đď¸ Step 1 ¡ October: See it. Write to your friend.
Most of us write to the critic without noticing. This month you picture the other reader, the one who wants to hear what you have to say, and write the letter they send you after reading your piece. You leave with your reader and your first finished piece.
The last poem I ever wrote in Polish ended up in a garbage can. I was twenty-one. My boyfriend read it and asked why I wasted my time on poetry, and I believed him for twenty years. When I finally started writing again, every sentence was still addressed to him.
I wasnât the only one. On Saturday, with music playing and pencils in hand, we went looking for the other reader.
(*Names of the participants have been changed)
Who are you writing to?
Three minutes. Describe the person you write to, in as much detail as you can.
Mina, a violin teacher, wrote to herself ten years ago: new to New York, paying twice her old rent for a 100 square foot studio, figuring out how to fit an IKEA desk, a bookshelf and a bed into one room. After years of sharing a kitchen with seven people, she finally had her own. Mina thanked her for finding joy in the middle of all that uncertainty.
Dan started a letter to his inner five-year-old. Halfway through, he realized the five-year-old was the one holding the pencil.
The letter that comes back
Five minutes. Step one year forward. Write how you feel, in the most real emotions you can name, and write what people are telling you about your work.
Priya got emotional reading hers. Her readers told her that her stories of failure made it okay to pause, breathe, and try again.
Minaâs letter began, âDear Mina, you did it.â In it, her twelve violin students play freely, with emotion and confidence, and she is surrounded by a community of emotionally mature, supportive people. I wanted to cry. Happy tears.
Dan signed his letter âLittle Dan, Boy Wonder, five years old,â asking grown-up Dan to find him places to shine.
Thatâs Future Scripting⢠at work. When you write your readerâs response in detail, your nervous system starts treating it as real, and the critic loses its seat at your desk.
One micro action
We closed with one small step. Priya will write her first post and send it to three people. Dan texted a contact about sound work in Grand Rapids before the exercise was over. Mine is a seven-day experiment of delighting and surprising myself with small things. A few days ago I took a walk with no destination. It was unexpected and so much fun.
I never got that Polish poem back. These days I write in the early morning, before my house wakes up, to the person who embraces me for who I am.
What youâll leave with
The reader who wants to hear from you, the letter they send after your piece, and one micro action on your calendar. Bring a pencil, a blank page, and the piece you pulled from your archives in Step 0.
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Your pen is your permission slip.