Things I’m thankful for, the value of rest, and other writerly things that stuck with me in 2024
Here is a half-baked list of a half-dozen things I’m grateful for in 2024.
1. Sue Reynolds and PJ writing
Writer Dolly Reisman introduced me to author, writer coach, editor and publisher Sue Reynolds and her free morning writing group, PJ Writing. 7:30-8:30 am, every weekday. This writing-in-community, creative-quiet opportunity has been my weekday practice since 2022 and has helped me accomplish so much. Even more, it’s given me a community of 30-40 writers from across the world with whom I adore writing every morning. This is how I got the first draft finished of my next book, Lost in France, the first draft of a new romance novella, and a baker’s dozen spec scripts for my TV and film life. [If you want to write with us in communal silence every weekday morning, you can join here. It’s zero pressure, you don’t have to share your work, and it’s a great way to start the day. Even if you don’t get any other writing done all day, by the end of the week you’ll have done 5 hours’ worth. That’s not nothing.]
Top writer tip that sticks with me that Sue shared in 2024: at the end of one writing stint, leave yourself some breadcrumb notes so you can make your way easily the next time. “Park downhill to make it easy to pop the clutch and get going tomorrow.”
Sue introduced me to another chance to get some writing down: Eileen Campbell-Reed’s Freewrite Fridays. I attended that for the first time this month, and, given it’s on a Friday, it allowed me to go one extra step in the week to push up my word count. I really appreciated this opportunity. One thing I know from TV writing rooms is that the writerly solution often appears right after you give up. I have a rule that, right after a writing room gives up, we stay another 15 minutes, even if we have to do it with bags packed and coats on. Invariably, a story option presents itself. This trick has worked time and time again. I think the act of deciding the effort is futile opens up a new pathway in the creative brain.
Bonus learning from Eileen’s session: she talked about ‘keeping the paint wet’ – in other words, visiting your writing often enough to let it know you’re thinking about it, so the writing goes more easily. It’s another version of ‘park downhill.’
2. Accountability buddies
There are several trusty, creative, supportive, wonderful people—they know who they are—who help me reach benchmarks and support me in the juggle (which some days feels like a struggle). I have one author friend with whom I check in for longer novel-length projects, another author friend for writer’s life accountability (productivity and sustainability strategies), one writing circle for kids’ writing; one screenwriter friend for screenwriting; and one author with whom I talk about artist entrepreneurship. We check in on different schedules and on different platforms—video call, phone call, email. With some I deliver writing, with others, a list of things I’ve done, and with others, we let ourselves do some good old-fashioned griping, problem-solving, and goalsetting.
With Sue Reynolds’ weekday online writing sessions, and the support of my accountability partners, this year I wrote almost 5 new feature specs—some written solo, some co-written with my husband Kirk (the last is at outline, and primed for January writing, so this is why I say ‘almost’ 5); I got my new novel Lost in France revised, copy edited, and off to my book agent; I wrote 46K words of a new serial; I wrote a new novella that will be part of an interconnected romance series; and I wrote the first draft of a new play co-written with Kirk.
3. Book clubs, book events and wonderful readers
At Last Count, my first novel, has taught me so many things. One of them is that book clubs, and readers, sustain books. Kathleen, Bonnie, Emily, Mary, Maeve, Phyllis and Ren are just a few of the wonderful readers who kept the love going for At Last Count in its second year of publication by sharing the book with friends, hosting book clubs, author events or fundraisers with me as a guest. Authors love the effort and energy kind, generous, creative folk put into their books. We, and our publishers, are so thankful.
4. Indie Bookstores
The other people who really are the champions of books are the folk who run independent bookstores. They know the books and authors, they care about them, and they, along with publishers (like my favourite people at Invisible Publishing) find creative ways to highlight books.
My bookstore heroes this year are:
Alison at Beggars Banquet Books
And Sarah at A Novel Spot.
A giant thank you to these three bookstores for all their support.
5. Super Solid Writer advice
A fellow writer said two impactful things to me this month. One: action kills fear. And two: what’s the worst that can happen? I’m holding this in my quiver of smart things when I lose my courage about moving forward with creative projects. Because…shall I say it again?
Action kills fear.
And what’s the worst that can happen?
6. The value of rest
I’ve been thinking about the value of rest—something I don’t allow myself very often. It was a large, massively productive year for both me and Kirk, and we’re feeling a little tuckered. A friend posted this on Facebook this week, and, well, same.
Kirk and I promised one another we’d do restful things this Christmas holiday, along with seeing family and cooking turkeys and doing loads and loads of dishes.
So I’ve been thinking about the value of rest. And suddenly old faithful Julia Cameron popped into my mind with her notion of refilling the well. I went to the bookshelf and found The Artist’s Way. [Side note—the inscription in this much read book reads, “Christmas, 1995. To help the most seriously fabulous world-rumbling babe I know on her way. All my love, Kirk.” Nice, no? Ironic that he gave me this book almost 30 years ago at Christmas, and that’s when I pull it off the shelf.]
Cameron writes:
“In order to create, we draw from our inner well. This inner well, an artistic reservoir, is ideally like a well-stocked trout pond. We’ve got big fish, little fish, fat fish, skinny fish—an abundance of artistic fish to fry. As artists, we must realize that we have to maintain this artistic ecosystem. If we don’t give some attention to upkeep, our well is apt to become depleted, stagnant, or blocked. Any extended period or piece of work draws heavily on our artistic well. Overtapping the well, like overfishing the pond, leaves us with diminishing resources. We fish in vain for the images we require. Our work dries up and we wonder why, “just when it was going so well.” The truth is that work can dry up because it is going so well. As artists, we must learn to be self-nourishing. We must become alert enough to consciously replenish our creative resources as we draw upon them—to restock the trout pond, so to speak. I call this process refilling the well.”
You can refill the well a bunch of ways. For Kirk, it’s knitting (obviously) by the fire, Christmas tree lights on, the fire going, an IPA by his side and CBC Radio on.
For me, there are a bunch of ways. A movie in the theatre with popcorn. Reading a book that is not for work. Writing for fun in the morning without the pressure of looming deadlines.
Also, we’re doing a bit of this:
[In our house, we adhere to the slapdash freeform method of icing Christmas and Hanukkah cookies. They have a short and happy life on this Earth—we want to release them as soon as possible.]
As for 2025, a Facebook memory of mine popped up today and I think this says it all about setting goals for next year:
The pieces of green tape you see at the edges are because this is stuck to the wardrobe right next to my desk.
Happy holidays. I wish for you a trip to your indie bookstore, some writing and reading for fun, and whatever else fills your well. It’s the end of a very busy year. We all deserve it.
Claire
