People write for all sorts of reasons. Most people who write would say it’s a calling or a job or some fun/important/fill-in-the-blank thing they decided to do. The best writing comes from people who can’t not write. The ones who have an innate talent to bring song and cadence and meaning to a string of words. The most memorable writing can come from people who may lack as much “natural” ability but ooze passion (and accept help, see below); giving voice to a cause is a potent weapon. And when you have talent or passion or both, you write what’s laid on your heart, even if there’s merely a small audience or “limited appeal.” The very best writers are also the ones who know they didn’t actually give birth to Words on a page, trying to lay claim to each one, clutching each to their breast. Translation? They employ professional editors and allow them to prune and shape and strengthen their words—and their impact. Published writers know great writing is most often a process.

Most people who write, or say they want to write, long for the “how” of the matter. How do you write? How do you do it well? Where are the magic beans?! But there’s no trick or pill or seminar or special writing ritual that makes the difference. Jonathan Fields recently wrote the following advice to writers on his blog entitled Book Marketing: What If You Could Only Do One Thing?:

Write because you give so much of a damn…Write because your heart tells you it’s a soulful, cognitive or moral imperative. Write because God told you this is why you’re here. Write because there’s something that’s gotta get out that nobody else can say. Write because you’ve got something to say that will leave people changed. But, more than anything else, write the #$@% out of your book [or article, manifesto, or whatever you want to set to paper]. Write to blow minds, rip open closed hearts, illuminate the human condition or otherwise move life’s needle forward in a profound way. Write as if this is your last book. Ever. Your legacy.

Patti Digh tells it like it is in her latest blog, How to Write (a Book). A Wee Rant, giving simple, practical, true advice. I agree with what she says, although I do think of myself as a writer and not only as someone who writes. I know the verb is the ticket, but writing is more than an action I do; it’s part of who I am. It’s part of me, just like the fact that I’m female, have blue eyes, and not as tall as I wish I were. Or maybe Patti would say no, it’s the verb, silly, because it’s something I choose to do, more like the fact that as long as there’s color in a bottle and a stylist to apply it, I’ll have highlights. I just can’t not do it. Not for long. I’m drab without highlights; I’m desperate without words.

In reading Jonathan’s and Patti’s and an endless list other “successful writers” talking to those wanting to be successful writers, you know what it’s really like? Writing is a lot like losing weight; it’s that simple and that complex. Eat less, move more. But that’s hard work (constant effort, consistent patterns), so we look for an easy button, a magic pill that allows us to eat our cake and wear our (small) pants too! OK, maybe I’m oversimplifying, but really, for most situations, it’s about whether or not you want to and choose to lose weight…or eat those melt-in-your-mouth Hot-Now doughnuts. Do you get off the couch and move your behind or not? Either you put in the time and work and restraint or you stay where you are. If you need extra assistance (a trainer, a dietitian, an accountability partner), help is available at every price point. (I work out and watch what I eat, so I know it is all about what matters more to me—being healthy and fitting in my clothes or eating with abandon and sitting still.)

The same is true with writing: Do you want to write…or just talk about it? So what now? To paraphrase Patti: Sit the heck down and write! You write! (Gosh, Patti is right, it does all comes down to the verb—the action.) Own your desire, decide what matters most to you, and act accordingly.

How is your year unfolding? What are you spending your waking (nonworking) hours doing, watching, being, absorbing? Look over the past week or month of your life. Now answer this question: What’s your pattern of stimulation?

Are you usually passive, content with observing more than doing? And when you are engaged in something, what is that activity? What’s its meaning or function or purpose? Are you spending too much of your life viewing others live theirs? (And do you actually know the people you’re watching?!)

Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, author of Flow, writes, “Most of us spend many hours each week watching celebrated athletes playing in enormous stadiums. Instead of making music, we listen to platinum records cut by millionaire musicians. Instead of making art, we got to admire paintings that brought in the highest bids at the latest auction. We do not run risks acting on our beliefs, but occupy hours each day watching actors who pretend to have adventures, engaged in mock-meaningful action. This vicarious participation is able to mask, at least temporarily, the underlying emptiness of wasted time. But it is a very pale substitute for attention invested in real challenges. The flow of experience that results from the use of skills leads to growth; passive entertainment leads nowhere. Collectively we are wasting each year the equivalent of millions of years of human consciousness. The energy that could be used to focus on complex goals, to provide enjoyable growth, is squandered on patterns of stimulation that only mimic reality.”

That quote seems especially appropriate during the Olympics, grand tradition that it is. (Its $6 billion+ price tag leaves me wondering how many lives could be changed if it were carefully invested in some of the millions of people with needs {and/or innovative ideas} worldwide.) I’ve watched about 30 minutes, total, of the winter Olympics. I truly don’t care who wins, but I do root for everyone to do their best. (I know how it feels to perform in front of an audience; even if you come up short for the gold, it helps to know you did your personal best; and conversely it haunts to fall—literally or figuratively—and mentally replay the scene and what-ifs.) I don’t watch a lot of the Olympics because, frankly, it adds nothing to my life. Ditto for sports and TV sitcoms. Does it expand my mind or pay my bills or enrich my spirit? (Sometimes 30 Rock touches on that last one—laughter absolutely has value!).

I’m not anti-Olympics or sports or, for that matter, always (though sometimes) against things that qualify as, ahem, psuedo-activities (Farmville, anyone?). OK, I’m definitely anti-Farmville, but I won’t judge you. Promise. But I do want you to judge yourself. Stop sleepwalking through your days. Stop mindlessly crashing in front of the TV in the evenings because you think you’re too tired for anything else (and stay too tired to turn off the set so one cop drama turns into three hours of the stuff). Days turn into weeks, and years travel faster with each passing one. “How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives,” says Annie Dillard. How are you spending your life?

If being attached to a Wii makes your heart sing, well, it’s not for me to tell you to stick your nose in a book (which is one way my spirit hums). But I do challenge you to be deliberate and proactive in your choices. Too many of us live on automatic pilot, which is to say we don’t fully live by our own design. It’s easier (and more comfortable and way less threatening) to stay stuck in a comfortable habit instead of thoughtfully changing the status quo. Quit wearing the metaphysical brand of the masses and decide what you represent, what you stand for, what is most important to you. And then, as Nike asserts, Just Do It. Note the directive is active (not Just Watch It, or Just Sit There). So go on. Be mindful of each decision you make. Change the station or pattern if you’ve been on auto-mode and you’ll alter the direction of your day…and your life.

“Discovery consists of seeing what everybody has seen and thinking what nobody has thought.”

—Albert Szent-Gyorgyi

BusinessWeek authors Roger L. Martin and Jennifer Riel discuss “Innovation’s Accidental Enemies” in the January 14th issue. They say that leaders often demand proof that a new idea will work, thereby squashing innovation.

"Invention, my dear friends..."

Deductive and inductive reasoning are mainstream, leader-approved ways of brainstorming. With deduction, we utilize existing rules. When we use induction, we fashion a new rule from existing data. These standards, Martin and Riel point out, both use real-world, already-proven info to analyze potential ideas. “But for breakthroughs, there is no rule or pool of past data to provide certainty.” Fear of the unknown takes the lead and hampers creative juices and shuts down intoxicating what-if scenarios. (And if something failed in the past, that can nix any possibility for a second chance, even if the factors that led to its initial demise have reversed.)

The mentality of requiring hard evidence of past successes (for future ones) isn’t only a corporate problem; idea-busters tangle up personal endeavors too. If we get too wild, we may end up looking or feeling like an idiot, right? Yet, and here’s the painful truth: When we settle for what provides a modicum of safety on paper, sometimes we miss out on the magic that’s just beyond the margin.

To prevent security trumping innovation, the authors offer us a third option: abductive logic, aka “the logic of what could be.” They write, “To use abduction, we need to creatively assemble the disparate experiences and bits of data that seem relevant in order to make an inference—a logical leap—to the best possible conclusion.” This is a leap beyond standard “calculated risks.” Such magical could-be thinking allows more leeway in the boardroom—and at your kitchen table talking with family or friends about life matters.

And the outcome? “Asking what could be true—and jumping into the unknown—is critical to innovation. Nurturing the ideas that result, rather than killing them, can be the tricky part.” Leaping into foreign territory doesn’t mean we have to live there, or even stay overnight. Merely sitting down for an unrushed visit amid the wild and remote areas of our thoughts can produce amazing discoveries.

Are fears holding you back from trekking deeper into the unknown? Throw out your well-worn cranial processes, hitch your current thoughts to the logic of what could be…and see where your mind takes you. The destination might prove magical, maybe even miraculous. And to those of you who require things to add up neatly, percolate on this gem from Willy Wonka: “Invention, my dear friends, is 93% perspiration, 6% electricity, 4% evaporation, and 2% butterscotch ripple.”

“Look at the faces of people whom you meet. Each one has an incredible story behind their face. A story that you could never fully fathom. Not only their own story, but the story of their ancestors. We all go back so far. And in the present moment, on this day, all the people you meet, all that life from generations and from so many places all over the world, flows together and meets you like a life-giving water if you only open your heart and drink….”

—Brother David Steindle-Rast

epiphany: noun, a divine manifestation; a sudden realization or revelation of the deeper essence or meaning of something.

(The Day of) Epiphany in the liturgical sense refers to the Wise Men visiting baby Jesus, denoted as January 6 on the calendar (the twelfth day of Christmas). Most western countries and Christians don’t celebrate, recognize, or even realize there is such a holy day. When we use the word, we usually mean it in an ah-ha moment of illumination or whole-picture deeper meaning. Ohhhh, now we get it.

Last year I declared Epiphany as the day I take down the Christmas decorations. In part because I don’t fully begin to slow down enough to absorb the tree and other items until after the frenzy of December 25 is past. It’s in the aftermath of the holidays that I truly appreciate the twinkling lights on the tree and elsewhere. And yeah, it’s in part due to delay; I don’t like taking apart what took so long to get in place. It’s anti-climactic, a bit too much labor, and a wee bit sad too. Goodbye, and back to the attic you go until after Thanksgiving. (And tree lights, could you guys manage not to stop working sometime between now and then? I never understand how working lights going up to the attic, carefully, come down, carefully, from the attic not working.) Declaring a certain day to dismantle everything and pairing it with a day of heightened meaning makes the work less work-like and more ceremonial.

But I want, no, I expect this year’s Day of Epiphany to be one that I acknowledge and feel in my faith and experience in the philosophical sense, too. I am searching for the divine in the ordinary. Not in a looking-for-Jesus-in-the-cereal-bowl sort of way (and not posting a photo on Facebook if I happen to see a likeness there). Not in a “Let’s elevate the everyday to the sacred” way either.

I want an electrifying epiphany that knocks the blinders off my eyes and opens up new realities that seem incomprehensible, unfathomable, impossible today. OK, yeah, that’s asking a lot, right? But what if that’s why we don’t manifest epiphanies of miracle proportion as often as we should (or ever)? We don’t ask for or expect better. We don’t believe. We’re skeptics and scoffers and scorners. We’ve stopped asking big-picture questions ’cause we never feel like we get that last, crucial puzzle piece that would make the big picture make sense. We try to quieten our intuition because we don’t trust we have what we need to listen and heed its advice. (Our intuition still whispers to us, and we choose to ignore it at our own peril.)

What if you went to bed tonight, expecting to have an epiphany when you wake up? What might you dream or God nudge in your heart that could open your eyes to new visions the next morning? And what if you realized that sometimes you have to make the journey for the epiphany to take place? After all, the Wise Men knew Jesus wouldn’t come to them; they made the trip to discover him. And they made the trip believing they would find the divine manifestation—why else would they have toted those heavy gifts all that way?

Here’s my challenge to you and me: Start believing in miracle-size epiphanies; sometimes they’ll just appear, literally or philosophically. And start seeking them—look for the star and dare to set out after it. In doing so, we may make and meet the most glorious discoveries this side of eternity.

“As you give back to the world, passion and purpose are infused with new meaning—and you literally wake up to a fundamentally changed reality. Your soul’s purpose shines through your work, your work creates a better world, and you build a lasting legacy of wealth in the truest sense of the word.”

—Brendon Burchard

I’m unplugging to breathe in all that the remaining days of this year promise, and I cheerfully challenge you to do the same to whatever degree you can. Thank you so much for sharing your time, your thoughts, and your friendship with me during the last six months. I look forward to more conversations next year. Many prayers for each one of you to have miraculous and magical holiday moments (that you recognize and cherish!) and a lovely, peace-filled Christmas and New Year (free of resolutions but overflowing with powerful intentions). See you in 2010!

“Christmas gift suggestions: To your enemy, forgiveness. To an opponent, tolerance. To a friend, your heart. To a customer, service. To all, charity. To every child, a good example. To yourself, respect.”

—Oren Arnold

We’re only human, so we all need forgiveness. But what about pre-forgiveness? …

Christian tracts are always at my local post office. Sometimes they’re stacked in a neat little pile, as though someone shuffled and tapped them hard and even against the table, like a deck of cards. Other times one is standing up, as though an open-book pose will snag passers-by if they catch a word or phrase beaming out from the text.

An empty envelope had been left near such tracts, and the big blue stamp of “YOU’VE BEEN PRE-FORGIVEN OPEN TO FIND OUT HOW*” caught my eye. (Yep, it had the asterisk. Doesn’t every such claim?!) I stopped and took two steps backward to glance at the envelope again, maybe because I wondered if it were related to the Bible tracts or if the recipient had left it intentionally to draw more attention to them. But the envelope wasn’t promising eternal salvation—it was promising benefits via Nationwide Insurance. I know because my very own envelope, complete with letter, was waiting for me in my postal box.

“Dear Emily-Sarah, You’re pre-forgiven,” the letter starts. “[Y]ou can be forgiven before anything even happens.” They offer Accident Forgiveness (good on your first wreck), Minor Violation Forgiveness (for when the police officer doesn’t care how gorgeous you look when you zip by him at 85 mph), and Roadside Assistance. You can customize coverage to include only the features that fit into your lifestyle. The letter closes with “You can find forgiveness too.”

Customization is a great marketing tool, and it’s no surprise insurance is another industry hopping on the just-the-way-you-want-it boat. It’s smart. Pay for what you need/use, ditch the rest. Personalization prevails! (OK, let’s double up on the accident portion, just in case; I’ll forego the violation part—I have a really fetching smile.)

What made me take a second look (which is the point) is the tagline. But what captivates me the most is the message—not just Nationwide’s, but the intrinsic notion of “pre-forgiveness.” I think immediately of Jesus, God’s son who came to forgive us all, if only we believe; and then you are pre-forgiven for the bad stuff you’ll do, even post-salvation. My next thought is of that silly (100% bogus) saying “Love means never having to say you’re sorry.” And the next? An acquaintance’s liberal use of “It’s easier to beg forgiveness than ask permission.”