It’s been a tough year. A lot of changes, some good and some really hard. Though I’m well aware that joy and pain intertwine throughout life, that knowledge doesn’t soften the hard stuff.

Probably the most difficult part of this year was losing my mother-in-law. Despite all the mother-in-law stories out there, I had a good one. We got along. Watching her slowly decline was probably more difficult than her actual death. By the time she passed, she had been more than ready.

Between the caretaking and her death, my husband and I were spent.

For me, getting away is healing. Clearing my mind and changing scenery are important parts of my healing process.

So, as fate would have it, shortly after my mother-in-law passed, a writer’s workshop invitation landed in my inbox.

I hadn’t been to any type of writer’s gathering since the 90s, when I was part of a children’s literature group. So, the idea of a writer’s workshop intrigued me– and frightened me. It was being held in Montana. I’d never been but heard plenty about its beauty.

I started thinking that maybe this invitation hadn’t come by accident.

I signed up.

Do What Scares You

I believe that sometimes the most important things we do for ourselves involve discomfort. I’ve tended to lean into things that are hard, maybe just to see if I can actually do them. This workshop was no different.

I thought about the talented writers who would likely attend, far more polished than I was. Don’t let anyone tell you that age removes all insecurity. It doesn’t.

We were asked to read a book before attending the workshop: Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf. Full disclosure: not my genre. Considered by some a masterpiece, I struggled with every darn page. I read sentences over and over just to try and make sense of the story. To no avail.

By the end, I was proud of myself for finishing it, but certain I would be the only one who found it confusing and difficult to read. On top of that, I’m not well-versed in the classics and their authors, which I was certain everyone else attending would be.

Fortunately, wisdom stepped in, reminding me that this was an opportunity of a lifetime: a chance to meet new people who also loved to write and to learn from a great leader and facilitator, Neal Allen, co-author with his wife, Anne Lamott, of “Good Writing: 36 Ways to Write a Better Sentence.

“It will be worth it,” wisdom said. “Being a little scared is okay.”

How Lucky Can One Get?

When I arrived at the airport in Montana, I spotted our fearless leader, Neal, holding up a sign: Good Writing.

I had made it. I was actually in Montana, about to spend a week with fellow writers.

Slowly, the other attendees made their way to Neal’s gathering spot before we boarded the van. My future friends introduced themselves and shared where they were from and a bit about their writing.

Nice people. I thought. No pretension lurking.

The 45-minute drive to our hotel told me everything I needed to know about this group: they were fascinating, funny, and passionate about writing. Some found Mrs. Dalloway a tough read, too.

Yeah, I think this is going to be a good week.

A visit to Yellowstone!

The Inner Critic

During our first day of the workshop, we started with writing exercises Neal gave us. His approach was simple: take 30 minutes and write from a prompt. When time was up, we passed our writing to the person beside us. They read it and chose their favorite sentence.

Of course, having never done this exercise, I was certain there was not a sentence of interest to be found in mine.

To my surprise, someone found one and read it aloud.

We did variations of this exercise throughout the week, and it was incredibly helpful. What we believe is subpar or uninteresting may look entirely different to someone else. Sometimes we’re simply too close to our own work to see what’s good about it.

In addition to writing, we did exercises designed to help us recognize and push aside our inner critics. Given my overenthusiastic inner critic, this was a valuable exercise. Come to find out, the inner critic has a lot of opinions, many of them encouraged over the years.

But I wasn’t alone: every woman there openly shared her experience with her inner critic.

I found myself wondering how these amazing, talented women could possibly doubt their work. They were so good. Yet the inner critic is tenacious.

Writing, Laughing and Healing

Over the course of the week, the 11 of us laughed, learned, and genuinely liked one another. I point that out because at these types of events, invariably someone gets on your nerves or just sends out a negative vibe. We had none of that. It was a group of women with stories. Some heartbreaking, others about personal experiences, families, and love. Lots and lots of love.

I grew more confident in my writing and more inspired to keep working on my book. And through the meaningful conversations, I experienced some much-needed healing.

It’s amazing what can happen when we recognize what we need and take the risk to pursue it.

We get so caught up in life, expectations, and other people’s priorities that we lose sight of our own. I know that’s what happened to me. I said yes to things I shouldn’t have. I stopped doing the things I really loved. And I put aside my passion for writing because I figured, no one will ever read it, so what’s the point?

Turns out, that was my inner critic talking again. And I thought I talked a lot!

Just one week away–meeting incredible women and learning from a gracious and thoughtful leader made this a workshop I will never forget.

The stars aligned that week.

I’m grateful I took the risk. I’m grateful I went even though I was uncertain. And I’m especially grateful that somewhere along the way, a writing workshop became about much more than writing.

Sometimes making room for what we love means also making room for a little discomfort.

And sometimes, being a little scared is worth it.

That’s love in action!

Nicki