Give Me Your Word

A Single Comment Healed My Writer’s Block

Photo by Nathan Powers on Unsplash

This Substack was not my idea. I was minding my own business in my kitchen, eating through a loaf of toast and jam, which is something I like to do when I feel out of sorts. Toast and jam is my creative self-care. And I was doing a great job of being nice to myself. So I was kind of surprised when it happened.

Slipping into Substack was neither “a moth to the flame” nor a “Borat and Pamala Lee Anderson” situation. It was way more stealthy and subtle, a frail ray of light in a pretty dark hour. If you know me, you know that I don’t go dark often. Unless we are talking humor. But otherwise, I am one of those annoying optimists.

For the three years prior, to devouring slices after slice of warm toast and jam, I had been on a creative rollercoaster, creating and pitching a TV series. It was a wonderful whirlwind to say the least, collaborating with women I admired, who had successful track records in the market. I felt like the rookie at the big league, but I was holding my own.

We took the project to Hulu, Netflix, Amazon, Amazon Family, NBC, etc. Each time, due to my eternal enthusiasm, I was sure it was on the verge of a green light, so close I could almost touch it. But then, it wasn’t. The project drifted into the ethers, and for the first time in my life, I experienced what felt like a creative miscarriage, and I found myself in a state of despondency.

I still had a life to attend to, communities to lead, kids to raise, meals to cook. But between all of those moments, I mostly stared at the wall. Sometimes I didn’t even get as far as the wall, and found myself staring at the blurred air a few inches from my nose. I spent a lot of time just… staring. So the toast was a small improvement.

And then, one day, between slathering toast with thick layers of jam and aiming it in the general direction of my mouth hole, I read a piece by

Holly Huitt

, about her sons picking berries, and heading to day camp, and measuring their lives in hours. It was a story about holding things lightly. And it moved me. Moved me enough to do something I hadn’t done in a while. I began to write, and I left a comment.

I read this while eating toast and homemade jam at my kitchen table. The jam was made from Irish berries by my friend Olive and was given to me as a parting gift before she drove me to the Dublin airport. Now, the jar is almost empty, and I am sad to see the ending on the horizon. My son Liam comes through the door; he is 23 and carrying store-bought berries. How odd. What is all this about sons and berries? He once wandered our yard in a sagging diaper, pulling all the tomatoes off the vine and eating them by the handful. And now, as I take in your words, he enters with the berries he obtained by driving himself to the store. I lick the jam from my fingers. This stuff is raspberry gold, and I don't want to waste a drop. We are many hours older, and my heart hangs heavy on the vine.

Thanks for the memories. Protect those berry bushes.

Feeling expressed was reward enough. But then something else happened. Other readers liked my comment and a few more, and one commented back. It was a small nudge of connection, and yet it was enough. Enough to get me writing again. Enough to get me looking at Substack not just as a place to post, but a place to converse, connect and maybe even a place that could help someone climb out of a hole.

Over the years, I have witnessed myself engaging in a certain creative complacency. Taking in art and offerings and then scroll on to the next meal. All while likes and hearts are FREE! It made me think about the art of a good comment. Art is designed to cause connection, when something rings a bell in you, the bell may be silent. But it does not mean that we should be.

Engagement of any degree is generous and courageous. But there seem to be stages. The first stage is consuming and moving on. The second stage is leaving a like, heart or emoji. The third stage is a private message. The fourth stage is public praise. Then, there are the people who want to connect mutually, who want to write back. Writers and creatives willing to share about the bell that was rung, what it made them think, and how it left them changed. When that happens, the circle is complete, the arrow has hit a mark, and something is ushered in, something real and good like finding an extra jar of jam in the pantry.

Here is the thing. When you comment on media platforms like Substack, you are not just speaking to the author but the community. You are putting your voice out there in a way that allows others to discover, engage, and connect with you.

After experiencing the small ripple my comment made on another’s feed, and the benefit I received from the ripple back, I decided I would do my best to leave a comment on everything I read. There are thousands of great writers and creators on Substack, and if I could, I would subscribe to them all. But I can’t. What I can do is give back with likes and comments especially when something rings the bell.

Writing can be a solitary journey. But it doesn’t have to be. Sometimes the best stuff happens in the comments. So I’m here to encourage you as a creative/writer. When it comes to selling your books, and projects, engagement and connection are just as important as the words you put on the page.

So, give me your word. If you are unsure what to write, I’ve posted a prompt below by

Laura Kennedy

, one of my favorite Substack writers.

I’ve also added a couple of invitations further down. One is for a virtual Affirmative Prayer class that will surely clear the kitchen pipes; the other for Voice Box Stories and Serenade, our monthly story event. The final invite is to join us this Sunday at SpeakEasy on Zoom. We will host the exquisite minister, writer and poet, Rev. Celeste Fraizier.

As always, enjoy dessert.

Love, Maur

I am sharing this prompt from

Laura Kennedy

, at Peak Notions, for whom I am a paid subscriber. Her writing makes me think. If you find the prompt gives you a few years of your life back. Head on over to Peak Notions and leave a comment there as well.

PROMPT

1. When you think ‘the other guy’ is nuts or stupid, put serious intellectual effort into constructing the most charitable and strongest possible argument in favour of their position. Avoid engaging in conflict or critique until after you’ve done this.

Write on.

INVITES

I used to be shy. I used to stumble over my words and overthink everything. It wasn’t until I began telling other people’s stories—as an actress—that I realized my story mattered too. So that was a big part of the healing.

But then, something even deeper happened…through Spiritual practitioner training, I started to notice there were stories I no longer wanted to tell. Stories that weren’t stories at all—just a regurgitation of complaints, comparisons, and self-criticism. I was speaking limitation into my own life without even realizing it. It was a wake up call.

Affirmative prayer is one way to practise telling the truth and putting some fire behind it. Learning Affirmative Prayer showed me the power of my words. It made me get real clear about the beliefs that were holding me back—and gave me the ability to rewrite them. To tell a new story.

Voice Box Stories & Serenade

This month at Voice Box, Scott Tipping joined us! Along with Mary Lou Edwards, Rainbow Graves, Mitch Mayer, Louis Greenwald, Thunder Ruthven!

We have a contribution to the world's healing that only we can make, and on which the entire planet is waiting. Our mission is not merely about our private realization of oneness, but to extend love and forgiveness and undo the separation we thought we needed to feel whole.

This Sunday we welcome Rev. Celeste Frazier as our guest speaker, as well as music guest Maisie Bull!

Dessert

This will make you feel so much better about yourself. Enjoy!

Okay, this is what it’s all been leading to. Love, Maur