This time last year, I was in the midst of applying for Argentine residency and couldn’t leave the country. The idea of being stuck and unable to travel was, to say the least, uncomfortable, but since I was also hugely pregnant, the discomfort of an extra 40 pounds left me happy to stay home, sleep as much as possible and just wait for my baby to be born so I could resume my life.
That was the scene during which Creative Revolution Retreats emerged. Jeannie Mark, the fabulous Nomadic Chick, and I sat down to create this retreat that at the time only lived in our dreams.
- We knew we wanted a place where women could feel the freedom to write without worrying they aren’t good enough.
- We wanted a gorgeous setting that inspired us.
- We insisted on an environment that supports self care and self-acceptance.
Beyond that, we were swimming free without solid ground. We had no guarantee anyone would come to the retreat, so when we signed a contract with Samasati Nature Retreat to host our as yet imaginary retreat, it felt really scary. What if no one comes? What if we didn’t market well enough? How is this going to work?
Now that the first retreat is over, I can tell you, it not only sold out but exceeded my expectations tenfold. Ten women of different ages, backgrounds and experiences joined Jeannie and me to talk about our dreams, our fears, how we feel like impostors and worry about exposing our foibles. There was much laughter; there were tears, and on our last night, we held a reading so each woman could read the piece she developed over the course of our week.
Let me tell you. It. Was. Amazing.
We began with a group of women tentatively stepping into the jungle to see what was possible and ended the week with ten strong voiced writers who knew who they were and what they wanted out of writing and life.
It was life changing.
I, of course, changed over the course of that week, too.
The reason I understand the fears so many women have about writing and accomplishing life dreams is because I have them as well. Every time I pitch an editor, every time I push my boundaries, I have to quell the voices that tell me, “Hey, you know, you’re probably not good enough for that.”
The process of designing the retreat was a constant exercise in telling those voices to shut up, and there were many times during preceding months that I wondered if I could just back out, pretend it never happened.
Two things kept me on track.
One: Jeannie.
Having a partner, someone who is there to support you when you feel wobbly, is irreplaceable. We all need a voice that tells us “Yes, you can do it” to replace the one that fears we can’t. That can mean finding a mentor. Or sharing your work with a friend or trusted group of readers. Or it can mean keeping a gratitude journal.
Whatever works for you, but finding support is crucial! That is exactly the reason I set up my birthday mentoring exchange, so I can actively help other women find the support they need.
Two: I made a commitment.
In this case, money. We put down a deposit and signed a contract that required us to pay beaucoup bucks if we failed to fill our spots. It still takes my breath away thinking about it. The stress would have kept me up nights if I hadn’t made the conscious choice not to think about it. Instead, I forged ahead to make the retreat happen.
Dress for the job you want.
I have a friend who always tells me how great her writing is. I admit, I cringe when I hear it, because we women are trained not to think that way. We’re told not to be too full of ourselves. Don’t be too aggressive. Don’t brag.
But how much easier to move forward with that kind of unwavering belief in oneself? We don’t need the doubtful voice in our heads saying “Well, maybe. I dunno. I guess I can try.” Instead, we need to know, without a doubt that you are awesome, that your writing is spectacular and that you are hell yeah gonna accomplish great things? That is the voice we all need in our heads.
This is what I tell myself
The words I tell myself when I’m unsure and wobbly? I’ll figure it out.
That’s what I tell myself when I run across an article with advice on how to get a byline in the the New York Times, and I start to think, “Oh, they’d never take mine.” No, I’ll figure it out. When I’m overwhelmed with the sheer number of places to submit my writing. I’ll figure it out. When I’m reaching the end of a piece, it’s due soon, and suddenly I realize to my utter horror that what I’m writing is horrible, and there’s no way I can finish it. I’ll figure it out.
And you know what? I always do. I remind myself of this regularly.
After years of writing, I’ve learned one thing to be incontrovertibly true. When you are the most on edge, the most confused, it means you’re close to finishing. It’s uncomfortable, and maybe you’re at the point of despair because the voices are saying “Give up. Run away. What’s the point?” When all that happens, it’s actually a really wonderful thing, uncomfortable as it may be, because it means you are doing something you’ve never done before.
How do you silence those voices when they tell you you’re not enough?
