Start Writing | 2013 Writer’s Workshops (A three-week digital course for writers)

Imagine: a three-week course for writers to practice your craft, learn about writing tips and tactics, get direct feedback on your writing and meet other people in a small-group format. A way to enter the digital world. A place to get better at writing–and learn from others in direct conversation. An opportunity to learn about storytelling, narrative, and writing.

I hear from so many folks that want to write, but haven’t started yet–or don’t know where to start. Individuals with a developing writing craft who want to get better at storytelling, narrative, and online writing. People who have been writing for a while–and are ready to share their work with other people.


The act of starting something is powerful.” – (Tweet this)


I’ve been working this past winter and spring to develop a course just for this purpose: a 3-week digital writing workshop with daily exercises and a private, shared community of colleagues to converse with and learn from. I’m excited to share it with the world and invite you to participate!

Join me.

Start Writing BANNER_OPTION 2

The Details: Spring 2013 Writer’s Workshop

A digital writer’s workshop: A 3 week (21-day) adventure course on creative writing, storytelling, and blogging. Monday through Friday weekday essay prompts, 3 live calls and Question/Answer sessions, and a small, private group to meet fellow bloggers and community members interested in the same thing you are – writing.

Course Dates: The program starts Monday, April 29th and goes through Friday, May 17th.

The Goodies:

  • Fifteen introductory essay prompts and thoughtful phrases sent each weekday morning, plus a reading/thought reflection question. Each question will be a short exercise to stimulate your thinking, teach you a new writing skill, and (optionally) extend into a longer essay (if you have the time).
  • Live Q/A group calls every Wednesday at 5 PM PST (and recorded so you can watch later) to ask any questions you have about developing your writing, to ask questions and share experiences, and to talk about all things writing, blogging, brainstorming, storytelling and internet.
  • Weekend optional/alternative assignments to “catch up” on missed weekdays or do bonus writing (not required). Take the time to expand, re-write, edit, and hone in on one of your favorite ideas from the week.
  • A private, closed Facebook page for the group to talk to each other, share tips and ideas, and form connections with other writers looking to expand their practice.
  • A chance to submit your writing for review or feedback through a weekly “featured essay contest,” where I’ll be giving feedback directly to you on your essays and questions.
  • The choice to go at your pace: while prompts will be delivered daily, you have the option to select anywhere from 2-, 3- or 5-times a week writing (although I encourage at least three per week to help set the habit!). Pick what feels right for you and select your personal writing habit.
  • At the end of the course: a bonus pack of 15 essays prompts and ideas: an extra three weeks of self-guided writing after the three-week course. Would I send you off into the woods alone? Nope! I’ll give you more exercises for you to do at your own pace.
  • If you complete all the prompts and ideas (including the bonus pack) you’ll finish the workshop with 30 essays—enough for a year’s worth of blogging!
  • Crafted with love, design chops, and a desire to make an impact on your writing. Let me help you get started writing in this Spring Writers’ Workshop.

Learn About:

  • The power of great storytelling, and how to improve your storytelling.
  • Narrative Arc, storytelling formation, and writing structures including Joseph Campbell’s “The Hero’s Journey.”
  • How to add color, texture and detail to your writing;
  • Finding your own voice and story.
  • What to do when you get stuck and how to develop great habits for great writing

Explore:

  • New topics to write about and prompts for you to pursue
  • Thoughts and ideas from writers across multiple centuries.
  • Resources and tools to teach you more about storytelling, writing, and communications.
  • The psychology behind habit formation and building a writing practice.
  • The brilliance of your brain–you are already a wonderful thinker!–explore ways to let your voice come out on the page.
  • Engage in feedback and conversation with other writers, and get direct feedback on your questions, ideas and concerns.

Writing is essential to our creative self, our soul: write to learn and to live.” – (Tweet this)


This course is perfect for:

  • People with aspiring creative writing dreams;
  • Professionals looking at improving communication skills for day job;
  • Bloggers who want to improve their craft;
  • New writers who want to get started on a writing project;
  • People with a writing practice who want to meet other like-minded people.

Registration details:

THE SPRING 2013 WORKSHOP IS SOLD OUT.

Register here. Registration opens Monday, April 15th and closes Friday, April 26th (or when spots fill up).

If you’d like to join for a Summer Workshop, sign up to be notified of blog posts and future classes.

Summer 2013 and Fall 2013 Workshop Details coming soon. Registration will open June 1.

EARLY REGISTRATION: $300.

  • Registration closes April 26th or when the class is full ~ whichever comes first!
  • The course is $400 for three weeks, 30 total essay prompts, daily inquiries, three live calls, and a closed community of like-minded writers.
  • Miss a day? Exercises can be done throughout the week, before or after work, or you can catch up on weekends if you miss a day along the way.

I hear from so many folks that want to write but don’t know where to begin, or haven’t carved out the time yet. Many people are also writing but haven’t formed a community online. This course is designed to help you do both. The course will combine several of my teachings from the Storytelling workshops I’ve taught at World Domination Summit, Bold Academy and at General Assembly — as well as detail new processes and resources for your use.

Let’s get started – a private community and daily digital course focused on getting better at writing.

Want in? Join me!

Start Writing Registration Button_200

With (writing) love,

sarah signature

From love or hurt?

An overwhelming number of human reactions come from a place of love or pain. 

When someone offers you criticism, look at what they say (no need to internalize it immediately; instead observe it and ask yourself if the critic-giver is an important person or voice in your life, and how valuable it is); then: ask yourself if it’s coming from a place of love or a place of hurt.

If it’s coming from a place of love, they want the best for you and are telling you an honest opinion. It may sting, but it’s good for you.

46659_510911548946776_1302858649_n
When someone comments on your work or character from a place of pain in their life, it’s not actually about you. That person is hurting in some way, and lashing out. The issue is not about you. Bless them, wish them well, and realize that the commentary you need comes from a place of love.

Like it? Tweet it: “An overwhelming number of human reactions come from a place of love or pain.”

 

Losing everything, losing nothing: It’s all there.

IMG_7705

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.

sarah signature

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

Are You Over Thinking?

Sometimes the answer is just doing it.

Not thinking about doing it. Not writing about doing it. Not talking about doing it. And not waiting on it, or giving it more time.

Sometimes you just need to do it.

Anticipation can be deadly. Every time I have to jump into cold water or a cold pool, I can’t think about it too much. The more I think about it, the longer it takes to do it. The longer I think about it, the harder it gets to pull the trigger. The longer I think about it, the less time I spend actually doing it, and the more time I spend lost in thinking about it. The worst part is always the first three minutes as my body acclimates to the change in temperature from the outside air to the colder pool. And magically, after those three minutes, the sting wears off and I even begin to forget those moments pre-cold. Adaptation happens quickly. We forget our fears the minute we go ahead and get started.

The worst part is starting. Scratch that. Sometimes the worst part is the anticipation of starting. Sometimes the worst part is all that dang thinking you do before you start doing what you really need to just be doing. It’s all that thinking about starting that can paralyze you.

Quit that thinking.

The antidote to anticipation is action.

The hardest part can be just getting started.

Let’s Go For A Walk and Talk: Experiments in a Creative Series.

Point Reyes, California. Photo by Sarah Peck

“Modern literary theory sees a similarity between walking and writing that I find persuasive: words inscribe a text in the same way that a walk inscribes space. In The Practice of Everyday Life, Michel de Certeau writes, ‘The act of walking … is a process of appropriation of the topographical system on the part of the pedestrian, it is a special acting-out of the place … and it implies relations among differentiated positions.’ I think this is a fancy way of saying that writing is one way of making the world our own, and walking is another.”

— Geoff Nicholson, The Lost Art Of Walking.

Walking is critical to thinking, yet we are an increasingly sedentary society. Let’s move, think, wander. There is language and brilliance in movement, in walking and exploring. 

Or, perhaps as Austin Kleon says: “You are a mashup of what you let into your life.”

This past year, I designed an event series around spending time walking and talking with a small group of people in San Francisco (and expanded to Boulder, Colorado for a special session with the Bold Academy). The purpose of the Walk + Talk series was to explore different conversations and new spaces, as well as to test an idea that I’d been mulling over for some time: That walking (and movement) are critical to thinking, and that a walk can enable more vulnerable and in-depth conversations in ways that sitting and talking don’t always do.

For each event, I put together a set of ideas loosely related to a particular topic (with suggested readings and prompt questions), but certainly allowed for people to be free to wander off point and engage in their own imaginations.

Over the past dozen events, there have been several emerging themes and realizations. There are several reasons why walking is conducive to better thinking, from the positioning of our bodies in space, the the idea of a destination, to the elevation of our heart rates to 100-110 beats per minute. When you design scenarios that enable trust–and walking with friends can be designed to create a space of safety and exploration–the ideas and innovations and possibilities that result can be astounding. And sometimes, you just need to walk it out. Just as the peripatetic philosophers did years ago, let’s engage in a short walk and ask good, hard, interesting questions.

I believe in the importance of conversation and wandering and connectivity, and I’m exploring a theory that movement is essential for unlocking the thinking in our minds. I also want to create a space for respectful, fearless conversations, idea exchange, and explorations. Particularly or equally important was the group curation–I invited minds that I admired, thought leaders and people willing to be vulnerable and inquisitive; and kept the size small enough to create space for long-form conversation.

The fact that we’re creating a small but growing group of philosopher-wanderers who gather to muse about the future of the world, modern issues, and other topics at hand makes me incredibly excited. Each walk, a new theme is put forward, with suggested reading passed around in the group.

If you’re in San Francisco, ask about next event or email me to find out more–I tend to keep the groups very small, so space is limited.  The idea, however, is free. Walking and talking are inherently human activities and no one owns them, and I’ll be posting the reading sets for people to borrow on this website (please, take them!). If you find more readings or articles related to movement, thinking and consciousness, please send them my way. The world needs more walkers and philosophers. (And as a bonus: if you come up with your own reading set, send it my way and I’ll use it for a future group). 

Thoughts and musings for the afternoon:

  • How often do you take a walk?
  • Are you a solitary walker or a group walker?
  • When do you do your best imagining and thinking?
  • Is thought and movement related? How is movement important (and critical) for innovation and creativity?
  • Do you wander in places that are familiar or unfamiliar?

“It’s not about where an adventure ends, because that’s not what an adventure is about. Let’s get going.” – Matt Damon (In the movie “We Bought A Zoo”).

Tell me your story in the comments! I’ll be writing more on movement and consciousness in several future posts, and I’d love to hear from you.

2012: Year In Review

IMG_0134

Pelican on the San Francisco Bay, November 2012 (see below for the photo-behind-the-photo).

This is my typical annual review, a process by which I review this blog, my life (although not all of it is shared here), the lessons I’ve learned, and some of the growth that’s occurred through projects and processes I have (or more painfully, haven’t) achieved and accomplished. This review is tailored towards this blog and my work in psychology, philosophy and online community building; I’ll share each of the sections of the review in categories accordingly, and it’s likely to be a lot longer than most blog posts.

Why An Annual Review? 

I’ve been blogging here at It Starts With since May 2011, or for about a year and a half. Previously I wrote another blog for about six months, although I quickly tired of the title and theme and was frustrated with the design; before that I wrote essays for the local Examiner, many of which were cross-posted to create the early archives of this blog. Technically speaking, this site that you’re looking at didn’t exist until May 2011.

I engage in regular monthly reviews as well as a longer annual reviews similar to what Chris Guillebeau does–basically reviewing what went well and what didn’t go so well at year-end.

In the past year and a half, I’ve gone from zero subscribers and traffic and very little understanding of WordPress to designing my own website, playing extensively with Google Analytics and MailChimp, learning about subscribers, and interacting with a continuously-growing audience of some of the smartest and most interesting people I’ve ever met.

Where We’ve Been, and Where We’re Going.

More and more I’m convinced that very few of us truly understand the flattening and leveraging power of the internet: with consistent effort and publication of your ideas, you can find people and they can find you. No longer do we need to stay within the same location, job, city, or network, although the previous world constrains our thinking and perceptions of barriers more than we’d like to admit (or even understand). The best books I’ve read to this effect include Nick Bilton’s and Clay Shirky’s, among other of my favorite books from 2012.

In conjunction with this revelation that the internet allows us access and influence in ways not possible before, I’m also realizing how important understanding scale is for your objectives: and it’s not necessarily that bigger is better. Believe it or not, you don’t have to be the most important person on the internet (or in real life). The network size and community size you need is highly variable and doesn’t need to be that big–a lot is possible with access to just a few people, provided you cultivate the right niche and community. If you build a community of 100 people interested in knitting across your city, you can create a movement. The first YouTube video just crossed the 1 Billion threshold mark. The world is changing, as it always does. It’s exciting.

But back to this particular internet world, my blog:

Every year I sit down and look back at my piles of notes, writing, publication (on and off line) and the last year’s dreams. Dreams and goals are only as good as the number of times you revisit them to take steps or learn why you’re not doing what you want to be doing. Each annual review is typically a two to three-week process of reflection and discovery. Often I’m surprised, delighted, annoyed (and many other emotions) from discovering that in some ways, I’ve done more than I wanted, and in other areas, far less than I wanted. Continue reading “2012: Year In Review”

Why I Write

Someone asked me recently why I write, and I thought to myself, it’s because I must write. My brain knows that I have to do it. I can’t possibly imagine myself not writing. The question was silly, so it seemed. But then I woke up in the middle of the night, thinking to myself: I write because I have to. I write, because I need to.  And I realized that I ask other people all the time why they do what they do, what motivates them, and how they achieve their goals. And thus, in response to that same question I always ask others: this is why I write.

Asking me not to write is like asking me not to think. I write, because it helps me understand the world. It lets me put thoughts down in a place outside of my head, look at them, wonder about them, and push them further. I write, because it’s how I think.

I write, because I love stories. I am continually inspired by the people around me, and know that everyone has more experience and stories to share than could ever be recorded. I love hearing what people have to say, and learning from the amazing adventures of people around me.

I love ghost-writing. I like being able to help someone put ideas into word, to craft their mission statement, to fulfill their potential.  I have worked on many occasions as a ghost-writer for students and international people who have learned English as a second language. I know that for them, they must be much more articulate in their native tongue; I like being able to help translate these ideas and visions into print. I write, not because other people don’t have ideas, but precisely because they DO have ideas. If I can help capture your spirit, your ideas, and your thoughts in the tangible, printed form, I can think of no better gift to give you.

I write, because I love people. I am fascinated and star-struck by the wonderful, creative, talented, motivated, exceptional people around me. I can’t get enough of you. I think of life as the greatest blessing, and I love learning from other people.  When I get too busy, too full of myself, when I feel depressed, or when I get distracted: the people around me gently re-direct me towards a better being, they help me figure things out, they keep me grounded, they lift my spirits. I write about other people, and this act keeps me grounded by granting me a wider frame of perspective.

The interviews that I do are by far one my favorite things to do. I love talking to new people, listening to their stories and travels, and learning something new. You know the feeling you get when you walk away from a store, just having purchased something? With a delicious new gadget in hand, wrapped up in tissue paper and placed carefully into a shopping bag, ready for your eager consumption? The shopper’s high is the best metaphor I can find to describe what happens to me when I walk away from an interview. I’m happy. There are other forms of work that tire me out and leave me exhausted: listening to stories energizes me.

I write, because writing helps me to remember things. Writing lets me put down into a more permanent state the fleeting emotions and whims of each stage of my life. When I look back on my writing, I can dive back into the feeling of being twelve and awkward, fifteen with teenage angst, seventeen and leaving my family for a small college in Ohio, twenty-one and beginning graduate school in the biggest city I’d ever lived in, and twenty-four and headed home to California again. When I go back and look at my scribblings from my younger years, and the diaries of my middle-school, high-school, college, and even last year’s writing, I can see how I’ve changed, grown, and become different. Sometimes I don’t like to look back at my old writings: my memories of the harder times are tough to look at. At the same time, having the drafts, the memories, and the experiences are each lessons I can learn from, despite how embarrassing or hard it is to look back on things past (there even posts from last year I can’t believe I wrote!).

I write, because I want to be a better person. There’s nothing harder than looking at yourself squarely in the metaphysical mirror and really asking yourself what you want to be, who you are, and why you do what you do. I write to explore myself and to figure out what I want and who I am.

I write, because I love ideas. Writing helps me think. I love thinking about new ideas, about shifting our imaginations towards different ways of conceptualizing the way we work, why we do what we do, and the physical, tangible places and spaces we live in. (Oh that’s right: my day job, in architecture / urbanism / design). I love capturing a thought or an idea into an “ah-HA!” memo to myself, even if the memo becomes an impossible-to-read post-it note that sits unreadable next to my bed, because I was too tired to turn the light on in the middle of the night and the markings on said post-it end up being completely illegible.

I write because if I don’t, I can’t sleep at night. I often wake up in the middle of the night thinking of new ideas, stories, and things to share. My family is all-too-familiar with my 3AM emails and text messages (thank goodness for “silent” on cell phones).  I sometimes sit up for hours at night, reading by myself, mulling over new ideas.  If I don’t write it down, I’d be up all night, churning, wondering and thinking.

I write, because writing well is a great form of listening. If I’ve done my research and looked carefully and critically someone else’s work, the act of responding, through writing or listening, means that you’ve heard someone else’s ideas.  By meditating over the concepts and presentations of others, you can push yourself and others to develop new connections, possibilities and ideas. Much of the writing I do is not possible without the help and inspiration of others.

I write, because I have things to say and ideas to share. We are meant to be connected to each other, and writing, speaking, talking, laughing and drawing are some of the ways in which we share ideas. I love sharing my ideas and my thinking. And I hope that you, readers, find some use in what I say and why I do what I do.