The Celebration Jar: An Alternative to Meaningless Gift-Giving

I splurged and went shopping recently. Like, real shopping–whatever “real” means. (Isn’t the act of spending a day inside of a privately-owned mall slightly strange?)

I did things I hadn’t done in years. Wandered through big-box stores, large crowds, jingly Santa Clauses, screaming children, and wafting Cinnabon flavorings fuming into the crowded halls to make parents miserable. (I lasted about two hours– the smell and the onslaught of horrible stimulation gave me a headache within a few hours).

And I bought stuff. It was kind of delicious, scrumptious, and wonderful.

Warm winter jacket for New York? Check. It’s down, its fluffy, it’s got zippers, it’s got pockets, and it keeps me warm every day in this snowy season. Neon running outfit? Check. Running in the snow. Yes, yes, yes.  

While I’m not one for huge purchases or shopping–I’d rather scrounge in Goodwill for some third-hand shirts I can mend up and call my own– sometimes it’s nice to buy a thing or two.

But when is the right time to buy, and when is the right time to remember that you already have everything you need?   

1. For me, minimalism isn’t about restriction or restraint. It’s about freedom and joy.

It’s about not drowning in stuff—and knowing what you need. It’s about remembering that shopping isn’t the answer to your sadness, and that gifts don’t replace love.

One of my favorite quotes of all time reminds me of what I strive for:

Twitter-Bird Social_Media_Icons_CtrlAltDesign_V2-19“The antidote to consumerism isn’t minimalism–it’s art.”

So as you’re winding through your December journey into the advertising-laden world of spending and celebrating, consider how you’re spending and what you really intend behind your season of gifts. Is it made with love? Is it sent with love? And, if it’s coming into your house, is it ART?–is it something you will cherish, love, and adore? Then yes.

But it’s not even about gifts or things. One of my favorite ways to celebrate the holidays–beyond the delicious new coat that I got–is to remember what I already have that I love.

And, as a gift from me to you, here are ways I love thrifting–and putting a twist on–the season of gifts:

2. The celebration jar: wrapping up all your celebrations.

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We’ve been talking a lot about presents in my house, mostly because I’ve got so much stuff and I don’t need more of it–I need less of it. But I adore celebrating the seasons and celebrating each other. I also love gifting.

So we pulled out a jar–a vase. We wrapped a bow on it. I ripped up some old paper bags and we started scrawling things we’re happy for and grateful for. Each item gets its own note.

We fill up the jar for two weeks. We’ll open it on Christmas. (You can do this Christmas week, if you’d like, or pick a day to fill the jar and pick a day to empty the jar.

On our Christmas day, we’ll unwrap things we love–things like:

I love that you make the bed every morning.
My new warm jacket keeps me warm and toasty during New York winters.
Being able to see my family.
Morning snuggles on weekend days (and some weekdays, too!).
Knowing my neighbors.
A reading nook to read early in the mornings. 

What are you grateful for?

What can you celebrate this holiday–that you already own?

3. Things you can do and ways you can love–beyond traditional gifts: 

  • A card of all the things you love about someone.
  • A hand-written letter or gratitude card.
  • Date night and a home-cooked meal (also great for friends!).
  • Sauna night or gym night–pick a friday, go to the gym, soak in the baths, have conversations.
  • Movie night. Even cheesy or terrible movies.
  • Coupons or gift certificates for services, even of your own doing. (I used to give my mom coupon books for cleaning the kitchen and vacuuming the house all the time).
  • Books (see my list, below).
  • A reservation for a night away in a cabin for New Year’s.
  • A celebration ceremony with a gratitude jar.
  • A date for visioning, journaling, and planning during the new year.
  • A massage or a back rub for friends that are working hard.
  • A buddy yoga class–head there with your friend.
  • Donating food to those in need.
  • Spending time or volunteering at a homeless shelter
  • Volunteer for youth. (I’m donating time to my yoga studio’s Lineage Project–a volunteer project that serves incarcerated youth in New York City.

4. But gifting is fun! (You bet it is!) That’s why I also made a short list of alternative gifts for the loves on your list.

Gift-giving can also be wonderful. Want some great ideas for gifts? Here are my favorite ideas of things to get–if you’re a thing-getter. Perhaps an investment in your self, your soul, your brain, your body, or your well-being is the best way to go. Some ideas to fuel your inspiration:

  • The Desire Map by Danielle LaPorte: Start with the book ($22) and a workbook if you’re the kind of person who hates writing in books ($12). Grab a day planner if you’re feeling like you want to re-invent 2014. Write all. over. it. Dedicate January to revealing your feelings and starting the year with a bang.
  • The January Joy-Up with Hannah Marcotti ($29). A magic-making mastermind with daily collage and journal prompts. It’s $29. I’m already signed up and I’ve ordered a set of extra-large moleskines precisely for the act of visioning in January. I’m stacking up books, glue, and scissors (and a cutting mat!) so I can dream, dream, dream. I want to dream of speeches, books, essays, weird multi-media projects, business dreams, life dreams, and all of the other beautiful things we can manifest in our lives. Because thinking makes it possible.
  • The Joy Up Equation with Molly Mahar of Stratejoy ($149). This woman is gorgeous, gorgeous, gorgeous. So many women I know are. I am grateful to the internet for connecting me to them. With her, you’ll listen to your soul, journal for a month, discover more of who you are, figure out what brings you joy. (Pick one of the above and get INTO it already! Your life is waiting!)
  • The Writer’s Workshop: The January Edition. (My course, of course!) Our third cycle starts January 13th. A four-week course with our own private community, video lessons, weekly writing assignments, and heaping doses of honesty and inspiration. The course is $400 if you register before December 28th–$500 for regular registration. Take a class as your holiday gift. (PSST: Watch for a wicked sale coming out Friday, December 20th.)
  • The Content Strategy Course: A new course I’m teaching this February 17th–how to develop content and storylines for thought-leaders. Jam-packed with marketing wizardry, communication templates, and ways to get your voice heard. It’s also $400 as early-bird registration ($500 regular). (OH: And I’m announcing some CRAZY discounts Friday for the rest of 2013 if you’ve been itching to take courses with me. Pay attention.)
  • The Holstee Reclaim Frame ($44) and Art Subscription or Mindful Living Calendar — a new card each month that you slide into the frame, pulling out the previous one as a reminder to send a note to someone. (A great way to practice gratitude!).
  • Inquiry Cards ($25). A new form of meditation–in the form of questions for you to ponder and consider. Great for spiritual healers, coaches, visionaries, or anyone with an inkling to look… inwards.
  • YOUR version of freedom–whatever that means to you. Maybe it means nothing, maybe it means something, maybe it means savings. It’s your money. You choose. Do what’s right for you. These are just ideas.

A note of love, too: spend money consciously. Choose wisely. Whenever I purchase something, I also plan for the amount of time I’m committing to doing the project. Sometimes I know I don’t have enough time, but I sign up anyways because I want the taste of a few days. Other times I’m gunning for financial freedom and bigger goals, so it’s “nope, not this time.”

Do what’s best for you.

The point isn’t about just having to give something (or get something). It’s about giving with love, nurturing yourself, and remembering the spirit of the holidays.

Choose wisely, spend lovingly.

5. And…I’ll probably never be minimalist about books:

You caught me. I love books so much. (This is my current Amazon Book Wish List, and yes, you can totally buy me a book — I’d be honored).

I’ve read several books this year and last year that have been absolutely phenomenal, and I’m working on a master list that you can reference. Right now, I’ll whittle it down to my favorites, a sneak peak:

Philosophy and Spirituality:

  • When Things Fall Apart
  • The Untethered Soul
  • The Gifts of Imperfection
  • The Four Desires

Business:

  • Jab Jab Jab Jab Right Hook
  • The Small Business LifeCycle
  • Body of Work
  • Leaders Eat Last
  • The Sketchnote Handbook
  • The Year Without Pants
  • Growth Hacker Marketing
  • 99U: Maximize Your Potential

Fiction (or Narrative Non-Fiction):

  • Cuckoo’s Calling
  • The Fault in Our Stars
  • The Glass Castle
  • Behind the Beautiful Forevers
  • The Longest Way Home
  • Bend, Not Break
  • Ender’s Game

See more of my book list here: Sarah’s big beautiful book list of joy.

5. Even though I’m fairly minimalist when it comes to some things–I still love everything about gifting, celebration, and surprises of kindness.

So, par for the course: free book giveaways for the holidays!

I love giving things away. Actually, I love giving YOU things. There’s surprise and delight in gifting and telling people that you have a present for them.

Here’s what I have this month to give away to three of YOU:

  • The Sketchnote Handbook, by Mike Rohde (print version).
  • The Untethered Soul, by Michael Singer (kindle version).
  • The Power of Habit, by Charles Duhigg (kindle version).

What should you do to win one of these books?

Leave a note in the comments–and do it by December 28th, midnight, EST. Tell me what you’re grateful for this holiday season. Surprise me.

With big holiday love,

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Your job is to create.

Your job is to create something in this world. With your human hands, your brain, your vision, your dreams, your desires.

Make something.

Make something with your mind, with your hands, with your heart.

Put ingredients together and craft a batch of bread. Fold paper origami cranes. Make ideas come to life through words and speech. Build a bench. Take a painting class, a wood shop class, a soap-making class, an engineering class. Plant a flower bed. Grow herbs by your kitchen sink. Fix a squeaky wheel with WD-40. Paint a door.

You are the experiencer of the world, and it feeds you and fills you with rich materials for processing, making, and considering. You get to respond by putting your touch on the things and words and ideas you make in the world. You get to make your version of your thoughts with the matter and substance of the world.

Use your voice. Use your mind. Use your hands.

Create.

Creating is magic.

Tweet: Your job is to create.

(Pssst! If you want to create beauty and magic with your words, and spend time learning more about storytelling, writing + dreaming up beautiful ideas, join us as we begin round #3 of our Writer’s Workshop. The four-week journey begins January 13th.)

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The masks we wear–how we hide who we are.

We all wear masks from time to time: in our words, our habits, and our practices. We have an arsenal of crutches and shortcuts that slowly but surely hide who we are. They are things that prop us up and help us hide. We hide from our feelings and our desires. We hide from who we might become.

We drink coffee as a mask for how tired we are, or to replace what is really a lack of motivation for a certain project we’re involved in.

It masks how tired you are of caring for a newborn infant, or how miserable your boss’s cutting remarks make you.

The alcohol that you drink at night masks the fear and the stress feel from not having control during your day. Perhaps it helps to cover up the loneliness of your cubicle or help you get  through another night.

We project false smiles of protection to hide our fears, to be desirable. We wear high heels and new clothes and carry certain bags and advertisements to show a sense of self, a projection, an idea. We use extroversion to be well liked. We chase busy to mask our fear of not leaving an impact.

We cover a lot of things up. Scars we carry, stories we hold, work we’re afraid of doing.

Our selves, deep inside.

It’s not always bad to have a mask…

It’s not terrible to have masks, but they can’t be our only way of dealing with the world. If we spend the entire time warding off the world and hiding from ourselves, we’ll miss the best parts. By hiding from the world, we hide ourselves, and we lose a piece of our souls.

Many of us have lost touch with ourselves, our souls, with the tender, tired, scared part of itself.

Here’s the catch…

Releasing a mask requires feeling. It requires having a real, honest, scary, less-than-desirable feeling. Letting go of your mask means you might need to say,

By golly, I’m tired.

And no, I don’t want to do this.

Or, I’m scared. I’m scared of messing up. I’m scared of doing a bad job. I’m worried that I won’t be liked. I’m worried that I might try and I won’t be good at it.

Letting the barrier down requires Guts. Honesty. Softness.

Looking at the impulse before we rush to snatch a cover, and breathing in recognition:

Your feelings are clues.

These feelings inside? They aren’t enemies. They are clues. Feelings are way points in an uncertain world, direction markers that guide us back into the brilliance of ourselves, if we’ll allow it. The trouble is it can be uncomfortable and downright painful. Feelings you haven’t had in years might surface to remind you of areas of internal work you still have to do.

And your masks were protection, once.

The masks aren’t all bad. Sometimes pulling down the mask and showing your face requires gentleness and slowness. Your mask might have served you at some point. A therapist in my yoga training reminded me that these coping mechanisms shouldn’t always be disarmed quickly. Children of abuse who learned how to harden and deaden their senses built masks in order to survive those times. These mechanisms and masks were useful–they helped you survive. They got you here. They protected. Unlocking them too quickly without new ways of being can also be damaging.

But at some point, perhaps you might notice you’re still wearing one.

What masks are you wearing?

What masks do you carry?

What do you hide?

Can you lower it for a bit?

With love,

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Looking for a place of love and kindness? Join our upcoming Grace & Gratitude micro-workshop, a two-week journey to cultivate grace and gratitude in your life. Two weeks of daily stories and exercises designed to bring light, love, and joy into your life–one photograph, project, and quote at a time. Sign up here (or give as a gift this holiday). We begin December 1. 

The hidden power of doing interviews (and how to get better at them).

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I used to hate interviews. I stammered, I inserted words such as “like” and “um” a whole bunch, and my voice pitched up at the end of nearly every sentence.

I sounded exactly like what I was—a young 20-something female with insecurity about my ideas.

Then I started listening to the interviews and analyzing them. I paid attention to everything—from the sound of my voice, to the way it pitched up, to my breathing, looking at the construction of sentences, and trying to understand the moments when it felt like I got insecure versus when I was the strongest and most confident.

Each time, I focused on something I could improve. My voice lowered, which made me sound more confident and also feel more confident.  I slowed down. I added more breath, which built calm. I layered back in some room to giggle and rush through my words, because when I get excited I speed up—and I like that authenticity. It also occurred to me that I like doing interviews at a particular time of day—early afternoon, when I’m starting to feel very chatty and I want to talk to people. I started scheduling them for times that fit well with my brain schedule.

Getting better at interviews.

To get better at interviews, and presentations—the best way is to do them over and over again.

Grab a friend (or a video) and set yourself up with a mock interview. Chat for twenty minutes. Share your ideas. Let yourself ramble. Then, watch the tape. Ask for feedback. Where were you your best? What made you shine? What parts could improve? Work out each of the little stumbles until you feel comfortable with the sequence of changes.

Find out what makes you feel good. Set up a room, an environment, a location that you love. Maybe you scout out the person beforehand. Maybe you have your favorite cup of coffee–and your favorite glass of wine before hand. Maybe you need to warm-up to conversation with a trusted friend before you start.

Perhaps you write out ideas in advance so you have a cue sheet or you’ve done some advance thinking. I like to ask my interviewer for a general topic list and sample questions so I know what area(s) we’ll be chatting about. Sometimes I’ll write out an essay answer the night before to the questions–and while I won’t read it out loud the next day (it sounds terrible on tape, FYI), just the act of doing the thinking helps set me up for good stuff later.

Learn to love the process: self-reflection and being able to identify how to make changes is powerful.

Why I love interviews.

Now, somewhat surprisingly, I actually enjoy listening to the interviews I get to do.

Beyond the technical considerations and feedback, it becomes a place to test ideas and learn from the medium of voice. For some reason, the way I explain things out loud is different than in print—and so the spoken word becomes a place for me to learn more about my thoughts.

Listening to interviews is a chance to mine your mind for thoughts and ideas, and write out some of the ways you construct sentences, thoughts, and observations. You can pay attention to when you get excited, where you stumble, what you get frustrated or stumped by, and what comes easily to you.

A good interviewer will ask thought-provoking questions, and often I’ll stumble into a new area of ideas that I haven’t written about yet, yielding juicy content and rich ideas for future essays. I discovered that the ideas we unearthed were seeds waiting to be watered, new ideas to plant. I still love writing far more than I love interviews. I prefer to be alone, with my thoughts and ideas, sharing my brain through this pen-and-paper medium. When you read my posts and my books, you get my brain.

But interviews can be potent sources of discovery and idea generation.

This week, I was interviewed by Joel Zaslosfky over on the Value of Simple podcast. We talk about identity, how difficult it is to define yourself and what you do, the drawbacks of storytelling, and the power of addiction in both positive and negative terms. If you have a half an hour today, download it and take a listen and let me know what you think.

What to write about when you don’t know what to write about.

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What do you do when you don’t know what to write about?

When you’re stuck or worried or wondering what to say next, write anyways.

Write about things that no one is talking about.

Write about the things that are whispering in your ear, that seem strange, or that seem off, somehow. Write about the things you’re not sure if you should say. Tell the stories you haven’t told yet. Say it anyway.

Write about what makes you angry, or what seems paradoxical.

Write about how the New York Times keeps writing about how we should get more sleep, eat less sugar, drink less coffee, walk more, and that sitting is dangerous – and yet what if the people who write the pieces are still living sugar-filled, caffeinated, stationary lives? What does it take to actually enact habit change, or motivate change?

Write about how Fast Company talks about digital sabbaticals yet never seems to stop posting on the damn internet. I feel like I’m drowning in Fast Company Facebook Posts. It’s like FastBook, except it’s going too fast for me and I want to slow down. Maybe Fast Company can take a digital sabbatical and save the rest of us a day. Less FOMO, more JOMO.

Write about how the deluge of life coaches means something significant (maybe that we really are all screwed up?) or that maybe we’re in an ever-increasing flood of informational internet opportunities that’s just a fancy pyramid scheme in disguise (do I believe this? I don’t know); or, alternatively and more optimistically, that the idea of a life coach is indicative of a culture that has lost something. Write about a culture that has forgotten how to describe the value of people of immense wisdom, of mentors, of friends, of age, and of colleagues who give us the increasingly scarcest resource of all–ample time and thoughtfulness and attention.

Or perhaps–and you should write about this, or maybe I should, we’ll see–maybe it means that we’re a culture devoid of meaning, that we’ve lost the rituals, practices, habits, and deeper connectivity to the earth and to our own spirituality (to God, to the universe, to anything). Talk about how our post-enlightenment love affair with science has led us so far astray from the knowledge and wisdom we’ve had for thousands and thousands of years (the yogis emphasized the importance of meditation five thousand years ago; the scientific papers are just beginning to understand why this is true). Perhaps religion and science are hand-in-hand, and both will make the other stronger, as each catches up with the other (and more importantly, acknowledges the other).

Write about why we search for a reason and an understanding for who we are. Write about why we seek to understand why we’re doing what we’re doing.

Write about what it’s like to be curious.

Write about what it’s like to see. Capture the world in words, as best you can. Really write it out–the details and nuances and intricacies of where you are, and who you are, right now.

Write about how digital technology and interconnectedness is changing us, and what you think the future of the internet is.

Speculate on the future of public space, and whether or not democracy and digital connectedness are serving us.

Write about problems around the world that we collectively ignore because the hip gyrations of a young teen is more mesmerizing than the assassination of twelve human lives.

Write about how the next $500 ebook or self-guided course isn’t going to get you where you want if you don’t actually read it. Wonder why people buy things and still don’t take action.

Write about how fucking mad you are, and your inside feelings that you’ve been locking up for years.

Write about what it’s like to be you, and what makes you angry, and what makes you blissfully happy. Write about the tools you use to numb yourself, because we all try desperately to avoid sadness and misery, and we stuff ourselves with caffeine, sugar, stimulation, pot, television, phones, and other instant-pieces that fill our minds with avoidance. Write about the things we do to numb us from actually feeling.

Admit that you have a body, that you have a soul, that you’re damn depressed and the reason for that is because you actually believe you’re capable of a lot more–and you haven’t figured out how to make the magic happen yet.

Write about what it’s like to be one single individual cell within your body, a particle so small it’s incomprehensible; yet it’s dependent on the air you breathe and water you give it to pulse and beat and carry out its marching orders.

Write about what it’s like to be you, here, and now.

Write about what you feel, and have an honest conversation with yourself about it. Crack the vulnerability open a little bit. Watch for the flood gates. Let the floods come. Have some fucking feelings, and roll around with them. Discover your desires. Write them in big bold beautiful ink on the insides of your body (or the outsides) and on the walls of your living space and in the margins and pages of your notebooks.

Write about the fact that we have no walls anymore or natural barriers to say no, and so we’re constantly flooded with requests that make us anxious, tired and depressed.

Write about what the future will say of Steve Jobs, and how our collective idolization might be washed away if we discover that the advent of the personal and mobile computer–while an exceptional tool for human creativity–also created the unintended consequences of contributing to alarming obesity rates couple and such sedentary humans that our internal IQ’s went down as much as they increased through the information access we enabled.

Wonder about the future of the internet and how it’s changing our lives. Take a piece that someone has written and respond to it, thoughtfully. React. Respond. Listen.

Poke the box. Fuck it, shake it. Stir it. Challenge Seth Godin, give him an essay that makes him think harder, question each of your idols, re-examine your mantras. Think twice about the information you’re given. Disagree and argue. If you construct it well enough, I bet Seth would be fascinated with the conversation you create. You might be wrong. So what? Admit it, and try again.

Think, and then think again.

Write about people who have adrenal fatigue, who are too tired to keep up with work. Write about how an obsession with productivity is wearing down the souls of the people who are trying the hardest; the people we need to continue to be vibrant. Write about what a waste of time email is. Write about how you would do things differently–and then write about how many steps and stumbles it took for you to make it happen.

Write about how your heart bleeds when you hold a tiny infant in your arms because, just for a hot second, the world’s energy moves through your heart center and you feel both restfully still and a live pulsing, and you’re connected through your chakras to a deeper reason for being, and in that bliss, you look at the limitless possibilities in that tiny breathing being and you think,

Damn, that’s perfect, perfect,

and you look at yourself and you think,

what the fuck happened?

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[ You are still as beautiful, you know. You already are beautiful. You are always capable of beauty. ]

[ You’re perfect, in exactly that messy way that you are. It’s just hiccups and hangups that occupy the world, and get all messy inside your brain space. ]

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Cultivate Wonder.

Wonder about change, and how it happens. Breathe into the space and creases and pockets of your lungs. Describe what it’s like to be a cell within your body. Touch the sensation of one side of your body, and then the other side. Pause for a moment and detail–in delicious words–the tracing of a finger around the circumference of your body. Close your eyes and imagine where the edges of your humanity are: can you feel them?

Pick an object and tell the story of its life. Talk about what it was before it came into your consciousness, where it was made, and how its life intersects with yours. Wonder where it goes when you toss it flippantly to the side. Consider waste streams and garbage, and capture the movement of things through systems by tracing one item through time.

Write about something that isn’t being said.

If you have a thought, or a joke, or a cranky opinion—and you want to rant, or write, or change the topic—do it.

Write about the things that should be different.

Write a story about a conversation worth having. Write about your experience, and then write about how that connects to larger issues. Write your story. Write about what it’s like to be you.

But for the love of all of it, tell your story, and say what needs to be said.

There’s plenty to write about. Go on, get writing.

Less is more, imperfect is perfect, and done is done: 17 tips, tricks & habits I use for writing, creation + business-building (or any creative pursuit).

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What’s better than perfect? Done is better than perfect.

Part of the beauty of writing, asking, and making projects is actually doing them. The best way out of something is often through it. Getting it done is where the art is. Seth Godin says “ship.” I say “do.” It means the same thing. Make it happen. Get it done.

It doesn’t matter whether or not you create the perfect product, the perfect essay, or the best story in the world; what matters is whether or not you have the nerve to ask and to create.

Sometimes you need to execute more and think less.

Rather than listen to all the voices that say you can’t do it, or why you’ll fail, take a step out and get started. Moving through something (physically, through action) is the best anecdote to stress, fear, and worry. At least this is what I’ve learned so far.


“What’s better than perfect? Done is better than perfect.”  (Tweet this)


Last Friday we wrapped the third week of my private Writer’s Workshop, a small group of writers that signed up on a 3-week journey and exploration in creative writing, narrative formation, storytelling, and persuasion. The class, a 15-module intensive, took us through a whirlwind a writing exercises and outlines frameworks and ideas around storytelling, understanding who you are, and the art (and difficulty) of creating a writing practice. (Side note: I’m so proud of them!!)

Often, as I work with clients and writers and with myself, I find a common middle section of any creative project or endeavor that’s fuzzy, mucky, uncomfortable, and scary. When we start any new practice–any art, any craft, anything that takes time and dedication and involves a bundle of newness–it’s terrifying. It’s that moment when the demons and creatures and critters tumble out of your neatly stacked closets, giggle and jump on your bed, and start a dance party that rattles you enough to make you think that starting was a bad idea.

But all those thoughts, all those jumbles, all that cranky and temperamental and strange stuff that pours out just when you were getting started–that is the good stuff.  That’s what you’re made of. That’s where the weird, wonderful, and zany comes from. It’s right at the beginning and when we get started that e need to set down the judgments and trade them for observations, noting only that we have this smattering of extremely strange and uncomfortable critters setting up a band show across our normally-made bed (Hah! You really think I make my bed? Right. Onwards).

One of my favorite lessons from the three-week class is my lesson on my personal writing and creation mantras: a bundle of tips, tricks, and habits that I keep posted up on my walls and in various locations as reminders and mantras towards my better self.

When I feel like crawling under the bed into the safety of the darkness and I think that the critters inside my mind will break everything in my house just by being them, I look at one of these mantras, breathe in a little bit, and remind myself to keep going.

I can survive a little hair-pulling. I can survive crayons all over the floor. I can survive the messiness. I can survive a massive dance party instigated by imaginary creatures in my mind. I can survive the Wild Things. I CAN SURVIVE THE MESSINESS! Because truly, the messiness is me. And in the exercise, I ask each person to create a list of mantras of their own (or to adopt whichever ones seem to fit from below).

What are your writing mantras? What are your creation mantras? How do you create your best self, and your best work? Here’s my list, to start you off.

17 Tips, Tricks & Habits I Use for Writing, Creation, Building and Motivation (Or Any Other Creative Pursuit).

In whatever your journey, the journey is about you.

Each person has a different dream, and your dream is the one that’s important in this journey (not anyone else’s). Your dream may be to write a book, to author a hundred books, or maybe to write a single essay. Perhaps your calling is to learn how to craft love letters to the important person in your life, or the important person who will be in your life after you write the story of how they get there. Writing might be a tool in your arsenal of visioning and dreaming, or it might be a process of self-discovery. Just like Gretchen Rubin writes “Be Gretchen,” so do I have sticky note on my wall that says: “Be Sarah.” Be you. Only you can be you.

In turn, the more I am me, the more me I become. Writing has been immensely useful in developing my relationship with myself, and seeing who I am and how I’ve grown. The better facility I gain with words, the better I get at processing, feeling, and learning from emotions.

The only system you need is the one that works.

I set up two key writing days for myself, with two optional mornings to write. I make these days priorities where writing is key; on the other days, writing is optional but always a possibility if I make time for it. If I find myself not writing or publishing as much, it’s a key to me to adjust the system—maybe I need to dial back the emphasis on other parts of my life and find another morning or night to dedicate an hour or two to writing. (Tweet this!)

The only system you need is the system that works

Habits are important frameworks.

Every writer I know talks about the importance of ritual and habit—whether it’s a morning pattern or a daily habit. For me, I have a few loose frameworks that guide me towards my larger goals—I try to publish once weekly, at minimum, and I try to write at least three days per week. Some weeks I write every day (I love writing, and I’ve been in the habit for a few years so I’m long familiar with this); and other times I only write once a week or so. When I find myself writing less, there’s inevitably a day or a two that month that the ideas start to come pouring out because I haven’t given them time to breathe.

My weekly structure gives me two mornings and two evenings to focus on writing; while I can break these rules and patterns occasionally (there are always conference calls to China that pop up), I try to keep at least 2 or 3 of the times for myself so that I can write.

Within a given month, I try to make sure at least one weekend is “clean”—in that it doesn’t have travel, events, or anything else scheduled on at least one (if not both) of the days. Often I actually have to go in and preemptively schedule the day out for writing so I don’t muck it all up with too many appointments. I’ll set a date with myself at one of my favorite coffee shops and plan to go, write, and eat for 4-5 hours that day and focus on writing and writing alone.

It takes longer than you think.

Writing is about philosophy, about articulation and detailing ideas and getting clarity around a concept or an idea. The harder the concept or the more challenging the story, the longer it will take you to work through it. It can take me several hours just to piece together a single story framework. If I have less than an hour, I usually can’t get to a depth or a place that I want to get and I become quite frustrated. I try to block out at least an hour, if not two hours, for my morning and evening sessions. Lately I’ve found myself losing track of time – I’ll come home around 7:30 or 8 pm, start writing on a Friday evening, and I’ll look up and the clock will read 12 or 1 AM and I’ve got to put the pen (or computer) down and head to bed so I can make it through the day reasonably the next day.

Deadlines are critical.

I have weekly goals (I call them frameworks) and monthly goals that serve as a baseline for what I want to make in the world. Some months I can’t possibly achieve it, and that’s fine—I try to strike a balance between pushing myself and enjoying myself during the process. If I’m going absolutely nuts and feeling overwhelmed, scared, and exhausted, then that’s not any good. My goal isn’t to make myself miserable! But if I go for more than a month or two without maintaining my baseline and I don’t notice things changing, I step in and re-evaluate what I’m working on and see if there is something I can say no to so that I can make space for more of my writing.


“To achieve great things, two things are needed: a plan, and not quite enough time.” – Leonard Bernstein  (Tweet this)


It’s okay to take breaks.

I took an entire quarter off from writing my blog last year by taking a week off of work and writing 8 posts and spacing them out over a couple of months–all so that I could take some much-needed time to rest and rejuvenate my soul. I tend to work on projects in “seasons,” and define goals within each season—and there’s often at least one rest season (read: Winter) during each year so that I can restore myself and think about what to build next. Sometimes during a Spring or Summer season, I’ll focus more on one aspect of a project (like launching a writer’s workshop, or swimming a bunch), and I’ll dial back on my other responsibilities and goals so I can make it happen.

Set parameters and end dates.

Always set end dates. Give yourself permission to finish something. As you think about the next phase of your writing practice, consider what your goals might be. I highly recommend starting with a small framework (of perhaps 3-4 essays) and building a series around one particular topic, and finishing it. It’s imperative to finish a project and have something to point to. Most people don’t need to start an indefinite blog to create work in the world.

I’ve created many small projects based on sub-topics (as an example, I wrote a 20-essay blog strictly on my experience of the environment in San Francisco with details of the fog, homeless, and urban lifestyle; I started the project knowing that I wanted to spend a summer ‘collecting observations’ about the city I loved, and that the project would wrap by the end of the summer). The writing was fun to do, I got to tell stories in a way that was different than I’d been doing before, and I now have a collection of essays that I can use as writing samples, that I can pull from in future stories, and that I could eventually turn into a bigger project if I felt the itch to do that. (As I’m always saying: get started and do something, and learn from it!)

If it’s too big to do, make it smaller.

If you’re feeling overwhelmed by an aspect of your project, get way smaller. Just do a tiny bit of it. We work in fragments of time that add up, slowly. Today is just a day. Carve an hour, do a small bit.


“If it’s too big to do, make it smaller.”  (Tweet this)


The BEST way to reduce stress is to do work on the project, not avoid it.

Want to feel better? Get started. That’s it. That’s my secret. Everything is part of a larger conversation. You’re just starting with a piece of it, and giving that nuance.

Read well. If you can’t read well, you can’t write well.

Get rid of the trash. Unsubscribe from blogs and news that aren’t helpful. Unfollow people that don’t fill your feed with good stuff. Fill your brain. Push it. Challenge it. The most important thing you can do to be a better writer is read. I recently listed a years’ worth of my favorite books, and I’m already embedded in at least half a dozen new novels, historical accounts, and business books this month alone. Immersing yourself in good quality writing is the best teacher. Seek out people who push you and challenge you and feel free to say no to the rest.

There is no good writing, there is only good re-writing.

When I work with new writers, I often tell them to expect the first page to be “full of shit, with a few gems hidden in there somewhere.” It takes time, patience, and a whole bunch of red-lines to work with words on a page. It also takes the courage to put words down on paper without initial judgment or concern. Just do it, and let yourself write. Don’t let your judgment of yourself preclude you from starting in the first place. Trust that it can continue to get better with editing, time, and practice.

The goal is not complex words and simple ideas, but simple words and complex ideas.

If you can’t explain it simply, you don’t understand it well enough. Writing does not need to be complicated, pretentious, confusing, or full of jargon. To me, writing is a process for building understanding for yourself, and others. For myself, I often copy notes, explore ideas, and re-work words on a page just to tango with an idea until it makes sense in my mind. If I can’t explain it to people, then I’m not well-versed enough in the concept. Writing is a tool for communication (externally) as well as understanding (internally). Often, much of my writing is just about my words, rants, ideas, and explorations–before any of it gets shared with anyone else.

Let your voice develop.

Every writer has a different personality and voice, and learning what yours is takes time and practice. I’m often influenced by my favorite writers—leaning more towards a New York Times persona when I spend a Sunday reading the opinion pages, and oscillating back towards a bossy voice when I spend too much time listening to lectures. In between all of this input, I need to carve out time to develop my own voice and persona; this is a craft that takes many iterations. Start practicing!

What you take out is just as important as what you leave in.

Getting to a clear, simple essay or point is not straightforward. Often, I have to write 5-6 pages just to get to a distillation of one great paragraph. It’s part of the process.

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Capture your ideas however you can.

I love keeping a notebook and jotting down my ideas. Inspiration can show up during your routine, and it can show up at any time. I keep a pocket recorder on my phone and I talk stories to myself while walking through the city or driving in a car (why is it that driving triggers so many new ideas!?). I keep the recordings as well as my digital notes and I send them to myself via email to a folder called “notes.” When I get back to my computer, if I don’t have any ideas that are pressing, I go back through and read my short notes and scratching from the recordings, notes, and my notebooks, and find something that catches my attention. Then I begin with that.

Take the time to build your space and your project.

The world needs to hear what you have to say. “The world” might just be your son, daughter, or significant other, but they still need to hear it. An audience of a handful of people is still an audience. (For more on this, read my thoughts on building your voice on the internet and why I think you should join in). It’s time. Say what needs to be said.

Know what you want and what you value.

This is an easy phrase to say and can take years of work. Learn what’s important to you. Get to know yourself. Write because it teaches you, not just because you have something to say. Write because it will make you a better person, and write because it helps us become more of ourselves.

Done is done.

Sign it. Seal it. Deliver it. A dream unfinished is not reality. It’s your job to create it. Make it happen. Done is done, nothing else.


“DONE is done. Nothing else.”  (Tweet this)


What about you? What creates your best self and your best work?

In the comments below, let me know: what are your writing mantras? What are your creation mantras? How do you create your best self, and your best work? 
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Losing everything, losing nothing: It’s all there.

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A few months ago I was typing notes furiously into the tiny screen of my phone, my go-to source for dumping ideas when a pen and paper isn’t handy. I pushed “new note” as the ideas flooded out of my mind that morning; suddenly, as the program opened up a new screen, it stalled, paused for a long time, and then flashed and wiped clean.

I scrolled with my finger. That’s strange, I mused. Nothing was there. A flash of panic coursed through my mind.

What the…<

I closed the program and opened it again. Nope, All gone. I was standing out in the middle of the marina waterfront in northern San Francisco, in the middle of a long run that takes me out and back to the base of the Golden Gate bridge on one of my regular routes. I had stopped to catch an idea that had popped into my head, and I was standing, writing, by the side of the bay, tapping furiously into my phone. My note was lost. Worse than that–there didn’t seem to be any notes at all.

Oh, shit…

Strangely, however, I also felt an immediate sense of calm. A wave of nerves passed through me, and then continued on. I felt the angst and also let it go. In an instant, it was okay. My ideas–well over 200 notes, written to myself in various moments of inspiration–weren’t physically present, but it was okay. I had created these thoughts. I could create more. The notes in my digital archives were lost to time, but the act of taking the time to write them down in the first place was not lost. You can’t erase showing up every day, even if the product disappears. You can’t erase the knowledge in your head, the mind that’s changed because of the practice, the way you now think because of the work you’ve put in.

My dad says the same thing about jobs—even if you lose a job, or walk away from one, or if you get bought out—they can’t take what you’ve learned away from you. You get to keep what you’ve learned. The ways you’ve changed aren’t erased.

I never recovered my 200 notes. The good news is that in the time it took me to write them down, I’ve cultivated a practice of creating ideas, and I can hold onto the confidence that I’ll keep showing up and keep creating new ideas. Perhaps even revisit old ones, with more sophistication. Even if we lost everything–all of the physical things we use to string our lives together–we would still be fine.

More than fine.

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Some other fun + miscellaneous updates: 

  • Friday, March 22 is World Water Day, so now’s a wonderful time to consider donating your birthday as a way to bring clean water to hundreds of people if you’re looking for a new project or adventure. I did it last year for my 29th birthday and had an absolute blast (and made fun of myself along the way, among other things…).
  • I’m in love with Adventure Sandwich, a new project to back on kickstarter that builds an imaginative children’s world out of cardboard. The world needs more of this! 
  • While I’ve been a bit quieter-than-normal in blog world (I’m actually surprised that so many of people have noticed and reached out to say so; I thought I was doing such a good job of keeping up with posting! Honestly, however, I’m deeply thankful to you for being a part of my internet life and this community of ideas and for all the wonderful spirits and minds I’ve met through these various journeys) — While I’ve been laying low, whoever, in the interim I’ve been enjoying wonderful conversations via the growing Facebook community of wonderful minds + ideas. Come say hello