Z – Zest

Zest. Gusto. How rarely one hears these words used. How rarely do we see people living, or for that matter, creating, by them. Yet if I were asked to name the most important items in a writer’s make-up, the things that shape his material and rush him along the road he wants to go, I would only warn him to look to his zest, see to his gusto.
Ray Bradbury

I was sure I’d lost my zest. I was pretty sure my gusto had flown the coop.

I tend to expect a lot of myself in terms of creative work. In the past I’ve enjoyed a high output of words and never thought that would change.

Until it did.

Last year, my body delivered its opinion of my expectations and how I handle stress by planting me in the hospital (10 days in March).  I’m still working on the necessary lifestyle adjustments it was clear I needed, including my attitudes toward my own production. Overachievers beware.

I came out of the hospital with two goals: make meaning and find middle ground. So I started a course to become a creativity coach and I got some accountability for my expectations. It’s a good thing I did because November brought the removal of my cancerous thyroid (great news) and the issues of adjusting the replacement hormone, which is a surprisingly long process. Fatigue on a whole new level, folks. If I had gone through that without someone reminding me it would be a good idea to “adjust your expectations, Robyn!” I’d have fallen into my old ways pretty fast.

Mind over matter and “just do it” have been a big part of my life until this past year. I’ve got a whole new level of compassion and empathy for people struggling to get their creative work done. I’ve got a whole new picture of what we do to ourselves with unrealistic expectations, both high and low. I’m navigating toward that middle ground.

So it seems the zest is still there. The gusto hasn’t flown away. I have good habits in place and a craving to put words on paper. Not long ago I complained to my coach about not getting thing done well enough or fast enough. She laughed and pointed to the task list I sent her, reminding me I was getting things done. And I do. I’ve had an enormously productive six months.

Just not the way I used to.

And I need to be okay with that.

Because I still have my zest.


How is your gusto? Do you feel that zest regularly?

X – Words as X-Rays

Words can be like X-rays if you use them properly–they’ll go through anything. You read and you’re pierced.
Aldous Huxley, Brave New World

The right words reveal our bony parts. They dig in and expose new thoughts, revelations, feelings. The right words can comfort or challenge, affirm or deliver a swift kick. The right words can change us entirely as we sit with them.  The desire to write the right words is strong. How many of us miss the mark?

When I think of the works of Brene Brown, C.S. Lewis, Judith Glaser, or Margaret Atwood, I think of the subtle shift of my being because I read the right words at the right time.

How often have you read words that revealed your bony parts? Can you recall a book or piece of writing that pierced you? How long did those words stay with you?

V – Voyage of Discovery

The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes.
Marcel Proust
Swann’s Way: In Search of Lost Time, Vol I

This is another of my favorite quotes. It’s helped a lot in times of feeling my circumstances were never going to change for the better. Developing new eyes, a new way of looking at things, has been so helpful.

The main reason I love this quote is because most main characters come to a moment of decision, a moment when they look on their circumstances with new eyes and perspective. It’s so pivotal and integral to story telling, isn’t it? I think it’s also pivotal in life, but that’s me.

What have you discovered when you’ve gained a new perspective? How did it change you? Do you relish this moment in every novel as I do?

T – Truth

That’s what fiction is for. It’s for getting at the truth when the truth isn’t sufficient for the truth.
Tim O’Brien

Humans are born with this amazing ability to replay scenes in our minds, to edit them, recast them, and alter actual events on our mental stage. It’s psychological benefits an be enormous (or destructive depending on the person).

Fiction is a bit like that. We can tell deep truths in stories that we can barely verbalize in the real world. We put our characters through emotional trials that are universal to humanity, allowing the readers to identify and invest in those characters from the front cover to the back. We can rewrite our own experiences and give our characters different reactions and results. That is just one way writing can be cathartic.

There is so much we say, both knowingly and unintentionally, in our work that is truth. What do you think of the quote? What does it bring to mind for you?

R – Reflection

I hear many people share with me that they just ‘have to do this thing’ before they can relax and slow down.
The truth is that taking the time to be still and reflective actually increases productivity and gives more joy to what you’re doing when it’s time to take action again.
Maria Erving

Of the new writers I speak to, about 70% of them don’t understand that writing requires “off time.” Call it mindlessness, pondering, boredom, reflection, or chilling out, we need time for our stories to incubate, time to ruminate on the characters and plot. It takes idle brain time for ideas to come forth.

It’s no secret I advocate a simple lifestyle, and the biggest reason is that busyness hampers us creatively. Filling my schedule with tasks and places to be and calls to make leaves no time for my pre-frontal cortex to switch off and the creative mind to work it’s magic. I’ll even be so bold as to say social media and smart phones are major contributors for the frustration new writers feel.

Our writing forebears might have been greatly helped by life prior to modern conveniences. When one spends significant time weeding the garden, cleaning laundry, or going about any number of rote chores, the brain has a chance to enter this neutral state.  These days, we walk (as many great writers have done) or exercise. Showers and baths are great. So is housework. Handwork is also a good alternative (knitting, crochet, and embroidery work, but I’ve had less success with counted cross stitch as I’m constantly referring to the pattern. My favorites are machine quilting, swimming, sitting at the pottery wheel, and washing dishes. Of course, nothing beats sitting in the window with a hot cup of coffee and watching the world go by.

In all of these cases, the body is doing its thing without active thought. Indeed, the brain is in a form of automatic pilot. It’s a different mode from when we are watching TV or playing on our cell phones.  It’s different from listening to music or quiet activities such as reading. It’s more like that state just before falling asleep or just after waking up, when the brain waves are not yet affected by the cortex. It’s believed to be created in part by the synchronization of the heart and the brain into rhythmic movement, and in part by being in neurological “neutral.” In both cases, relaxation is a big part of it. That’s a hard place to get to when busy, rushing, or filling time with less important activities.

I certainly don’t want to go back to the days when I’d be kneading bread or washing clothes by hand, but I do realize such mundane physical tasks are the perfect environment for the brain to create. As soon as I can get new writers to embrace this idea, they are amazed at how fruitful their minds become.


How do you incorporate mental stillness and reflection into your life? Can you tell the difference when you don’t get that time? Do you think I’m nuts or controversial for telling people to pare down their calendars or do physical labor?