All of us — especially writers — need friends who can cut through our crap and help us stick to our path. Cherish yours — or go find one. Until then, you can borrow Sandi.
My friend Sandi is whip-smart, tough, lovely and wise. One of her super-powers is to make order out of anything. Even my messy mind.
She quickly sees a simple structure that guides what belongs and what must go, then strategically edits — usually with the very best, well-maintained tool for the job — to bring anything into proper order and alignment with purpose.
It may be a pile of stuff, a room, or project in her family’s home. A schedule. A life. A group of people on a noble mission.
Sandi inspires other people, too, to reach for their bigger, better purpose. She’s in high demand, her days jam-packed with making things happen.
So I always feel lucky to visit Sandi and her beautiful family and home in Boston, where we met many years ago. They are gracious hosts who open their home and guest room, lovingly absorb me into their family life. They even drive me around, ask nothing in return and make it all look easy. True hospitality. I feel like a queen.
I visited in late March, hungry for a burst of new, spring energy and for the tried-and-true inspiration of a writers’ conference at Boston University, my alma mater.
The conference was fantastic.
But the shiniest take-home gem was Sandi’s insight.
Filling My Cup
Sandi met me at South Station. I arrived rumpled from the train ride, yet glad for the long, productive stretches of work time above the soothing rhythm and gentle rumble of steel wheels.
The next morning, we sipped our coffees and the green smoothies Sandi made from her new blender as powerful as a boat propeller. We shared the spring sunshine and news from our families and our work. Tending a rich, longtime friendship in person always fills my cup.
Sandi’s kind, capable and generous husband is doing well. Their two sons are growing fast, becoming young men and thriving. She’s crushing her calling in philanthropy — which is so gratifying. I remember when she envisioned her purpose and aligned her life so she could go to graduate school.
We talked about my family and my personal writing work, my commitment to tell the story about how my dad’s broken families had gathered together around him for a surprisingly wonderful dinner, a story of making peace in my family-of-origin that brought me great peace and healing. Read that story and related ones.
I’m determined. I’d achieved a few small victories. But things weren’t quite working out along the course I’d plotted. Muddled and anxious, I mulled over what to do next.
Pitch Perfect & Perfect Timing
Sandi listened.
Obsession? Check. Life experience? Yep, got that too. Many, many drafts and rough pieces on the hard drive.
But where’s it all going? What’s the plan?
Not your job to worry about that, she said. Just keep writing the story.
“Write your story,” she said. “Nobody has that story but you.”
“So … I just need to —”
“SHUTUP AND WRITE!”
I busted with laughter.
“Thank you,” I said. “Now I just need to your picture and that quote on top of my desk!”
Even better. Sandi whipped out her phone and recorded her own voice and cartoon head — an animated “memoji” — speaking those three words three times, then shining her beautiful, computer-generated smile. One quick swipe and it was on my phone, too.
Anytime I’m stuck, I’ve got this little video of her lovely, floating head with her black-framed glasses looking stylish and super-smart in her stunning, shimmering gray bob, and pearly smile.
“Shutup and WRITE!”
Beautiful. Brilliant. Simple.
Life is Hard — We Need Our Tribe
Sweet darlings: Cherish any friend who can cut through your crap and tell you what you most need to hear. If you don’t have a friend like that, turn off this screen and go find one. Go do something you love to do and smile at someone who seems nice. Strike up a conversation. See where it goes.
Then find another until you have a bunch. People are busy and you need backups. Make them your tribe. I’m so very grateful for my large tribe, my family-of-choice built over decades. You know who you are 😉
Life is hard. Discovering and actually fulfilling our life’s purpose? Also hard, hard work.
This is especially true if you are a writer, artist, creative, free agent or entrepreneur. We make stuff out of nothing. Start over from scratch all the time. Fail a lot. We must fail fast and keep pivoting toward success.
It gets lonely. We need our friends. Our tribe. They are essential support, conduits for inspiration, delivering whatever pep talk we need at that moment: Keep going. Keep showing up. Keep making. Trust. Believe.
Necessary Isolation
I do most of my writing work alone. I must in order to get my highest-priority writing done.
But then I get a little too isolated in my bubble. A little weird. Suddenly, I’m on the yoga mat in my studio spooning with the big dog. (Not that there’s anything wrong with that!) Or, I’m wandering around outside mid-day in the clothes I woke up in, still all disheveled with bed-head because I went right to the desk and got in the zone. Then … just forgot to check the mirror.
I need to come out of the cave, put on some lipstick and dance with my dearest friends. We all do.
Flashlight for the Dark Forest
Then, Sandi and I dove deeper — because while she’s right, I still need a rough idea of a road map, a sense of structure. I’d explored a few initial book ideas long enough to know they would dead-end. I’d been thinking and thinking on my train ride … thinking so very hard. Stuck on where to go next.
Sandi shared her refreshing, very cool idea for a structure. I love it.
She handed me a flashlight for the dark forest. By the time we parted, I could see the bright hash marks on the tree trunks, marking the trail.
I soaked in her invaluable strategic vision. My pro retreat became a sacred and spiritual one, because this whole project is a leap of faith I must make. If I shutup long enough to listen, and keep the faith, I am granted priceless, divine guidance. It’s a deep-tissue spa treatment for my brain and psyche.
Sandi shared her divine gift for alignment — to properly organize space and time around goals — a nudge, some encouragement. Now, it’s up to me to plot the course.
Later in the weekend: “Plan your work. Work your plan.” She said it to her younger son about a bike repair, but I grabbed that little morsel, too, and packed it away. Simple. Priceless. Strategic.
I returned home to our valley refreshed, inspired and clear as a bell, because I’d been to “the mountain” — one that just happens to be in the heart of a major city that was once both my playground and kiln.
I’ve been writing. Aligning. Committing. Shutting up for long stretches so I can say something. Plotting and planning my work. Working my plan, baby.
Thank you to my talented, generous friend for her divine guidance. Now — shutting up. So many miles to go.
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