Distraction and The Story Only You Can Tell

Ever taken up botany for "no good reason?" Keep reading...

There's a certain dance that has shown up countless times in my life as an editor.

You might be a marketing expert whose partner died tragically on the side of a highway. You might be a former writer for the New York Times whose work came under fire for calling things the way you see them. You might be a financial expert who sees abusive practices in industry-standard advice.

But instead of writing about or stepping into these experiences that have had a profound impact on who you are today, you decide to take up an interest in wooden picture frames. Even though dozens of stories float around in your brain all day about The Story Only You Can Tell, you opt for botany. Or coffee bean roasting.

If I had to put a psychological lens over this dance, I'd say it's a dance away from the inner self.

It's the knack we creatives have to write about or create something that is an arm's length distance from ourselves.

The interesting part about this dance is that most creatives have a pretty big flex in their talents. This means that folks looking in from the outside won't know you're distracting yourself, because, frankly, whatever you put your hand to usually turns to gold.

The trouble is: you know deep inside what you're dancing around.

I've done this dance countless times, and here are a few thoughts from my editor's desk about relating with this inner resistance:

The dance is how your mind, body and talents come to terms about what you really need to give the world one day. The dance is both a distraction and a tool of Mending.

I don't owe anyone anything, and neither do you. The Story Only You Can Tell doesn't belong to anyone besides you. But if you feel tension around wanting to tell it and feel eternally stuck, I've learned the only way forward is through. (Or to pick up another distraction ... I mean, hobby?) Keep working with your impulse to distract yourself and extend compassion and patience toward yourself. You're not ready yet for a reason.

For writers, this means putting pen to paper about the things that mean something to them, even if they aren't remotely related to The Story Only You Can Tell. I publish this kind of writing on the free side of my Substack because I am sharing a true part of myself, and I'm hopeful it'll help others find a place of rest or inspiration.

For the longest time I used to write Word documents filled with stories and thoughts and responses to things that made me furious. And they never saw the light of day. But you know what? They could've been published, and I would've been just fine.

This writing matters in the dance. Even if it's writing that never gets picked up and acclaimed from the rooftops. This practice of writing and publishing what you think about the ways of the world is a fruitful step in trusting your writer's instincts and declaring to the world, "Here I am."

Where are you today with your writing? Are you telling The Story Only You Can Tell? Or are you in a season of dancing?