courage to write it and share it with others, I know that it’s good for me. So there.”
“You’re delusional. Just so you know.”
“I’m so sick of you. Go away. There’s a knitting store down the street that’s looking for a new manager.”
Now, ask yourself these questions and answer them in a journal. Powerful questions beget powerful answers:
Is this way of thinking serving me? If yes, how so?
Or, is it sabotaging me? If yes, how so?
And, if so, have I gotten so used to this way of thinking that it is my default?
Could I invite myself to tell myself a new story?
Could I invite myself to be the free child I once was in the realm of self-expression? (Even if you can’t remember, try to imagine that free, playful, confident self. I bet that you were a free child once.)
What would it take for me to write what I want to write as if no one would ever read it?
What would I want to write about if no one was to read it?
What would I write if there was no such thing as perfection? (Which there isn’t, by the way. “Perfection” is an inside job. Only you can ultimately deem something you do or say or create “perfect.”)
Stay tuned for part two of “Stuck No More,” which will guide you even more deeply into creative liberation!
Laura Munson is the author of the New York Times bestselling memoir This Is Not The Story You Think It Is, and the USA Today bestselling novel Willa’s Grove. She lives in Montana where she leads the acclaimed Haven Writing Retreats and Programs (just a few spots left for autumn 2021 and now booking 2022!). Lauramunson.com
