workshops

Writing as alchemy

Sitting down with a blank page and a pen has saved me in many ways, many times over, pretty much since I first learned to write. I have used writing to cheer myself on and up, to dig through the rubble of failure and find the light of motivation; I have used the page as an ear when no human could hear me; as a place of safekeeping for my darkest secrets and celebration for my private victories; to enjoy silence, and to scream. Whether the subject is mundane or astounding, the page has always been a place to cultivate wonder. This is what I try to do in my workshops.

For each event, I design an arc of prompts that encourage you to be your own ally. I curate these prompts around a theme, supplying good questions that point you in a new direction, or nudge you just outside your comfort zone.

The writing is rarely commented on. You don’t even have to share. It’s an individual, personal journey that we go on together.

I include the body on this journey. We sometimes put our pens down to breathe, to notice how what we’re writing sits in us physically, what it provokes. Breathing, releasing tension, and occasionally movement are ways we bring ourselves fully to the alchemy of writing.

I work with short writing times — usually about five minutes per question. It’s freewriting: no worries about grammar, spelling, or structure, and certainly not perfection. The goal is to open the flow between your inner experience and the page. Short, focused writing times blast through the part of you that wonders whether you have the right to say something — the part that may be ashamed, doubtful, or overthinking. Keep your pen moving and you will get to the essence quickly, and quite possibly stumble on something unexpected.

These workshops are not about the craft of writing. They are ways to interpret your experience, make connections, get a grip on what’s happening — to explore who you are, who you were, and who you want to be. They are also ways to celebrate life: to stop and take note of what is magnificent, what moves you, both the beautiful and the terrible.

I want you to leave our time together in a slightly different place: a question answered – or better ones raised; clearer about how the pieces of your life fit together; more confident about what you want; determined to change something or take action; or simply closer to yourself in some way.

You don’t have to “be a writer” to do this. You just have to write. Join me for my next workshop, below.