All writers are faced at some point with feelings of self-consciousness and self-doubt about their work. In this invaluable guide, Laraine Herring offers advice to writers who want to become more comfortable with their writing, face their inhibitions, and gain the confidence to release their true voice. Utilizing the breath, a vigorous movement practice designed to break up stagnation with the body and the mind, and writing exercises aimed both at self-exploration and developing works-in-progress, Herring offers a clear path to writing through illusion. Learn how to remove obstacles in your writing and develop techniques to help you relax into your own voice; discover ways to enter into a compassionate, non-judgmental relationship with yourself so that you can write safely and authentically from a place of absolute vulnerability; and discover the interconnectedness of your personal writing process and the community as a whole. The Writing Warrior will not only help you find ways to develop your writing, but also ways to develop yourself.
Laraine Herring holds an MFA in creative writing and an MA in counseling psychology. Her short stories, poems, and essays have appeared in national and local publications. Her fiction has won the Barbara Deming Award for Women and her nonfiction work has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize. She currently directs the creative writing program at Yavapai College in Prescott, Arizona. She is a member of the Author’s Guild and the American Association of University Professors, and she volunteers with Hospice Family Care.
I’m a big fan of books on the craft of writing that talk about the creative side of things. I’ve been struggling lately with not having a strong enough sense of safety and comfort in my own mind, and as a consequence, not bringing myself to write. It’s a vicious cycle, because writing can help soothe the demons of depression and the feeling of being out of control of things. I read some articles recently on a particular emotional struggle that defined my childhood. And it was so validating, to know that I wasn’t making it all up. I can feel really crazy sometimes, because a lifetime of gaslighting does a great job of really crystalizing that impulse to constantly question yourself. What having a brain that is recovering from trauma means is that creativity can be a really vulnerable state to enter. Some people use their art as a way to cope with their neuroatypical setup. Some people, like myself, can only really access their art when there’s a sense of safety and comfort. It’s so easy to shut everything down, to refuse to be vulnerable because it might hurt too much. Vulnerability is terrifying. And art—good art, anyway—requires vulnerability. And I don’t lean into it as easily as some. It’s so rare that I feel truly safe. It’s rare that I’m not trying to control my environment, trying to think of every possible negative eventuality and doing all the prep that can prevent things from going wrong. Art is unpredictable, I think. I write an outline and I have big story structure points I want to get to, but then my characters say “Oh hey, I think this scene should happen in the park instead,” or, “There’s something over there that I want to examine let’s shift directions a bit…” There isn’t much that I’m in control of, and that’s a really beautiful thing, when it’s flowing and I’m learning things about these characters as I go, and fleshing out the world. It’s powerful. But I don’t always feel safe enough to tap into that power. Sometimes I worry that it would burn me up. It’s silly that so many people in my life have told me that I’m “too much.” Even I get scared by the depths of my emotions. So I can understand why they might be threatening to others. This book, by Laraine Herring, is written for the type of artist that I am. It isn’t about how to structure a plot, it isn’t about the best methods of characterization, it isn’t about how literary or contemporary your writing should be. It’s all about nurturing the writer, the artist, that you are. There’s this amazingly human vessel involved in the creative process. And if we don’t care for ourselves right, there won’t be anything of ourselves to pour into the story.
I read through this entire book without performing any of the exercises, absorbing the anecdotes and enjoying Herring’s writing style. She’s concise, but also delightfully meandering, including stories from her own life that illustrate some of her points. The writing practice she suggests is focused on breathing, then shaking your body physically, then sitting down to write. I’ll admit that I haven’t tried it yet. It’s been tough lately to just handle my normal adulting responsibilities, of which writing is not one. I’m intrigued by this idea, though. I’m 100% in favor of anything that brings our bodies into greater contact with our minds. I’ll have to come back and edit this review when I’ve given her suggestions a try. Regardless, I’m glad I read this book, and glad there are people out there who acknowledge that taking care of the writer, as a flawed and imperfect and constantly healing human, is a difficult process, that deserves intentionality and perseverence.
Not great. This book can be summed up in the following question: "Have you ever tried meditating... and then writing?" It talks a lot about vulnerability and letting things go, but doesn't actually talk practically about writing all that often. Characters in your head, letting your instincts guide you, breathing exercises, all that— but not much else. Try emptying your mind and focusing on your breathing... and then try writing! That's the book in a nutshell. If I had known that, I probably wouldn't have read it.
My favorite quote: "Taking commas in or out is simply rearranging ships on the ocean of story." Thanks, Laraine for sharing bits of wisdom and encouragement for the dark hours.
Not only is this another excellent, motivational, inspirational book by Herring, but, like Writing Begins with the Breath, it is written with compassion and flair.
An excellent book not only writing craft but also on living the life of a writer. Laraine focuses largely on process over product - how you write as opposed to what you write. Her voice is relatable and kind, and her approach is encouraging. Always write fiction? Maybe try some poetry. Always write linearly? Try something nonlinear. Let the writing tell you what it wants to be and then follow with an open mind and an open heart. This book is like one long pep talk from a friend. I've marked several pages with sticky tabs and underlined even more sentences and paragraphs. I will be returning to this book again and again.
The latest book I read for my MFA program; overall, I liked the author's easy writing style. However, if you have a background in psychology and/or have already published, you may not find too much that is new to you. In addition, as others have noted, the book is more self-help and memoir than writing guide. This book would likely work great for someone with no psychology background and/or who is at the beginning of their writing path.
I think that this is my favorite book on writing/creating since reading The Artist's Way. The essays are often more thought-provoking than prescriptive, but the exercises and meditation practice have helped me immensely, and not just with my writing.
The Writing Warrior practice of breathing, shaking, and writing described in this book helped me better focus my energy and attention on the task of getting words on the page. However, the book is really a memoir smartly marketed as a writing guide. The Writing Warrior practice was a great takeaway, but the rest of the book felt like filler that only served the purpose of increasing the word count.
This is a beautifully-written, process-oriented look at what it takes to establish a writing practice. The book is divided into five stages along the writing journey, and each stage is filled with short essays and some exercises to develop your relationship with yourself and your writing.
B This would be great for beginning writers or even in an MFA program. Unfortunately, many of the ideas I have already heard before and it came across to me as self-help-y vs helpful.
p.10 – Anyone can fall in love. Not just anyone can stay in love. The Writing Warrior’s path is about staying in love. The Writing Warrior’s path is about ruthless self-study. The Writing Warrior gazes in the mirror and notices, without judgment, what she sees. She is also aware that she cannot see it all. The Writing Warrior acknowledges that he sees the world through lenses, and he knows each lens creates a distortion. He has the courage to remove the lenses as he becomes aware of them, and he also has the courage to know when he still needs a lens. The Writing Warrior knows his time on earth in finite and wants to live it fully. He knows he has essays to write, stories to share, poems to create, and he knows it is his charge to write them. She knows that writing is sacred, that it carries great power, and that it takes work. She knows that though the stories and poems appear as gifts, they require her diligence, her patience, and her discipline to realize their full potential. He must be alert. She must be faithful.
15 – Illusion of Publication, Success, and Fame
p.93 – Publishing is a business. Perhaps this is one of the hardest things for new writers to accept. The publishing world isn’t waiting to nurture your career. It isn’t waiting to take a chance on you. It’s a business, and, for good or bad, it operates on a business model; namely, more money should come in than goes out. If you can make money for them, great. If your work doesn’t make money, then thanks, but no thanks. I’m not going to tell you this doesn’t suck, but I am going to tell you that you need to get over yourself and any sense of entitlement you might feel because you’re the literary genius the world has been waiting for. No one’s waiting. So what do you do? It’s similar to the Buddhist question: what do you do when no one’s watching? What do you write, how often do you write, how much do you push yourself with your craft if no one is waiting for your manuscript?
p.95 – Your responsibility is to your writing. Write what is within you to write and release the rest. Send them out. When they get rejected, send them out again. Keep in this flow, and you’ll be better able to remember that you are a writer, and that you are doing what you love and what is burning in your heart to do. There is great joy in that, and, believe it or not, there can be publication in that. There can be fame. But as quickly as those arrive, they vanish, and you’ll find yourself chasing the illusive next greatest thing. It’s a cycle you’ll never find your way out of until you stop chasing.
21 – Self- Study
p.138 – “Men can starve from a lack of self-realization as much as they can from a lack of bread.” (Richard Wright)
24 – Stories We Tell Ourselves
p.160 – One function of literature is to help illuminate the dark and light places within us. But there’s another function too. Literature can help us release the stories that don’t serve us anymore, and writing will transform you, if you’re enough of a warrior to let it.
26 – Intuition
p.170 – Practicing self-observation without judgment helps us to see more authentically what is in front of us. The more old patterns, beliefs, and stories we shed, the more space we have to hear our inner voices. You’d be surprised how clear and decisive intuition is when it has room to speak. Journaling is a wonderful tool for cultivating our relationship with intuition.
28 – Alchemy
p.184 – Voices and places are often the catalysts for my stories. I’ll hear a line or two, or even a sound of someone’s voice. Perhaps I’ll see a house and a landscape. It’s no coincidence that my two strongest writing gifts are dialogue and setting. Pay attention to your own inner wisdom, pay attention to how writing shows up for you. Do you hear a voice or see a scene? Does an idea that needs to be explored present itself? When you’re aware of your inner voice, you’ll hear it more often. When you’re aware of how your stories come to you, you’ll recognize them more quickly.
31 – Writing is Not Like Making a Peanut Butter and Jelly Sandwich
p.194 – “Every sentence has a truth waiting at the end of it, and the writer learns how to know it when he finally gets there.” (Don DeLillo)
Every single time you sit down to write – a story, a poem, an essay, a novel – it will be a brand-new experience. No formula works. They mystery that solved your precious story doesn’t speak the same language as your current story. The key that unlocked the sonnet of yesterday won’t work today. Accept that. Don’t resist it. Writing never works the same way twice. You can view this as exciting or frustrating. Or, you can accept it as what it is. The writing process. Writing is not like making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. All the ingredients are not waiting for you in the cupboard. You – armed with skill and the memory of successful past peanut butter and jelly-making performances, and knowing that, barring the absence of a key ingredient, like say, peanut butter or bread, you’ll be able to deliver a delicious sandwich, a sandwich just as delicious as the one you made yesterday, or last week, or when you were twelve – feel success as peanut-butter-and-jelly-sandwich-maker extraordinaire. Writing is not in any way like this. The longer you believe that it is, the longer you will struggle needlessly.
p.196 – Stop. Breathe. Pick up your pen. Raise your fingers above your keyboard. Just start already. The world is hungry for what only you can create.
33 – The Beginning is Not the Beginning
p.199 – “One should be able to return to the first sentence of a novel and find the resonance of the entire work.” (Gloria Naylor)
40 – The Mysteries of Fiction
p.225 – “The pages are still blank, but there is a miraculous feeling of the words being there, written in invisible ink and clamoring to become visible.” (Vladimir Nabokov)
41 – Tools
p.232 – Twyla Tharp: “Without passion, all the skill in the world won’t lift you above craft. Without skill, all the passion in the world will leave you eager but floundering.” Respect that your work is craft. Understand that a hammer is not the only tool in the world, nor is it the tool that will do everything you need.
44 – Who Hears You First?
p.238 – “Substitute “damn” every time you’re inclined to write “very;” your editor will delete it and the writing will be just as it should be.” (Mark Twain)
45 – Loneliness
p.242 – I don’t feel lonely when I’m working. I feel the loneliness when I am avoiding working, when I’m distracting myself from the story or essay. When I am distracted, I’ve let my mind move in and take over. When I’m in the flow of the story, there’s no room for distraction.
46 – Betrayals
p.243 – So here’s the good news. You can’t betray what you don’t care about. Here’s the not-so-good news. You only betray the ones you love. This betrayal is going to happen in your relationship with your writing. At least once. Probably more than once because the first few times you’re not going to realize what it is. You’re going to call it something else, like writer’s block, or busy-ness, or family obligations. You might call it laziness, or falling in love, or a change in priorities. But what’s happened is that you’ve betrayed your writing in some way. Here’s more good news. Writing is very forgiving when you step up to the plate and make amends. However, writing is very vengeful when you don’t acknowledge what has happened.