On Being Intuitive
It's not exactly a yellow-bricked road....or....is it?
I’ve written before about the “Hang In There” aspect of writing, specifically becoming a published author. But today, I’m exploring a different approach.
While the idiom “Hang In There” is an utterance of encouragement, somehow, in the same breath it also says you’re losing, or barely in the game. (To me, at least.) The intended meaning is don’t give up, and no, I’m not giving up, but I also feel like I’m hitting a wall with just buckling down and “toughing it out.” Other Hang In There synonyms include:
Stay The Course
Keep Your Chin Up
Grin and Bear It
Stick With It
Soldier On
I’m toying with the fact that sometimes as a writer, you have to put something down and come back to it at another time - a time which is mystically determined. I absolutely love when I read something from a journal of mine that I don’t remember writing, and it seems profound, or at least very specific to what I need to hear in that moment when I’m reading it. I also love when I read something in my google drive folder, and it is so good that I seriously doubt that I wrote it. That’s what time and space away from the thing can do for me.
Taking a hint from Rick Rubin’s The Creative Act, A Way of Being, I want to better tune in more to my own intuition, the inner knowing of what needs to come next, rather than to rely on another exercise from Blueprint, or Save The Cat. (Does it sting that I am using another creative how-to book to justify putting down other craft how-to books? A little bit, yes it does.) Kerry Savage calls this craft and education reliance and dependency the Competence Trap. It’s when you’re beyond beginner, but now understand how much further you have to go before the finish line, and feel overwhelmed or “stuck.”

Once, back in 2004, I invited my immediate supervisor at my “new media agency” job to enjoy some backstage passes to The Bridge School Benefit at Shoreline Amphitheatre, where I also worked on weekends during the concert season. He was torn, because as much as he wanted to attend, his beloved Red Sox were also playing in The World Series. He did, in fact, take me up on the offer and was thrilled to spot Rick Rubin among the backstage industry guests that day. I wouldn’t have known who Rick Rubin was back then.
“I feel so much cooler than I actually am.”
What Glen Thompson said when he spotted Rick Rubin backstage at Shoreline Amphitheater, 2004.

Another thing I’ve been saying in this My Writing Life newsletter/blog (I do know those two words are not synonyms but indulge me while I treat them as such!) is that learning to accept and appreciate my own tendencies - things like taking notes constantly, things like awkwardly observing someone’s gesture, or making a point to stop and stare so I can commit something to memory - these are the very things that I’ve been doing since I was about 7 years old; some of what I do in service of my writing. It’s my way of being, to borrow Rick’s subtitle.
Barbara Summers, a writer on The Brevity Blog last week shared an essay comparing writing to spin class - “waiting for the shift,” which means persevering until she gets to the epiphany, or the finish line….powering through the hard stuff instead of quitting. The line that really stood out for me was that she wanted to be someone who finished what she started. I do too. But powering through doesn’t always work for me.
A writing buddy said today she was going to “turn toward” a piece she’s been trying to finish…a piece she worries is too long, or not out soon enough, or contains bits she’s not sure make sense….and I like how she simply gave herself the grace to move in the direction of just working on it. To turn toward it. To breathe it in and see what happens.
At the beginning of this Rick Rubin interview by Anderson Cooper, my favorite thing to see in an interview happened:
Should we spend like two minutes, eyes closed, meditating, before we start - to just like really Get HERE?”
Rick’s question to Anderson.
This is the practice I use when writing, at the beginning of a session. I learned it during Suzanne Kingsbury’s Gateless Academy, she says it drops your mind into a theta state, it gets you into your body. But hearing that Rick does it all the time makes me feel like I’m really doing The Artist Thing. I also love that Rick does not play any instruments, nor does he work the sound board, he just knows what he likes and is good at articulating that.
So I’m encouraging myself, and I’m encouraging you, fellow writer; Go with the flow. Stop berating yourself for not being on time, or for going off on a tangent. Pay attention to those weird memories that crop up, or the songs that stick in your head. The synchronicity of running into something unexpected in real life, but just right for the scene you’ve been working on for days. Write about it. Let your intuition lead the way, and maybe you’ll end up somewhere beyond your wildest imagination.
Fingers Crossed.


Voice with a capital V is everywhere in this. Sentence length. Noun choice. The rhythm and the nature of the asides. The knockout combo of humor and empathy that pulls me in every time. Reminding me that being brave, bold, and true isn't always about the narrative of dramatic or larger-than-life moments, but about the moments when we find our POV and Say The Thing... like this moment. Like this piece.
I took a break from berating myself on a piece I'm struggling with to read your newsletter. So I guess I needed to read your newsletter! I like the idea of "turning toward." Really good. Thank you.