Reader,
As many of you have probably heard me mention recently, today marks Day 1 of my two-month fall residency in Whistler, BC. I’ve been sharing with the writers I’m close to just how unexpectedly nerve-wracking this transition has been for me. For the most part, it’s the little things: not having my usual comforts (I’m very particular about the items I use daily), missing my family and my dog, Chester, not having a car to get around (though, on the bright side, it's bike-able and walkable here, so why not use that as an opportunity to get in shape, right?) Of course, there’s also the pressure of meeting new people and reading their work (but hey, I’ve been doing that for 12 years now!)
Here’s the thing I want to remind all you creatives: just because you have experience, and you’ve challenged yourself again and again, it doesn’t make you immune to self-doubt or nerves.
With every new environment, project, collaboration, comes the opportunity to feel new at something, again.
The good news is that these feelings tend to pass quickly. Over the years, I’ve tracked how these nerves no longer linger forever. Instead of trying to figure out exactly what’s causing them (because, let’s face it, it’s often a mix of things beyond my control, and I didn’t want to waste energy on that), I focused on what I could do to ease my nerves. What comforts could I bring with me? How could I engage with creative activities that felt grounding?
As I packed the last of my things, I tossed my copy of Junie into one of my baskets and loaded up the car. Even with all the prep, though, I was still nervous.
So, I asked myself: What creative activities could help calm me down? I glanced over at my copy of Junie sitting in the seat beside me, and it hit me—Let Junie be my guide! I could take her with me, get reacquainted with her. I could reread the novel, make notes in the margins. What has changed? What still feels true to my voice and style? It would be an opportunity to reflect on how I’ve grown, my writing process, and gather material for panels and talks. This was a chance to reconnect with my own work, especially with the books I hadn’t engaged with in years.
The moment this idea came to me, I noticed how my body responded: a gentle calm, like ripples lapping at the shore. I immediately messaged two of my writer friends to share the idea. It’s part of the process, being a writer means you look, you assess, you troubleshoot, and you share.
I spend a lot of time thinking about and discussing external guides, books I love, writers I admire, but this time, I was focused on examining my own work through a magnifying glass (another idea inspired by a writer friend who shared how she plans to use a magnifying glass as a symbol for her lens this season). The conversations we have with others, whether with friends, mentors, or ourselves, are powerful. They shape how we show up.
As I was sat there in the car, I reread the first paragraph of Junie and it felt like the my main character was sending me a message, a reminder right when I needed it. That the start of a new season is an opportunity to start fresh. It’s a gift we can all give ourselves.
This journey may seem linear from the outside, but to me, it’s more of a zigzag where we cross over our own footsteps time and time again.
Reflect + Rewrite
This Week's Reflection Question: What happened the last time you felt nervous about a new project, place, or environment?
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.
