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“Il faut cultiver notre jardin,” —Voltaire
For those of us who don’t do fancy French, this means:
“We must cultivate our garden,” says Pangloss at the end of Voltaire’s Candide.
No sentiment could be truer for women who write. Stop focusing on the whole wide world. Instead, maintain a space that is your own and encourages the fruits of your labors to blossom.
But the process of growing our garden requires the right tools. Reading this blog and learning how to revise your own stories could help you cultivate your garden, obtain peace of mind, and establish your writing legacy. Happy reading and writing!
Looking for a specific writing topic? Search the entire blog below.
Show Me the Money—I Mean the Meaningful Client Connections
Oh, yes, I’m very aware of how well certain marketing tactics work. There are some brilliant businesswomen using the good ol’ scarcity model to drive new clients their way.
Who can blame them, right? They make bank.
But there are others who are starting to question those kinds of strategies, even when it means making less money.
I’m in the second group.
Get Your Selfie Stick: It’s Memoir Time
Sure, you run a greater risk of being seen—and judged—when you write about yourself, but is memoir really just the smatterings of a self-involved sociopath? Can anything literary actually be gleaned?
For a genre believed to be rooted in navel-gazing nonsense, there sure are a lot of memoirs getting published—and purchased.
“What is memoir? Is it the same as autobiography?”
When it comes to writing memoir, we’ve much to unpack. Buckle up.
The Power of Envy: You Gorgeous Green-Eyed Monster You
I have something scary to tell you and it’s not even Halloween yet.
Okay, so we’re not talking Stephen King kind of scary. But I think it’s something we women rarely admit to and that makes it feel like a taboo subject.
Envy.
That’s right, the green-eyed monster. Ever have to face her? Maybe you spotted her in your own mirror?
I have.
Why I Wrote about My Miscarriage
When the doctor said there was no heartbeat, I went out of my body. I know I began to sob uncontrollably until the sound inside of me became guttural. I know I moved from the table to the chair and tried to climb over it to escape myself. I also know that watching my boyfriend Aaron’s face crumble into his hands was the single most devastating part.
It felt as if I was watching myself from the outside looking in.
Write to Focus Your Grief
I’ve endured a miscarriage, a traumatic birth, isolation as a new mom, the loss of friends, the ending of a job I loved, and another health crisis. Plus the collective trauma we’ve all experienced as a nation.
To say I (and you) have felt grief would be an understatement.
But there’s one thing that hasn’t changed. My resolve to write about grief-ridden events. I hope you’ll join me in telling your stories.