Have you changed your narrative lately?

Posted on October 21, 2014 by Sarah K Peck

As I wander through cities, one of the things I look for is evidence of fresh construction. Cities are living, breathing, pulsating organisms, and a great indicator of change is the number of cranes you can see dotting the skyline. In San Francisco, new construction emerges when the lack of residential units becomes absurd; in my new neighborhood in Brooklyn, new housing developments are popping up on vacant lots every few months.

Everything is always changing, even if we aren’t looking for it.

You have trillions of cells in your body, one of my yoga teachers reminds me. And your cells live, grow, and die and replace themselves every seven years. Every seven years we become an entirely new collection of cells. And in our personal and professional lives, metamorphoses happen even quicker. Your narrative changes every two, three, four years. You were a college student—then you weren’t. You were responsible for only yourself—and then you became a parent.

Every seven years our physical bodies completely regenerate. How often do we renew our stories of self?

Your narrative is always changing.

It’s easy to cling to a story, even if it doesn’t serve us anymore. It’s harder to shed the layers of past selves and emerge into a new narrative. The transition can be awkward, abrupt, or bumpy.

As things move and shift, you’re learning, iterating, growing, changing. You’re new to twitter and then, months later … you’re not. No one is listening to your blog, and then, some time later, people are listening. You’re embedded in the flush of a new job, thrilled to be working on your project, and then, a few years later, you’re tired. Ready for the next project, story, or idea.

Don’t cling too hard to your old narratives. Instead, build new ones. Grow into future ones.

When you’re a new employee, the biggest thing you don’t know yet is that you’re only in the entry level category for a short time before new faces come along and you’ve got to hand your bag of tricks over to the new staff. That management you’re secretly griping about? That’s you, really soon. Trying your best to do better, and learning the reasons why it’s so tough to implement your ideals. At the end of my twenties, just a brush away from my thirties, I realized with somewhat of a start that I graduated from college 9 years ago –

What? NINE years ago?

People were asking me questions that I had answers to — and many that I didn’t. I knew a lot, and yet there was so much more I wanted to learn.

You are, until you aren’t.

You aren’t, and then you are.

In my work with storytellers, educators, corporate leaders, and innovators, one of the things we do is unearth their current narratives — and watch people rebuild. Michael Margolis reminds me that “as you tell your story, your story moves.” When we take pen to paper, when we sit with friends, when we convene and collect and talk about what we’re doing — our story changes.

The act of expressing your story helps set your past narratives free. The act of imagining your future narrative helps you grow and transition into your next iteration of who you are.

We grow through story, and we grow into our story. Your narrative is changing.

What stories can you retire?

Who are you becoming next?

Writing exercise: get out a sheet of paper and write down as many stories and scripts that you carry around with you. Your age, what you believe in, how you explain who you are and what you do. Are there any that can be changed? Anything new emerging? Write down stories of your next, wiser, growing self. Who are you becoming?

PS: For everyone who’s interested in working on their writing and storytelling, I’ve got a surprise coming out in the next few weeks — if you’re on my mailing list, I’ll send you a note when my big surprise goes live!

Why is moving so hard? The struggle to lighten up, give up, and let go.

Posted on July 26, 2014July 28, 2014 by Sarah K Peck

Moving out — moving on

“Have nothing in your homes that you do not know to be useful or believe to be beautiful.” — William Morris.

Everything changes.

I just emptied an apartment full of furniture, things, stories, and stuff. I carried couches, desks, and pieces of furniture up and down (and up and down) many flights of stairs across hilly San Francisco. I donated 600 books and gifted them to friends across the city.

Moving is so freeing and yet so hard.

And I wrapped up a life living in this beautiful home, this beautiful city, with so many good friends.

“We’re making space for new adventures,” my husband reminded me. “Don’t keep anything you don’t remember you had in the first place.”

But it’s so hard. The labor of moving everything. The memories.

Moving is exhausting. The energy of lifting, analyzing, purging, and letting go — it’s no small task. When I got overwhelmed recently in the pile of stuff that somehow accumulates around one’s home, I went online in a desperate plea to my minimalist friends — “Help!” I said, “How do I do this?”

Joshua wrote back a simple truth — and it made me laugh:

“You are not your dishtowel.” — Joshua Fields Millburn

Right. Right!

I am not my things.

I get to keep the stories, the memories, the transformation. My life is not a couch. My memories are not held inside of a sofa.

When I got back to New York this weekend, I decided to continue the cleansing: we piled up four more bags of books and clothes and cleaned out our home. More and more, I’m inspired by lightness, ease, minimalism, and letting go — letting go of past stories, details, habits, and junk.

Why do we each need to keep our own personal bookshelves? If I need a book in the future, I’ll borrow it or get a digital copy. I trust that the world will have this information, regardless of whether or not I house the words within my own tiny square-foot home. I do not need to own hundreds of books to continue to thirst for knowledge.

“There are two ways to be rich: One is by acquiring much, and the other is by desiring little.” — Jackie French Koller.

“Simplicity involves unburdening your life, and living more lightly with fewer distractions that interfere with a high quality life, as defined uniquely by each individual.” — Linda Breen Pierce

What is the weight of holding on to all these “things”?

Plus: what is the weight of carrying around a hundred books I haven’t read yet? The oppressive weight of “should” on my shelf must hold substantial weight in my mind, pinning me down to past wishes, thoughts, and dreams.

What if I free up that shelf space — mental, physical, karmic? Send those books to places they will be loved and cherished, rather than collecting dust in my own life? Root to rise, my yoga mantra. My roots come from my community, my connections, my spirit. My rise comes from weightlessness, expansiveness, ease. If I hold on to unread books, I hold on to unfinished committments. A bookcase full of shoulds and one-days and look at what you haven’t done staring down at me in my morning meditation.

“Any half-awake materialist well knows – that which you hold holds you.” — Tom Robbins.

The sadness of leaving + the freedom of space.

As I prepared to leave San Francisco, my home — my only permanent residence for most of my waking life — I kept tearing up about the friends and the people I would miss. Would giving up my home and apartment mean I could never come back? And then my friend Leah reminded me that I’ll always be back. The cool whispers of San Francisco’s foggy oceans will also be one of my homes.

“You’re family here. We’ll have space for you whenever you return. It’s not about the couch. Just come, whenever you want. It can be easy.”

And I remember that I get to keep all the stories, all the memories. I so grateful to this beautiful coastal city and to the rich community of people I have met over the years. I love it here.

And I love what’s next, even if I have no idea what it is.

Let go of what’s not serving you, even if it’s as innocuous as books. Make space for your future self.

To adventure, creative living, the sharing economy, and change.

And as Carol Pearson writes, to a new story, to a new narrative:

“Most of us are slaves of the stories we unconsciously tell ourselves about our lives. Freedom begins the moment we become conscious of the plot line we are living and, with this insight, recognize that we can step into another story altogether.” —Carol S. Pearson, The Hero Within

To an adventure. To freedom.

For more quotes on simplicity and minimalism, check out Joshua Becker’s list of inspiring quotes on minimalism — many of which I used as part of this essay.

The Writer’s Workshop is now open for our summer session! Join us for the next class—and kickstart your writing into high gear.

Posted on May 5, 2014May 5, 2014 by Sarah K Peck

It’s baaaaack! The Writer’s Workshop will open up again this summer for a brand-new six-week session beginning June 30th.

The Writer’s Workshop is a live course focused on improving your storytelling, writing, and narrative abilities through eight masterful lectures and exercises — together with a community of co-writers to share the journey. We interview experts across the industry in marketing, communications, blogging, and book creation — and send YOU on a journey to dig into your own inner creative.

This time around, there are a few changes and additions:

Now that almost 100 people have taken the course, we’ve gotten excellent feedback, tips to make the program even stronger, and rave reviews from students. Here’s what you get—and what’s changing:

In the upcoming summer session, I’m adjusting the course to become a six-week program.

Also, the Writer’s Workshop will be available at three access points—to make it both more affordable for more people. There is a self-paced budget option for people who want to do the course on their own; a live class where we get to meet each other and join forces with all the alumni in the program (my favorite part!), and a private, closed Writer’s Circle for just a small group of people to receive more personalized attention and coaching.

Both the Writer’s Workshop and Content Strategy will run again this summer, beginning June 30—check out the course pages for full details and how to register.

Who is this course for?

This course is perfect for people with aspiring creative writing dreams; professionals looking at improving their communication skills for a day job; bloggers who want to improve their craft; or people with an existing writing practice who want to meet other like-minded people.

“Improving your writing means you can improve your relationships, improve your work, and get more of what you want.”

We are all writers.

The idea that writing is a separate tool or skill from other skills is a myth that needs to be debunked. We should all be excellent communicators—because the more powerfully we can convey our ideas, the more we can achieve.

Improving your writing means you can improve your relationships (through better inter-personal communication), improve your work (by getting better at describing what you do), and get what you want (by better articulating what you want).

“Sarah combines her experience in athletics, writing, and design to teach in a relatable way that inspires growth. This course not only evolves the way you think and create, but helps you hone your sales and persuasion skills. So, you come away with a fresh set of tools and the know-how to apply them to your business, career, or creative projects. Two words: do it.” — Matt Hunckler

“Her content is always thought-provoking and will force you to confront the challenge of executing your best ideas. She studies where great ideas come from and helps individuals and businesses do great work.” — Cycle 1 participant.

What will you need?

You’ll need an inquisitive mind and a curiosity about how to improve your writing ability. The course works best if you bring an open-mind and a gentle countenance—behind the doors we like to create a warm, respectful atmosphere for collaboration and creation. You’ll need about three hours per week for coursework, an hour to watch videos, and anywhere from three to five hours to work on your writing projects. In the past, students have set up time in the evenings and on the weekends to do the course—it’s best to plan ahead and carve out a few hours for your work to get the most out of the class.

Limited pre-enrollment closes May 25th:

Class begins on June 30th — and early-bird enrollment closes May 25th. Early bird registrations get a $100 discount off of either the registration for the live class or the self-guided class.

Can’t wait to see the new class!

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

Posted on October 22, 2013October 22, 2013 by Sarah K Peck

New York Building Fronts

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.

Posted on October 17, 2013October 17, 2013 by Sarah K Peck

Building Walls in Brooklyn

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?

###

[ 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. ]

###

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.

What would you bring with you into the woods? Reflection questions on your own fire, the art of creation, the necessity of destruction, and your intrinsic value.

Posted on October 14, 2013October 11, 2013 by Sarah K Peck

Central Park - Autumn - New York City

Central Park by Vivienne Gucwa on NY Through The Lens.

Reflection, rejuvenation, and three questions.

This weekend, I left the city to join one hundred other entrepreneurs, creatives, and innovators to shake off some digital dust and retreat in the Poconos Mountains of Eastern Pennsylvania.

In addition to the typical packing instructions — sleeping bag, flashlight, yoga clothes, comfy fleece, warm sweaters, s’mores — we were also instructed to bring the following three things with us into the woods:

Something you’d like to burn (something you’d like to leave behind);
Something to improve somebody else’s experience;
Something that symbolizes who you are and what you’re passionate about.

Something to burn.

What can you burn, destroy, or get rid of? We all carry things with us–in our hearts, minds, ideas, thoughts, notes, and the physical stuff we carry. My fellow writers are ablaze with instructions towards destruction: it seems to be a theme in many minds. Goddess Kali encourages us to set ablaze what’s holding us back, writes Danielle LaPorte, encouraging us to welcome destruction as part of the act of creation. The theme is beautifully captured in Joseph Campbell’s work on The Hero’s Journey:

Joseph Campbell, on breaking, destruction, and letting go:

The old skin has to be shed before the new one can come.

If we fix on the old, we get stuck. when we hang onto any form, we are in danger of putrefaction. Hell is life drying up. The Hoarder, the one in us that wants to keep, to hold on, must be killed. If we are hanging onto the form now, we’re not going to have the form next.

You can’t make an omelet without breaking eggs.

Destruction before creation.

Out of perfection nothing can be made. Every process involves breaking something up. The earth must be broken to bring forth new life. If the seed does not die, there is no plant.

Bread results from the death of wheat. Life lives on lives. Our own life lives on the acts of other people.If you are lifeworthy, you can take it. What we are really living for is the experience of life, both the pain and the pleasure.

The world is a match for us. We are a match for the world. Opportunities to find deeper powers within ourselves come when life seems most challenging. Negativism to the pain and ferocity of life is negativism to life.

What will I bring? I’ve got a few ideas, but the first that leapt to mind was the “busy” badge I often wear. Busy isn’t good, and not managing my time well isn’t a mode of operation. I want to burn the busy badge, and make time for long lunches, for ample yoga, for walking. The work can take the space and time and shape it takes, and there will be an ebb and flow to it–but busy is not a means to an end.

What about you? What can you destroy, leave behind, or eliminate as we head into Fall and the season of darkness, replenishment, and restoration?

Something to improve someone’s experience.

What do you bring? What do you have to offer? What are the gifts that you bring to share with the world?

I’m packing my yoga mat and my massage hands to help heal and restore. The power of movement, stillness, awakening and connection through our physical bodies is healing.

Something that symbolizes who you are.

How would you characterize who you are? What objects, ideas, or processes encapsulate who you are–or who you’re working to be?

This one’s trickier. I have several ideas, but I’m still mulling it over.

What would you bring if you were headed to the woods and had to bring these three things?

Leave a note in the comments with your answers.

Signing off the internet for a short bit,

sarah signature

Jumping is terrifying. Or, behind the scenes of the last few months: Life. Mind Work. Change. Here. Now. Hello. Breathe…

Posted on August 28, 2013September 2, 2013 by Sarah K Peck

Panic-Now-700

I wake up in a panic, nerves sending a fear signal up and down my trembling arms. Adrenaline pours into my veins, shooting up my skin like a shock to my system. My brain races, full of questions and doubts and fears. I can’t sleep again, even though it’s dark. The light from the streetlamp outside my window glares at me, accusingly. I get up, I start pacing.

I wonder if what I’ve done is the right thing. If what I’m doing is the right thing. I feel like I’m jumping out of an airplane, a rug pulled out beneath my feet to reveal that I’m far too high up in the sky and gravity’s tugging on me. I don’t know if I have a parachute. I’m not sure what a parachute would even look like. I’ll need to figure it out later, but probably fairly soon.

Sometimes I’m soaring with the incredible high of experimentation, and other times my mind wonders if it knows just exactly what I’ve gotten myself into. I cling to my practices of yoga, journaling and other meditative daily walks, but they don’t fully temper the fact that I don’t know what I’m doing. My mind is a scramble. I can’t understand the illogical things I’ve put it through. It’s probably for the best that I don’t understand.

Trust.

There’s no easy way to jump other than to put both feet out and trust the world around you. Trust that you’ll land, that you might fly, that it’s okay to fall, or that some other iteration you can’t predict will come to fruition. Unlike the time I went zip-lining with my sister, where my jump off the platform was so timid that I smacked my butt against the wooden platform below as I launched, I need to lean, and lean so hard that it feels like falling.

I’m falling. This is falling.

While it’s been quiet around these parts lately, that’s just an illusion–a set of unwritten essays and the silence that is days passing a surface skin for a mind and a life that’s been in flux for much of this summer and this year. I look back at my writings for August, noticing that I’ve only scrawled two posts this month; those posts are just a scant glimpse into life behind the scenes and what I’ve been up to. For those familiar with astrology, the world’s been ablaze with the recent Grand Trine, the idea of a shift so large and a planetary arrangement so powerful that people will feel huge changes, up-endings, and fluxes in their life; that dreams become reality; that things get messy; that things resolve — and I don’t just read this, I feel this, I know this, I am living this.

Hello, world. Shall we dance?

Sometimes I struggle with what to write about on this blog—is it a diary? Is it a travel trope of my own adventures? Is it strictly related to writing and communications? It’s not always clear; I share my personal stories and lessons as a window into how I’ve practiced (and continue to practice) the philosophies and principals that underline most of my work, scratching out and re-writing as I go, editing as I learn. I don’t profess to write about myself because that’s the topic at hand; I do love telling the stories I live as a means for sharing bigger ideas and stories. But when I leave myself out of all of the writing and start to write just about rules or teachings or hollow lists, it starts to feel a bit empty.

Like I’ve forgotten to tell you something. Like I’ve left part of myself out.

The past six months have been a whirlwind, to the point that it feels as though I’ve been hiding something. The past year has been a challenge, and I’m not always comfortable talking about all of it. Some of the hands-down-best-things in my life have happened in recent months, but so have some of the scariest and hardest. It wasn’t shiny and glorious; much of it came in a package that felt like I was being thrown repeatedly against a wall like a rag doll and left in a crumpled heap to stand up and fight a bit more. The great moments came with adrenal fatigue, medical problems, extensive biopsies and visits to the doctor. Moments at conferences after months at home, working all day and late nights, and having to look at someone else and not quite share. Not quite tell. These months and moments have been filled with Doubt. Insecurity. Changes. Lives beginning. Lives ending. Leaving my job, starting a new one. Selling my car (finally). Meeting incredible people. Shifting careers, changing tack.

You, too, are probably noticing something in your own life and in the lives of others around you. As I talk with friends and clients and colleagues, I notice that these big shifts aren’t happening in isolation. We’re all experiencing it, the universe seemingly sending the earth into the spin cycle a few extra times, the players and movers jolted into new realities of their own doing–or as a surprise. The economy has been moving and un-sticking; opportunities are opening while entire industry verticals are left career wastelands; some generations are in huge loss while other people are starting to move around much more in jobs and vocations and practices.

I hear stories of daring and adventure, of incredible romance, of deep pain and loss, of glimmers of beauty within the deepest tragedies. Sometimes the suddenness with which you realize a dream can be incredibly unnerving, pressing you forward into a new sense of self, a new definition, a new story before you felt like you committed to the wanting of your dream. And yet the universe sends you out the door and through three new ones, pressing you to discover your readiness through action, not thinking. And other times it seems unfairly agonizing to wait, years of debt and doubt and pain layered into the pursuit of freedom, a tantalizing notion that seems just out of grasp. Change is rattling. Waiting is painful. I’ve watched people get all that they’ve said they wanted, and fall apart. I’ve watched people try for everything they’ve dreamed of and crumble, stall, wander into places they’d never wish to be. They’re surviving. The universe is doing something.

Change is not easy.

… I’m not sure there are many people who say that it is.

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Welcome to solo-preneurship*, to adventure, to freedom, to creation.

In my world, a big shift happened a few weeks ago. At the end of July, I parted ways with my wonderful and dear company, SWA Group, the place that has been my home for the last five years. Along the way, we created a number of digital and print communications initiatives — sharing the perspective of landscape architecture and describing how the built world works through books, magazines, blogs, and stories. My colleagues are some of the most talented physical and spatial designers I’ve ever met, and they challenged me constantly to learn how to create physical, built spaces within the tricky world of patterns, codes, rules and regulations–learning how to engineer and design places for human enjoyment. Understanding urban patterns and landscape systems is immensely appealing to me, and something I’ve focused on for a long time.

And yet, I leapt.

It’s exciting–and terrifying.

Transitioning from a wonderful job and a space with colleagues who have been extremely supportive of my adventures and experiments was not an easy choice, and it took several weeks and months to iron out the details and to wrap up my final projects and head out. Out into the world of clients and projects and writing and self-employment. Also the asterisk in the title is a note of caution–I’m not headed straight into “solo-preneurship,” because it’s never truly “solo”-preneurship, like Tara Gentile so aptly reminds us. “Business doesn’t happen in a bubble,” she writes; rather, it happens with teams and clients and support and evolution. And markets. And needs. Further, solo-preneurship is not about late nights hustling indefinitely; while hustling is a part of the journey, it doesn’t need to become the entire journey.

And then, I was here.

Shoved out the door and onto the sidewalk, suitcase in hand. I’m taking all the knowledge and chops I’ve got and doing the best I can.

Starting yesterday.

When did this happen?

“To be fully alive, fully human, and completely awake is to be continually thrown out of the nest.”– Pema Chödrön

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But Sarah, what are you working on? How will you spend your time?

I’ve been avoiding conversations that pull up that dreaded question, that accusatory, “so, what are you doing?” statement, the question that permeates what seems to be nearly every conversation. The rush to fill time—or worse, to apply a story or a definition to how we will spend time—is a national disease we all have, one that requires us to chase productivity and results over holistic being and space for mental clarity. It’s no wonder Time Magazine features a different cover for Americans than the rest of the world when we’re a market more obsessed with our own job performance (and resultant anxiety) than the civil unrest happening in the Middle East. Prayers to Egypt, Syria, Palestine, Israel, and all of the countries in need of deep healing. Including our own.

“The rush to fill time—or worse, to apply a story or a definition to how we will spend time—is a national disease we all have, one that requires us to chase productivity and results over holistic being and space for mental clarity.”

We ask each other what we do before we ask how we’re doing, a quick question that rolls off the tongue faster than you can truly hug someone and look into their eyes, wondering how they actually are. When you’re in transition (and transition is not a temporary state but perhaps an always-state, as Pema Chödrön has gently reminded me in her book, When Things Fall Apart), it’s much harder to answer that question definitively. I have an answer that sounds good, I have an answer that’s short and sweet, I have the answer that helps my parents worry less about my finances (So… how are you supporting yourself?), and I have a few ways to broach the conversation with friends.

The short answer is that I’m writing. And teaching. And learning. And living. The shift, if you put a definition on it, is that I’m no longer working full time with a single employer; I’m working in freelance mode with several clients and project across the country and around the world. Part journalist, part documentarian, part strategist and mostly writer, I’m building a new set of tools and skills and building a new business plan for myself. It’s liberating. It’s thrilling. It brings up every uncertainty I’ve ever had and puts them flat on the kitchen table and stares me square in the face.

It’s full-on accountability.

“Our battered suitcases were piled on the sidewalk again; we had longer ways to go. But no matter, the road is life.” – Jack Kerouac

One of my first projects was a press campaign for a Y-Combinator company in San Francisco dedicated to helping aging seniors live gracefully. I joined Y-Combinator team True Link Financial, a tech start-up tackling the challenge of fraud target aging seniors. Seniors are increasingly vulnerable to misleading marketing and scams; the company’s cofounders Kai Stinchcombe and Claire McDonnell developed a new credit card with a customizable fraud-blocker that helps prevent your parents’ and grandparents’ money from being irreversibly stolen in the time in their life when they need it most.

Aging is an issue that’s fascinated me throughout my studies of cities and people, and with my grandparents aging and later leaving us, I wonder who will take care of them if we all don’t step in and take care of them. A society with no age diversity should alarm you: we need older people to be thriving within our ecosystems, visibly, or we should be concerned for our own future health. It won’t be long until we’re all old (hopefully–that’s the goal, right?). I wonder who will take care of me when I’m 70, 80, or 90.

“The way you do anything is the way you do everything.”

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My second assignment as an independent journalist this summer was joining 1for3.org as a documentarian and writer on a recent trip to Aida Camp, a Palestinian Refugee Camp in Bethlehem. I joined an exceptionally talented team of designers and human rights activists dedicated to making change in a part of the world that needs a lot of love. We traveled to Israel over the summer and spent time in several of the world’s oldest cities, and then focused on the problem of inadequate water access within a camp that serves 6,000 residents. A design and landscape-based challenge, the team built a variety of options to capture stormwater and rainwater, cleanse it, and re-distribute it as potable or recycled water for irrigation and play. While the history of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict is long and complex (see this history of the conflict in maps), the challenge of capturing rainwater on a single site is something that can be implemented in real time. As a documentarian, I wrote 2,500 to 3,000 words per day, and we’re working on pieces for publication this Fall. Nothing in this paragraph suffices to capture what the trip was–I’m struggling for words. It was. I will write more.

And lastly, this Fall I’ll also be teaching again in the Writer’s Workshop, a private group for people who want to build a practice and a community around writing. Writing unlocks our minds and helps us clarify who we are, how we think, and how we connect with others. Last Spring, I opened up the first writing workshop to a group of twenty-five people from around the world and was blown away by the talent, enthusiasm, and dedication of each of the people in the class. I’ve updated and modified the program to make it into a four-week program that focuses on storytelling, imagination, creativity and persuasion–helping writers and aspiring writers of all fields learn how to add more detail, color, and story to their blog posts, essays, and other daily communications.

Writing well is critical to great living. It’s one of my core beliefs, as I dig into understanding the whys behind what I do: writing helps us clarify who we are, what we believe, and serves as an introspective tool for a journey into your own mind. Good writing also helps us get better at explaining ourselves, our ideas, our projects, our thought processes, and our deepest wants and desires. If you want to get better at any job, relationship, or project–get better at writing. Improving your writing makes nearly everything better. If you’ve been to one of my courses or live events before, come join us. ‘ll be sharing more information on the writing class over the next few weeks, and posting details here: http://dev.sarahkpeck.com/writers-workshop/.

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And in addition to leaving my Day job, I’ve left San Francisco for a while.

The distance a country puts between your old life and a new, unprepared, different life–a life now navigated within the corridors of unfamiliar yet strangely reassuring streets–makes me see my old self with more contrast, more clarity. Distance gives perspective. Change shows your edges. Challenges reveal where we have more work to do.

I left San Francisco, heading to Brooklyn, New York for the Fall to build my own writing, teaching, and consulting practice. My client roster was overwhelming my ability to stay sane and get sleep while working full time, and so–I jumped. I leaned, and I leaned hard, arms spinning, free-falling in the the glorious disruption that is change. After long conversations with close friends, my own coaches, and my mentors both at my company and in my life, I wrapped up my time with my employer and I’m in a bit of a free space right now. It’s wonderful, it’s open, it’s strange, it’s new–and it’s now. It’s here. I’m in it.

It’s less of a jolt and disruption, in some ways, because I believe that the old employer–employee relationship is antiquated, and the job that’s perfect for you three years ago is not the same job (and nor are you the same person) today. Everything shifts and is in flux, and the jobs (employers, clients, projects) that stick around longest are ones that match you and your evolving human talents and needs the best. This shift, then, at least for me, is one towards more project-based work; a move that I believe is more in alignment with how corporate and employment relationships should work.

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But the truth is, I’m avoiding the heart matter, the real reason I’m changing tracks, the deeper stories woven into this framework of self-employment and time management. It’s easier to talk about jobs and locations and moving, because those are things I can point to. These are the things that feel safer to talk about, for some reason. Yet one of the beautiful, albeit less publicly prominent, stories in my life has has been simply and glossily covered over with the use of words like “life opportunities,” and “strategic choices” and “changes,” and “new directions.” These words mask the beauty of a burgeoning and deepening and marvelous love story I can’t even fully grasp that I’m a part of (me? this is me? how is this happening!?) — and my heart is cracking open with this new adventure. My partner. In life. I can’t wait to write about it, too, whenever the time is right.

In short, I’m stunned by how much my life has changed over the last few years. I bow in deep prayer to the universe and to spirits and to energy flows with thanks and gratitude for the gifts in my life.

We can’t wait until later to work on developing beautiful relationships, to starting new adventures, to leaning, to jumping. It’s always time to practice and to push. It’s an adventure, and you’ve only got a few opportunities to live it.

Breathe.

But let’s dig a little deeper. Even beneath the shift in my relationships and the work that I’m doing is even deeper heart work. Life work. Body work. The thing is, I’m doing some mind work. I’ve been running at full steam for nearly a decade, and in a grasp towards more consciousness and deliberate creation, I’ve slowed down the project roll and I’m consciously practicing choices that make space in my life for essential philosophies and practices I want to devote more time to. I’m continuing to practice saying no to opportunities that don’t quite fit right; no to clients that aren’t a fabulous fit; and no to things that make me tired, cranky, and uncomfortable–like sitting still all day.

And as this moves forward, I’m creating space–ample space–for projects I’ve long put on the back burner.

My critics–largely internal–tell me this is silly, self indulgent, a waste of time. They sit on my shoulders and grumble, moaning about the work I’d better be doing, about the nonsensical things my brain tries to write, cackling in the backdrop. Occasionally I meet a real critic–someone who voices what I’ve been spinning up in my head–and the conversation usually ends with a decent explanation of why I’m doing what I’m doing, surprising even myself.

It can be easy.

It can be now.

My new apartment has a blank wall on it, in a room we’ve devoted to art and creation and the expansive, contemplative work my partner and I are devoted too, and even though we’re not moving in for another week or so, I’ve already scribbled across multiple sheets of paper with ideas, brainstorms, and plans. I’m pinning them up in the invisible wall in my mind. The marked shift is not one of dreaming that I put movement and writing first in my life, but a life in which I actually do it, and continue to align my life according to my values and principles.

Mind work, body work, spirit work.

We are more than the work we create and the products we produce. We are more than the money we earn and the statuses we post. We are humans, to the core, with moving, living, breathing bodies. We are connected, in communities and networks and relationships, and all of the pieces and parts need to be nurtured and allowed; cultivated and fed.

The next few months–nay, longer, please–are about mind work; about spirit work; about body work. We create a career and chase financial gains for consumer-based tendencies; in an effort to challenge these assumptions, the next few months of my life are deliberately about experimentation. I want to push myself (or yield, or soften) into experiments with mind and body. With doing more movement, and less computer work. With changing routines to learn what suits me best. With spirituality first and mental work first. With practices that develop the mind, body and soul. I’ve opened up space in this new life, this new day, for more writing and more movement. More teaching and more learning. More being.

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This means its messy, it’s different. There are a lot of late nights (or early nights) with tears. I’m not good at this; I’m not good at being composed and balanced at all times. I don’t expect myself to be, either. I get really stressed out and I want to throw things against walls and I make hyperactive sets of lists and then I feel like a complete failure when I’ve only done one or two things on my list. I put the list down. I listen to waves of anxiety roll across my body, and I practice trying to observe it—not critique it. I spend months in places that don’t feel right and only when it really really doesn’t feel good to I finally leave; and I learn that next time, I’ll listen to my intuition a little more closely. I shift, I dance, I fall.

Finding calm in the midst of chaos is not easy. Today is a day just like any other, and there is no arrival. Pema Chödrön’s “When Things Fall Apart,” has been a close reminder that the idea of chasing a completeness or an arrival–that feeling of having arrived is a false premise. We are not arriving, we are always arriving. We are always moving. Life is more often a state of chaos than calm; the fleeting satisfaction of completion erodes, too, as time passes and we seek more challenges, learning, opportunities.

The entire process—this ongoing, transitory adventure, this journey—provides fodder for stories and writing and ongoing exploration and journey. The more I grow and learn, the less I feel as though I have any answers at all. I document to track my brain’s inner workings, to train my mind, to place markers in the ground, to discover myself. I write because it’s such a gift to my soul and a beautiful way to connect with others. I teach writing because I hope to share the journey and discovery with like-minded individuals; I learn as much from the talented people I work with as I hope to share.

Thank you for joining me on this journey, and for listening. I’ve created beautiful friendships from this blog and I am grateful to be able to share with each of you.

To living life, to mind work, to creating space.

XOXO

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Tell me what you’ve been working on: I’d love to hear about it in the comments. How has your life shifted and changed over the past year? What’s become clear to you, and what are you working to prioritize? How do you deal with change and transition?

Spring 2013 Writer’s Workshop | FAQ

Posted on April 20, 2013April 21, 2013 by Sarah K Peck

There has been such an incredible response to the writing course! Here are some of the main questions so far and feel free to reach out on twitter if you have any other questions. If you’re thinking of joining the course, registration ends this week.

I love the idea of a Writing Course! But who is it for? How do I know if it’s the right fit for me?

This course is designed for people who want to get better at writing but aren’t ready to commit to a full-time program at a University, or want to increase their writing habits by doing a 3-week course. If you’re a professional, creative, or have a personal writing hobby and want to step up your game, this course will help you improve your writing and teach you fundamental skills and lessons in storytelling and narrative.

How does it work? What does the class consist of?

The class is broken down into three weekly themes:

Week One looks at Visualization and Imagination — we’ll talk about crafting our ideas, shaping them, using different methods for imagination, and exploring each of our writing dreams.
Week Two is on Storytelling, where we get to dive into specific frameworks and structures for creating stories, and practice writing many of our own.
Lastly, Week Three focuses on Persuasion and using writing to get more clarity in what we want and communicating with others.

Every weekday during the course, there’s a core lesson followed by a writing prompt for you to start your creative writing. The core lesson is a teaching example or a short story to get you thinking and learning about new ways to consider your writing and narrative–on average, it’s about 1-2 pages of reading with examples and links to further resources for you to dig into. At the end of the lesson, there’s a prompt for your daily creative writing exercise–a series of thoughts for you to respond to.

The prompts will get you into the habit of writing each day and putting words onto paper.

It sounds like a lot of content. I work during the day – how will I get it all done?

It is a lot of content! I cover a lot quickly, but I don’t want you to get overwhelmed. In the beginning we’ll work on framing your personal writing goals, and you can pick how many days you’d like to practice. For some people, just writing 3 days a week is an ideal goal, so they can save the Tuesday and Thursday lessons for later. Each lesson is designed as a complete package, and the more lessons you do, the more you’ll learn.

Do I get to keep the course materials?

Yes! Each day you’ll get a PDF of the course lesson for you to keep. At the end of the course I’ll send you the complete digital document (it’s nearly a book!) for you to keep as well.

What if I while I’m taking the course I come up with a great idea and I want to take my writing in this new direction — what should I do?

The biggest goal of this class is to help you get started with your writing craft and to unlock your creative vision. If you get a great idea, run with it! The people I work with all have lots and lots of creative ideas–but haven’t found a consistent way to get their ideas on paper, and tend to feel “stuck” in some way or another. To that end, I encourage everyone to follow your instinct and intuition. You can save the lessons for future prompts and days when you’re looking for a way to start. The most important thing is that you take the time to write and explore your ideas. Everyone has a story to tell–scratch that, everyone has lots of stories to tell, and this course is about exploring your narratives and stories and putting your ideas into words.

How big is the class?

The target size is a group of 20-30 people so you can find and meet great peers and start to connect with your classmates, but we’re still an intimate group so that I can interact with each of you. Depending on how many people sign up, we may be a bit smaller for this pilot group. Registration closes on Friday, April 26th.

What’s your teaching style? Do you have a teaching philosophy?

Absolutely. I work under several premises that create the foundation for the work I do with my clients, on this blog, and in my life.

Get Started. I believe that one of the most difficult things for each of us is the “getting started” part of any habit. We spend so much time locked in our heads and minds and not enough time actually doing the things that need to get done. By setting up a three-week course with daily prompts, the goal of this course is to get you started on a writing habit, and build up a positive association with opening your writing document and letting your heart out on the paper.
You Need A Team. If we could each simply “motivate” or “do” everything we wanted to, life would be great–but it doesn’t work like that. We need community, coaches, friends, mentors, teachers, and a whole crew of people to help us walk (or run!) towards our dreams. This class is designed to help you unlock your creativity by adding structure, mentorship, teaching and accountability to your wonderful burgeoning creative talents.
Positivity. The next premise is one of positivity. I believe we need to be very kind to ourselves about our progress. In my experience, a lot of folks engage in a dialogue about why they’re not accomplishing or achieving what they meant to do yet. I like to re-frame this, and instead talk about all the good things you’re capable of doing, and be positive about whatever level you can achieve. Signing up for the course and taking the steps towards being a more prolific writer is huge! Congratulations to you on that! And once you’re in the course, –the course can be taken at different paces, so that if you want to write only 2 or 3 times a week, that’s just fine. Everyone’s definition of success is different, and the most important thing is creating space and time and a community for writers to connect and create.
Intuition. I believe in honing your relationship with your intuition–your instinct, your gut. If you’ve spent years in academic or work environments with a particular rigor or structure, it’s highly likely that you’ve lost touch with your base creative intuition. The good news is that each of us can build and strengthen our relationship with our instincts by getting out our tools and “exercising” our intuitive muscles daily.

Are you giving feedback to everyone on their essays?

While I won’t be reading everyone’s essays every day — that’s far too much for me to take on (30 essays every day for 15 days is a LOT of essays), but I will be reading at least one essay by each person and giving thoughtful suggestions and feedback and answering your questions each evening in our online community. We will use the Facebook group as a place to have conversations and talk about common threads, themes, and questions. I’ll be online a couple of times per day (usually in the evenings) to go through and answer each of your questions and add thoughts and resources for your consideration.

Is this a technical class?

This is not a technical class. I’m less concerned with a typo or proper sentence construction, and much more excited about getting your ideas out onto paper, quickly. You can always polish something later (and I recommend Strunk & White’s Elements of Style if you’re interested in this). This course is focused on dreaming, scheming, imagination, and building your writing practice and craft.

I can’t make this session–I’m so bummed! Will you be offering this course again?

Yes. I’ll be offering a similar course either this Summer or Fall.

I don’t have a Facebook account. Will that affect my ability to take the class?

One of the ways we will interact with each other is a small, closed Facebook group that lets us meet and discuss on a forum page. I’ve looked through several alternatives and this is the best one to date. If you don’t have an account, you can still do the prompts and learn from each daily lesson and get a great class out of it. You might also consider creating a temporary account for the duration of the course if you’d like to be a part of the community conversations.

Are there any surprises?

Of course there are surprises! :) I have a couple of additional tricks up my sleeve that I’m working on and can’t wait to share with you. Sign up and you’ll see!

Where do I register?

Class Description: Start Writing | Digital Writer’s Workshop
Course Cost: $300.
Direct Registration Link

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

Posted on April 15, 2013July 10, 2013 by Sarah K Peck

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.

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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.

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!

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With (writing) love,

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The Importance of Story

Posted on April 26, 2012December 31, 2012 by Sarah K Peck

There are thousands of bad presentations. What makes a good presentation?

Nancy Duarte looks at the importance of stories and narratives in our collective history, and how the use of storytelling can captivate audiences.

In it’s most simple structure, a story contains a likable hero, who encounters a roadblock, and overcomes the adversity to achieve a goal.

This is one of my favorite presentations and part of my recent research into storytelling, designing presentations, communication, and public speaking.