Embracing the Intuitive Writing Process

When I first got serious about writing, I did what a lot of new authors do - flooded my mind with all kinds of tips, tricks, and advice.

Let me be clear, there is nothing wrong with seeking out information. In fact, it’s necessary so you can break the “rules” effectively later. But what often happens is that new authors feel like they’re drinking from a firehose. There’s too much information coming at them too fast. Not to mention the sheer number of choices you have to make. Decision paralysis, anyone?

Additionally, the information is often contradictory. You’re trying to implement everything being offered, even though it’s all working against itself. Then you find yourself burned out because you’ve been going ninety to nothing, but at the same time spinning your wheels. Now, you hate writing and never want to see another piece of paper or open another Word document ever again.

I’ve been there. In true human fashion, I didn’t get the message the first time going around that mountain. Or the second time. I had several hard burnouts before I realized I needed to find a way up the mountain instead of merely circling it. Yeah, I was doing a lot of things. I was busy. But being busy isn’t the same thing as being productive.

During the last major burnout, I said to myself, “Self, you know this isn’t working. Why the f*ck do you keep doing it?”

Uhhhhh… yeah. About that…

I was doing what most of us do - trying to fit in.

It’s an old habit from my childhood. Back then, I didn’t know I was Neurodivergent. I didn’t understand why I was different and spent a lot of time observing other people to try to grasp what the expectations were. And somehow, I still never got it quite right. That core wound carried over into adulthood. I was still trying to meet expectations I didn’t fully understand.

The Universe finally got tired of waiting for me to get it and said, “No ma’am. No more of that business.”

That was when I started to understand that my Priestess Practice isn’t something I do independently from my writing. My Practice is something that’s supposed to guide my writing.

I can’t write with outlines and story structure guidelines. I can’t identify tropes on my own or write-to-market. I can’t even be consistent about the number of words I write in a day, or how often I write. Those pieces of advice I got in the beginning turned out to be a hindrance more than a help.

For me, the stories must come spontaneously. I’m doing the dishes and a character starts speaking to me. I’m driving and the question “what if…” pops into my head. A dream plays out in such vivid detail I could swear it’s actually happening, and upon awakening I’ve been given the next part of whatever my current WIP is.

There is no method to the chaos. There is no logic in the process.

And this is Priestess Practice… listening to the Universe, and plucking different strings out of thin air that I can weave together into a work of art.

But you know what?

Even discovering early on that my Priestess Practice was an integral part of my writing process, I still didn’t fully surrender to it. I kept one foot on the ground and one foot on the hamster wheel. And let me tell you, that is PAINFUL. Like doing the splits with cold muscles. You’re going to injure something, no doubt.

It has taken eight long years. Eight years of struggle. Eight years of disappointment. Eight years of investing in a bunch of stuff I never should have put resources into. It’s taken eight years for me to FINALLY say, “okay, I surrender.”

I’ve taken a step back and begun to excise anything that’s sucking my soul dry. Rapid release deadlines. Keeping up with perceived reader expectations. Trying to get reviews on my books. Studying trends. Participating in toxic industry groups because I feel I have to stay connected to what’s going on. Posting on every social media platform known to man hoping the algorithm decides to show my posts to someone.

No more.

I know better.

I’m fully embracing the path that’s meant for me to walk in order to do my best work.

And that means trusting the Universe to lead the right people to me or guide me to the places I need to show up.

It means taking time in the morning to do Yoga, so my body is healthy and my mind is quiet enough to hear what’s trying to come through during meditation.

It means not writing every single day so my mind can rest and my Muse can play.

It means no more investment in a plethora of ads or ineffective private author coaching and instead, making more time for conversations and creating community.

It means remembering what my spiritual strengths are and using those as a guidepost to inform my writing.

It means being clear about my boundaries and what resonates in my soul.

It means allowing myself not to be in control of everything at all times. I think that’s the scariest part of all. I’m walking into the Unknown with no map, only trust.

Is this the “right” way to write?

I don’t know.

But I know it’s right for me.

A version of this, tailored to fit, has been cross-posted to Substack.
It shouldn’t have to be clarified, but this is the world we live in now: this article is written by a human.