Lately, I’ve added meditation back into my writing routine.
Wait. Before you click to the next thing, hear me out. Meditation doesn’t have to be strange or alternative or hippie. It’s just a tool, a way to discipline your mind.
Writing fiction is a mysterious process. We all know this. We might not be comfortable with it, but we know it.
I mean, really…where do ideas come from? People ask me this all the time. Why did I decide to write a book about England, about a woman who has to unravel her mother’s secrets, about the connection between a British family and and Indian family?
Readers want to hear that you have a plan, so I’ll come up with some explanation. My partner is British, and there’s this strange family secret I’ll never unravel, and I like the BBC shows about old manor houses and castles being saved.
But where did these particular people come from? Why that secret? Why did the grandmother show up in this way, not that way?
I dunno.
I’m currently writing about two sisters who have heaps of secrets between them. Part of the story is set in New Zealand, and it’s no secret that I love the place. Part of it is set in a restaurant modeled very loosely on Nepenthe, a restaurant on the northern California coast that I only know about because my friend, writer Elizabeth Grayson, thought I would enjoy a book she found about the place, and I did.
But here’s the thing: a dozen things a day go into that pot I keep on the back burner of my mind. Thousands by the end of a year. All the things I watch and read and every Internet rabbit hole journey and the look of a fabric in a window and a lovely dish I eat with a friend, and the bubbles of water on roses on a summer morning.
What makes a group of things come together and insist that they’ll make a book?
I have no idea. I only know that my entire job is to be open to allowing those stories to flood in. It’s my job to keep I’m filling the pot on the stove constantly, every day, all the time, in many of the ways I’ve talked about here. Keeping a journal or a writer’s notebook is a good way of capturing things that will build stories. Reading and watching movies and television. Getting outside to walk.
And lately, I’ve added meditation back into my writing routine.
Let me be frank. I don’t always love it. I like to get up and get moving and accomplish a bunch of stuff before noon, when my energy will start to drop. Since I have those puppies to make me walk, I have to do that first thing or they’ll nag me incessantly. (This is a really good reason to have a dog.)
When I get back, I just want to open up my files and get going on those words. Usually, walking shakes loose a lot of ideas and I can see where I’m going. I’m raring to go.
Taking time to meditate feels…redundant.
And yet.
Meditation works. Taking even just five minutes to engage the portion of the brain that meditation ignites means I will do twice as much work in half the time with virtually none of the struggle.
Yes. That’s a lot. A big claim. Also true.
My schedule this year has been completely insane. Life has insisted on roaring right into all my plans for a measured, thoughtful year—and a lot of it is great stuff. A lot of it is ordinary. One thing was looming: a book deadline.
Because I’ve measured it for so long, I know how long it takes me to write a book. Some take a little longer, some take a little less, but I know how many hours it takes me to produce a finished page.
That number of hours was a bit reduced. I can’t hurry. That doesn’t work for me. What I need is to be reliably and artistically productive, day in, day out.
Obviously, that requires keeping the well full, which I have talked about here many times. It means keeping my body healthy—getting enough sleep and exercise and avoiding the crash-inducing urge to graze on Jelly Bellies. It means keeping my obligations to a minimum.
Writing all day to meet my page goals is not what I want to do. It’s exhausting, for one thing. I have about five good creative hours, and beyond that, I’m lugging boulders from the quarry to the page. It’s possible, but it’s an awful way to work.
Thus, meditation.
Let me say it again: five minutes of mediation will allow me do twice as much work in half the time with virtually none of the struggle. Fifteen minutes is the best length, honestly, but that anxiety starts nagging me and I set the timer for 5 or 7.
And it still works.
Why?
No idea, any more than I know where books come from. In some society in the future, they’ll have mapped all of this and know where the magic of creative thinking originates and how to fuel it, but now we don’t know. Just as we don’t know, really, why meditation is such an effective tool for productivity. Maybe it opens doors that blew closed overnight. Maybe it jolts awake the connection centers. Maybe it opens the communication between self and Spirit, or brain and Great Mind or whatever words you want to use.
Again, I don’t know. I only know that it works.
If you want to give it a try, I love Fragrant Heart. A New Zealand woman has made available dozens of guided meditations for free. You can also try an app like Head Space or Calm. (For a list of apps for you phone, go here.)
It can’t hurt. It will only take five minutes. Nothing lost if it doesn’t work.
But what if it does?
Have you used meditation as a tool in your life? Do you resist it? Love it? Let’s talk.
*Photo by Rosie Kerr on Unsplash
About Barbara O'Neal
Barbara O'Neal has written a number of highly acclaimed novels, including 2012 RITA winner, How To Bake A Perfect Life, which landed her in the RWA Hall of Fame and was a Target Club Pick. She is a highly respected teacher who also publishes material for writers at Patreon.com/barbaraoneal. She is at work on her next novel to be published by Lake Union in July. A complete backlist is available here.
Rose Kent says
August 22, 2018 at 7:16 amBarbara,
I appreciate this timely post, as I have been holding myself to a meditation practice for these past thirty days in hope it will stick permanently. I can’t explain why it’s helpful either, but I believe it is. I can also say it is darn hard. Thirty seconds in my mind is racing with the most mundane of thoughts. But I am learning to accept this monkey brain as wiser minds call it, let the thoughts bubble up and then slip away. Thanks for sharing and let us meditate and write on…
Barbara O'Neal says
August 22, 2018 at 12:02 pmKeep it up! Good job on the thirty days. My tai chi teacher says we need 100 days to make a habit stick. :)
Vijaya says
August 22, 2018 at 8:50 amBarbara, I discovered the liturgy of the hours a couple of years ago, so in the Western monastic tradition, my silence is actually a song, my meditation Word-y.
I enjoy my daily walks with my dog, and it too, is a time of prayer. I can’t remember which saint said this (maybe Teresa de Avila?) but when you think you have no time to pray, is precisely when you need to stop what you’re doing and lift your heart and mind to God. So I catch myself when I’m feeling anxious about all the things that have to be done, and go for a walk or to Mass at the Catholic school nearby. Ah, pax et bonum!
Barbara O'Neal says
August 22, 2018 at 12:02 pmVery wise, Vijaya. When we have no time, that’s when we most need it. Yes.
Lakota Lynn Grace says
August 22, 2018 at 10:04 amI’d not made the connection before, but yes, I think it is there.
Meditation builds discipline, because you strive to make it through the time allotted, even though your “monkey mind” has a thousand distractions tempting you to end early.
Writing, the same way. I meditate, and I’m fairly disciplined in my writing. Four mysteries written thus far and a fifth coming this fall.
Good post!
Rita Bailey says
August 22, 2018 at 10:18 amThanks for having the courage to write about something that many people will dismiss as too “woo-woo’ to be part of a daily writing discipline. Several writers I admire admit to using meditation to improve their craft. In my experience it helps me think more clearly, set priorities and be open to inspiration.
Your post has inspired me to get back to a daily meditation practise.
Barbara O'Neal says
August 22, 2018 at 12:04 pmI am on again, off again, but the more I practice, the better off I am…in many areas of my life. Clarity, purpose, stillness, mindfulness. Yeah, maybe those are woo-woo ideas, but they’re imminently practical, too.
I’m glad you’re inspired to get back to daily practice!
Lorraine Norwood says
August 22, 2018 at 10:37 amBarbara, thank you for the lovely post and the peek inside your creative mind. I’m wondering if meditation is like guided relaxation (which I’ve done in yoga) or is it a complete clearing of thought (which would be difficult to do)? I have never tried meditation for writing purposes, but find it easy to zone out with music, particularly the Baroque period or Bach when I’m writing. In fact, zoning out in real life is a problem since I’m always living with my characters 600 years in the past in another country!! Hence the speeding ticket which I have to pay today!
Here is a really good link to zoning-inducing music:
https://www.yourclassical.org/listen/relax
Barbara O'Neal says
August 22, 2018 at 12:06 pmThanks for the link, Lorraine. As for what meditation is, I think it can be the kind of guided relaxation you’ve done in yoga. That’s a great starting point for many people. Less stressful.
Ha–sorry about that speeding ticket. Been there. :)
S.K. Rizzolo says
August 22, 2018 at 10:57 amThank you, Barbara! I always have trouble sustaining a meditation practice, but your post inspires me to try again. Reading a poem before I start the day’s writing is also helpful, I find.
Barbara O'Neal says
August 22, 2018 at 12:07 pmA poem a day is a powerful tool, for sure. I use that, too. I fall off and on, too, with meditation, but I figure as long as I keep trying, it’s good.
Vaughn Roycroft says
August 22, 2018 at 11:08 amAh, a truth I’ve come to not only accept but embrace. Excellent idea to promote the phenomenon, Barbara. Yes, five to fifteen minutes of meditation before each session works wonders for me.
Here are a few quirks of mine. First, I don’t really call it meditation. Or even think of it as such. I think of it as a “visualization period.” And I actually lay down (on a guest room bed adjacent to my office). I pull my hat brim over my eyes (complete darkness helps).
Also, though I know the point is to clear one’s mind, I actually do allow myself to focus on the story. Well, sort of. It’s difficult to explain, as it’s neither too specific nor too vague. I put the setting of the upcoming scene in mind, and I focus on the POV character for a minute. Then I purposely put the specifics out of my mind. I make all of that (character, setting, etc.) a sort of calm pool, and I drift on it.
Some days epiphanies strike me as I float, and I get right up and get to work. Other days I drift off (sometimes even to sleep). Many days I arrive at no specifics, but when I get up and refocus, stuff is just… there. It’s really tough to explain, but it is undeniable. My brain has worked on, and often solved, story issues while I let it drift.
It’s weird and it’s wonderful. Thanks for writing about it. Even though the above might make no sense, you’ve made me feel less weird. And that’s wonderful.
Barbara O'Neal says
August 22, 2018 at 12:08 pmBeautiful description, Vaughn. That holding/not holding is the thing that works for me, too. Like sending out a messenger to get the stuff I need while I take a shower. Which is hardly as poetic as the way you phrased it.
It is weird. But writing is weird, too. I’m glad to know you’re a practitioner, too.
Susan Setteducato says
August 22, 2018 at 11:19 amBarbara, I’m working on an essay called ‘De-mystifying Meditation’ and your post was so timely for so many reasons, not the least of which is the craziness of life intruding on my well-planned, so-called order. Thankfully, the intrusions are mostly joyful, but I still feel sometimes like I’m grasping for quiet hours in which to work. Mediation creates space for me in which to let go of the pic. Yes, it’s hard. Sometimes, anyway. Sometimes it’s like flying. Either way, the payoff is enormous. Calmness sneaks up on you and suddenly you realize you’re not clenchingyour jaw. I just finished reading Steven Pressfield’s ‘War of Art’, and he touches on the mysteries of opening ourselves to the subconscious. I also think the folks who wrote the Vedas had insight into this stuff, but one doesn’t have to be a student of ancient scriptures to sit still and know the presence of the ineffable. Beautiful way start to the day here! Thanks so much.
Barbara O'Neal says
August 22, 2018 at 12:09 pmI’ll look forward to reading your essay, Susan. And thanks for the reminder of the War of Art. I enjoy that book very much .
Susan Setteducato says
August 22, 2018 at 11:21 am‘Pic’, above, is supposed to be ‘panic’! Ha
Alisha Rohde says
August 22, 2018 at 12:11 pmI’ve started meditating regularly this summer, using the Headspace app. I’ve done some meditating before, in and around yoga (and in addition to the end-of-class savasana, which I love), but using Headspace has encouraged me to be consistent and find a little time every day–even on days when I’m not working actively on the writing.
Initially, I’ve been doing this for the literal head space–meaning I’m working on my own general busy brain-ness and minor anxiety. Any creative benefits are (so far) pretty indirect, but that’s OK. I can tell that forcing the issue is the opposite of what I need to be doing right now!
Tom Bentley says
August 22, 2018 at 12:22 pmBarbara, meditation, yes. My brain is kimchi anyway, but the pickling comes to finest fruition after meditation. I’ve been meditating near-daily for a couple of years now, and I recognize that it’s helped with my native world gloom, and to open a curtain to let the day begin.
And indeed, writing ideas pop into the popcorning mind during meditation too, even though I try to gently shush them (shaddup already!) to go back to the breath and its rhythms. I use the Mindfulness app, using a voice guide for the first part, and then just a bell-ring interval with an ocean lapping-wave shoreline playing for the second phase. (All those filters are adjustable, though sadly they don’t have screaming cats as an option.)
Nepenthe, a lovely spot, which I’ve been to many times. There’s a crazy dance scene from The Sandpiper (Liz Taylor, Richard Burton) that was filmed there. But there always seem to be crazy dancers of some sort when I go. Good post!
Heather Webb says
August 22, 2018 at 12:25 pmIt’s interesting, Barbara. I’m not the sit-still type and in fact, I find it painful in some regards. Maybe this is the point of meditation on some level, but I’m so distracted by the sitting still that I can’t relax. I very much enjoy meditation, but mine takes a different shape. The kind I enjoy is moving meditation. Repetitive motions that help me to drain the stress away and clear my mind. Perhaps this is why I’ve always loved running, biking, and swimming, coloring, cooking. An activity where I’m moving, but my mind becomes freed by the deeply calming and repetitive nature of the motion. Like mandala making!
I do enjoy the books that come out of that pot of yours. :) Keep at it! Ha.
Barbara Morrison says
August 24, 2018 at 11:59 amYes, I do moving meditation as well. Either the Sheng Zhen form of Qi Gong I practice or simply taking a long walk (sans dog, sans earphones, sans companion).
Charlotte Dixon says
August 22, 2018 at 12:29 pmI agree so whole-heartedly with you on this, Barbara. I started a meditation practice three years ago and I love it. I get the best ideas when meditating, and I also come away feeling like my brain has had a good cleanse. If I stray from the practice (as I do when I get busy), my mind starts to feel a bit wonky and I can’t focus as well. (And I need all the help I can get with staying focused.) So I’m a huge fan. Thanks for a lovely post about it.
Carol Dougherty says
August 22, 2018 at 12:50 pmThanks, Barbara. Funny how it can sometimes be as hard to sit down and meditate as it is to sit down to a blank page.
My first meditation experience was at a writing conference during which Natalie Goldberg taught writing as a zen practice (10 minute timed writing with a prompt). I found it so powerful, then and at her own workshops, that I took a 15-year detour into the world of Zen.
Nat later took writing practice further, doing writing sesshins – mediation, writing, walking meditation, reading – all in silence (except the reading). It showed me so clearly how after a period of meditation, the words poured out, and being in silence strengthened the impact and the desire to communicate.
Now, when I’m doing workshops and teach writing practice, it’s a combination of meditation followed by writing practice. Some folks find it very powerful, some hate it and opt out, one person became very aggressive and challenged how I came up with the prompts and why I was doing it the way I was doing. Seemed she didn’t like going that deeply into what she was writing.
And I guess that’s the key for me. The meditation slows things down just enough to allow me to drop deeply into my story, my character, my scene, whatever it is I’m working on. And quite often the writing itself takes an unexpected turn and I learn something I might not otherwise have discovered.
Your post on writing with duende was pretty incredible also. I wanted to comment but simply didn’t know what to say. Thanks.
Keith Cronin says
August 22, 2018 at 1:12 pmOkay, I’m sold. Particularly since I had to abandon my previous “drink until you forget who’s president” technique, I’m definitely ready for a new approach to opening my mind.
Thanks for pointing us to a good starting point!
Gwen Hernandez says
August 22, 2018 at 3:46 pmBarbara: I always feel better when I meditate regularly, and yet I’m still so bad about sticking with it. For the same reasons you mentioned. But I’ve been feeling the need to get back to it lately–my brain feels less tired when I give it space from this world of constant input–so I appreciate the reminder to just do it.
Barry Knister says
August 22, 2018 at 4:26 pmHi Barbara. If meditation works for you, you shall say you nay? I am old enough to remember the TM craze in the seventies, Transcendental Meditation. The Beatles got a lot of the credit or blame for it. Middle managers were sent off for training weekends to master the techniques. During the work week, they were then to find themselves a clothes closet during their lunch break, assume the lotus position among the hanging coats, and go into mantra mode for twenty or so minutes. The idea was to improve productivity. I always had my suspicions about employing a method for sprucing up the bottom line that was intended to free devotees from the bondage of worldliness and the senses. But as I (or the French) say, a chacun a son gout.
Deborah Makarios says
August 22, 2018 at 8:07 pmI’ve found a bit of fairly plain knitting (ideally in the round) can be a very meditative way to start the work-day. Useful for those of us who get fidgety when we have nothing to do with our hands!
Maggie Shayne says
August 23, 2018 at 7:53 amBeautiful post, but yours always are. I’d only add that for me a guided meditation (with someone talking) and silent meditation are very different things. In guided meditation, I’m listening to the voice of the instructor and focusing on a specific topic.
In silent meditation, the voice of my Higher Self (spirit, whatever you call it) has space to come through, and blocks of wisdom are downloaded.
I LOVE that 5 -7 minutes works for you! I also get antsy with 15.
Katina says
August 23, 2018 at 12:40 pmYes! I love this post, Barbara!
I just got back on the wagon like two weeks ago after not having done it for a while. I’m just as puzzled as Gwen on this too. If we benefit so much from it, why is the habit hard to keep going? *shrugs*
The world is full of white noise, and headlines that rob our creative projects of the attention they deserve. It’s just good to dump all of that out, quiet the mind, and let the things we want (solutions, new ideas, etc.) bubble up to the surface.
Anywho, I’ve liked and shared!
Erica Alexander says
August 24, 2018 at 5:55 pmI love guided meditation. Have a few on my phone that I listen to on and off. Also find that listening to binaural sounds help me focus and with the creative flow. Thanks for the article. Going to check on Fragrant Heart. I’m not familiar with this one.