Getting out of our heads
Yesterday I came across a clip that’s made me laugh out loud many, many times—a sketch starring Kate Berlant and John Early, two of my favorite comedians. Take a moment to watch the below and enjoy. CW: There is a tiny bit of cursing in this video. I find it delightful; if you suspect you won’t, skip the video and check out my thoughts on magic below. And y’all, they did not actually curse at the child actors in real life, rest assured. ;) Enjoy!
On this last viewing, I paid the most attention to the moment the first soap bubble drifts in from the ceiling and delights the dancers. It makes me think of the moments I’ve been frustrated, challenged, stymied by my own writing life, and then all of a sudden—something breaks the tension. It might be a funny text from friend, or my husband walking into the room to share how our dog is dreaming again and paddling his legs like he’s swimming, or an ordinary but brightly colored bird (house finch, woodpecker, cardinal) lands in the branches of the crepe myrtle outside my kitchen window and cocks its beak at me.
The bubbles in this sketch seem to happen as if by magic. How can we carve out space to feel/experience the same, knowing that we might not be so lucky as to see soap bubbles drift out of the sky and into our waiting hands unless we seek them out?
And then I’m reminded of the wildness of the natural world, or the delightful oddness of my amazing friends.
And I am inspired to dive back in with new ideas, or I’m inspired to walk away, because it’s actually a break I need—or to sign up for another volunteer shift, or to reach out to friends who will affirm my frustrations and offer wisdom.
I don’t think you can just hang around waiting for magic, though. It’s one of the reasons I started incorporating magic homework assignments into my Creative Commitment series.
Consider how you carve out space/time for potential magic to happen in your writing life.
When was the last time you experienced a magic interruption? Something that technically had nothing to do with what you were trying to create, but turned out to be a welcome distraction? If you can’t remember one, make one up. Write for 6.5 minutes.
How do you carve out time for potential magic in your creative life? Do you take walks in wild places? Do you make tea or pull Tarot cards? Do you chat with your characters as if they’re present? Make a list of possibilities—try and come up with 5+ ways you can call in magic (even if it won’t feel the same way each and every time). Take 5-6 minutes to make your list.
Take one minute to select one of these possibilities as your homework. Try to engage with this ritual in the next three days.
Write a scene in which a character or real-life person is interrupted, but it turns out to be a welcome moment, one that shifts the energy and shakes things up. Write for 12-13 minutes, or as long as you like.