Our theme for membership 2024-25
We had a great time talking writing and rejection with at the August LEAP OUT session. If you’ve considered becoming a Blue Stone but have yet to take the leap yourself, learn more here.
Special thanks to romance writer and pitch witch Megan Clark for joining us and sharing her wit and wisdom! This conversation was the perfect launching pad for the 2024-25 membership theme: NO APOLOGIES.
Yep. That’s the theme for our membership meetings, classes, and retreats for the coming year. But what does that mean? Let’s discuss.
Remember that pic of the Esperanza growing in my backyard?
And have you ever heard the gardening adage First year it sleeps, second year it creeps, third year it leaps?
These yellow blooms are the perfect example. Left to its own devices, this plant has leapt in its third year. Of course, we’ve had more rain this summer in Austin than last summer (to say the least), and that has turned my whole backyard into habitat, and therefore a shady place for wild things to pause. The yard is alive with moths and butterflies, wood lizards and frogs, the occasional small possum, and birds of all kinds—woodpeckers, mockingbirds, wrens, robins, jewel-bellied hummingbirds. They’ve found water and shade to hide in the heat of the day (unless our dog is out patrolling, and then they scatter; but even he can’t scare the foragers away from the fig tree). It’s wild and unruly and beautiful back there.
The garden did not ask our permission. It just did what it was intended to do—leap, grow wild, take up space.
Not all the plants survived of course. As in writing, when some things take up the space they need, other things fall away. My own writing has grown a little wilder this past year, and while some stories have rushed forward, others have taken a backseat.
I ventured into horror, which felt like a real no apologies territory for me. I have always incorporated women’s health issues into my fiction writing, but working in the horror genre helped me be raw, honest, and experimental in a brand new way. I’d like to keep up the momentum of this unchecked, unapologetic writing in the coming year, but what does that mean? The phrase No Apologies will mean something different to everyone, and I think it’s going to take some reflection and experimentation for me to figure out exactly what it means for me.
I’m on the journey with you. Let’s work this wildness out together with some guided writing.
Guided Writing: No Apologies
Quick recommendation: Change the atmosphere before you sit down to write. Look out a different window, light a candle, pour a refreshing beverage and savor a sip before you pick up the pen. As always, take the time you need to arrive. Take 1-2-3 deep breaths.
WARM UP // Listen and free-write to “What You Need”* by Golden Blue. Here’s Spotify and YouTube. I first learned of this band from Chelsea Francis’s delightful newsletter. This song is a fun, upbeat “No Apologies” anthem. Write for ~4 minutes, the length of the song. *If writing to lyrics is too distracting, you can just listen for your own enjoyment OR consider this upbeat ambient tune of a similar length.
REFLECT // Is there some kind of wildness in you that wants to stop apologizing? Okay, just go with me on this one. Imagine the bit of wildness inside of you to be something with color and texture—like a flame or a butterfly or even a wood lizard longing for sun. It’s hiding right now, but it’s longing to move and be seen. Describe this inner wildness for 4.5 minutes. Let it take whatever shape it needs to.
STRETCH // What would it feel like if the wildness came out of hiding, unfurled its wings/scales, and did what it liked? Describe this little wild thing stepping into the light, moving in whatever way it needs to move (could be scrabbling up a tree for some ripe figs). Write for 7 minutes.
GROW WILD // Locate the song “Your Light” by British band The Big Moon. Here’s Spotify and YouTube. Listen to the song and free-write (jotting down whatever comes to mind), or move about for a five-minute movement break—dance, wash some dishes, step outside and stretch your arms as high as they’ll go, or simply stare, smile, and breathe. Whatever feels right. Write or dance about for the length of the song (5 minutes), or beyond if you have extra time.
INTEND // Okay. Take a deep breath. Take five minutes to jot down how you will take up space in the coming year without apologies. Write your thoughts down—in list-form, in poetry, in a manifesto, etc.—for five minutes.
Bonus: Share 3+ intentions to take up space with a trusted fellow writer/artist. Ask them to swap some of their own. Affirm each other’s intentions.
Take a breath. Take another one for good measure. Thank yourself for taking this time.
crafting pitch language can help you crack codes in revision! SAve the date(s) for our october classes, back by popular demand.