Practice Your Craft

“Ring the bell, close the book, quench the candle.”

-Sidney Redlitch in Bell, Book and Candle, 1958.

We all have them, rituals. We perform them every day without even noticing we’re doing it. Upon rising, the first things we do in the morning, stand up, go to the bathroom, brush your teeth, pour the magic caffeinated elixir into your mug. Then, some are more involved. Could be you take 5 deep breaths before you get up or write in a notebook to start each day. Or at lunch, or at night. Maybe you even had a meditation teacher or a mentor suggest some things you could do when you are stressed or have a creative block, like setting intentions. Or maybe you found advice in Cosmo on how to live a well-crafted life. Rituals, intentions, manifesting—all can be found in the glossy pages of your favorite magazine. But certainly, it has nothing to do with witchcraft. Does it? C’mon. The word ‘craft’ is right there.

When I was in grad school, I found out you could get 10 free counseling sessions with a therapist on campus. One day during a phone call home, I relayed this information to my mother. Her response was, “Free therapy?? Take it!” And, I did. It wasn’t the first time in my life I’d sought out an analyst. (I love old movies from the 60’s where everybody is in analysis.) And, it wouldn’t be the last. Today, I prefer to think of them as unbiased life coaches. Or a ‘get your shit together’ sounding board.

But this time was different. I was in my last semester, writing my thesis. Yes, dancers write. I will never, ever forget talking about comps and my thesis and someone asking me, “Dancers write?” Thinking back, perhaps it wasn’t a slight, but it sure as hell felt like it then. It was a particularly dark time for me. One of my roommates had been killed in a plane crash and I was having trouble getting started on my work and getting started with anything for that matter. My therapist gave me great advice. “Create a ritual.” And I did. Every time I sat down to write, I’d light a candle and put on Patsy Cline, signaling to myself, ‘it’s time to write.’ And it worked. It created an atmosphere, a sense memory. I still do this, whether it be particular music to go with a world I’m building where my character lives or a simple thing like sharpening three pencils, even when I’m typing on my laptop. It’s the act, the intention.

In Writing Down the Bones, Natalie Goldberg has this to say from the chapter, Writing as a Practice:

“This is the practice school of writing. Like running, the more you do it, the better you get at it. Some days you don’t want to run and you resist every step of the three miles, but you do it anyway. You don’t wait for inspiration and a deep desire to run. You just do it. When you come to the end, you never want to stop. And you stop, hungry for the next time.”

It’s just like that! When you want to get better at something you practice. But sometimes we need a nudge. Just like playing scales when practicing an instrument, rolling out your yoga mat, or placing one hand on the barre to begin plies—the scene is set. A special place, music you love, a favorite pen or journal, writers need these tools to hone their craft. Ring the bell, light the candle and open the book. Tell yourself it’s time to write.

“Always throw spilled salt over your left shoulder. Keep rosemary by your garden gate. Add pepper to your mashed potatoes. Plant roses and lavender, for luck. Fall in love whenever you can.”-Sally Owens in Practical Magic, 1998.

Book recommendation:

Writing Down the Bones by Natalie Goldberg

My guilty pleasure:

During quarantine, I discovered I liked embroidery. Of course, I search and search for patterns that are spooky or lean towards folk lore. It’s something I enjoy in the darker months while sitting in front of a fire. That time of year can’t come too soon for me.

Batty forever,

Greta