When we work only on the writing, we do ourselves a disservice.
Being a working writer today means looking at everything, not just the page. The self, the project, the ecosystem. We have to zoom out, take in the bigger picture, and ask both where we are and where we want to go, and make decisions accordingly.
But somewhere along the way, many of us tossed all that out the window. I did too, but not anymore.
Under my desk there’s a small wicker basket filled with the tools I bring into sessions with writers. Inside you’ll find a highlighted and annotated copy of Self-Awareness by The School of Life, a dog-eared copy of All About Love by bell hooks (and when I say dog-eared, I ain't kidding!), card decks I use for creative exploration, and a few objects that carry emotional meaning for me. Every time I pull that basket out, I am reminded that I have options. There is always more than one way in.
One of my favourite parts of working with writers is listening deeply to what they want from their writing life (mainly because I know how rarely they are asked this, which is why it’s often such a hard question to answer). I listen for tone shifts, for emotional waves in their voices, for silence (which I’ve learned is a very powerful space for self-awareness … it’s only awkward if you don’t know how to work with it). Those moments tell me when to lean in and say, let’s try something.
The self work is intimate, and it is never ending. Write that down! ha!
I see now that I have been preparing for this since I was a little, curious, creative girl who couldn't help but dig deep. It is slow work, but it is also the foundation. I want to work with the creative thinkers who know this, who commit to the self work in their own ways and in community with others.
Dearest creatives: We are not here for everyone.
We spend way too much time inside other people’s definitions. The self work often starts with getting clear about how you define things. In All About Love, bell hooks says “Definitions are vital starting points for the imagination. What we cannot imagine cannot come into being. A good definition marks our starting point and lets us know where we want to end up.”
Where do you want to end up?
Then comes the project, the manuscript, the writing itself. When the self is clear and strong, the project has something to rest on. That is when we can chip away at it with more ease and focus.
I have written the books I needed to write (so far), the ones that made sense for me in a particular season of my life. Not because they fit a fleeting market trend or because I had an attractive platform built on follower counts, but because those books woke up hidden parts of me. Each one helped me show up in the world as myself and, little by little, step into the work I was meant to do. It helped me find my people and get very, very clear about who I wanted to be in front of, because I love the fact that I am not for everyone. I wouldn’t want to be! I learned to value that intentional work in the same way I value everything else in my life. Slow work. Steady work. And it was not comfortable work, I’ll tell you that!
Early on, we are told to say yes to everything. Yes to not being paid, yes to events that drain us, yes for the sake of exposure. But eventually we have to pause and ask, exposure to who. Who are these people, and do I even want to be in front of them? Numbers matter, sure, but they are not the whole picture. Writing is about a very particular feeling, and there are many ways to arrive there. Once you realize that, you start making decisions differently, still with strategy but with more alignment to who you are and why you write.
And I want to be clear about something. For some of us, a more narrow, structured, traditional path is exactly what we want, and that is completely valid. I am not here to convince anyone otherwise. What I am here to share is that there are also other ways of doing things.
One of the biggest privileges we have is the ability to choose. That power of choice is a kind of freedom in itself, and it matters.
I wrote through times of personal, emotional hardship that I am still recovering from. What got me through was the consistent self work, the ability to notice my patterns, to shift how I responded to stress, to say no to spaces I did not want to be in (even when people formed opinions and assumptions of my no). Saying no came with loss, but the aligned relationships I have gained since have been worth it many times over. The price of the ticket has been recovered and then some.
And then there is the ecosystem. This goes far beyond the narrow idea of a platform (a word that makes so many of us itch). The ecosystem includes your collaborations, your day job, your family, your values, your boundaries, your language, your desires strengths, limitations, priorities and more. Your ecosystem is the wider creative life that holds everything together. It takes time, and it is slower than what the industry often asks of us, but a writer who is healthier, clearer, and steadier will always write more books in the long run. In fact one of my incredible writers wrote about how working on her ecosystem creating a feeling she hadn’t yet experienced with writing, and you can read Shoshana’s post here.
The self, the project, the ecosystem.
This is the work I have been walking toward for the last ten years.
When I pull that wicker basket out from under my desk, I feel at home. I feel strong enough to let the naysayers walk away, confident enough to name what I value and follow that, and clear enough to believe this will reshape writing, publishing, and the lives of those who are ready to step into it.
I was invited to share a very short introduction to this ecosystem work, and you can RSVP if you want to check it out later this week. If you feel drawn to dive deeper into how the self, the project, and the ecosystem weave together, you can also explore more about this in the studio
Big things are coming and I truly hope you’ll trust me enough to stick around.
Reflect + Rewrite
This Week's Reflection Question: When you think about your creative life right now, which part feels most in need of your attention, the self, the project, or the ecosystem?
After answering the reflection question, revisit what you wrote.
Is there a single line—just one—that surprised you?
Maybe it stirred something. Maybe it made you pause.
Copy that line out. Sit with it.
As always, if you feel called, I’d love to see it. Hit reply and share it with me.
See you next week! If this letter moved you in some way, please forward it to a friend.
with love, Chelene
Founder, Breathing Space Creative
Want to explore more of my work? I offer bespoke writing mentorships, creative support calls, and free creative resources through my studio. But for now, just take what you need. I’ll be here.
