Every morning, I sit in my bed, with my back leaned up against the wall,and two pillows cushioning my straight-ish posture, with my legs stretched out and a pillow under my knees. When I began my meditation practice here, about three weeks ago, after spending a weekend in my wonderful reset location of Byron Bay and then paying the $58 discounted year subscription of Headspace, I began my sitting on the ground, resting my bum on my thermarest pad, folded up in it’s second highest format, with my feet in towards my groin, and my knees resting on the ground, not cross legged. Just three days after I started my meditation routine, I injured my knee, and therefore that position was no longer an option.

I could have let this injury get in the way of me continuing to practice. I also could have used the excuse that my partner, and now roommate, is disruptive during my morning meditation period, because he needs to get ready for work, and therefore I need to do it when he is not around. But no, neither of those are legitimate excuses. These are not roadblocks, they are small obstacles. Now, when he wakes up to take a shower, I get up, fix up the bed, and get into my position. Placing my pink headphones into my ears, I choose a session that seems fitting for the morning, my intentions for the day, and either where I am struggling or where I would like to focus, and choose either the 10, 15 or 20 minute session.

Sometimes, my partner walks back in to change into his clothes while my eyes are still closed. Other times, my eyes open and my deep breath is released just before he reenters the room. Either way, I see this as an addition to my meditation, not an interruption. He is supportive of the time, and we both have a little routine that begins and ends with kisses and cuddling, but is strictly “me time” for each of us to start our days in the best way possible, to our unique needs, personalities and goals.

On that same day, my first “day off” (from volunteering) returning from Byron Bay, I started a new daily writing habit. Perfection on either of these goals (meditate for 20 minutes and write for 40 minutes) has not been as critical as previous challenges I have given myself, but I really have only missed one to three days each since I started. My writing practice has faced similar changes, during this recent period of a newfound routine, and even more so before it was started. Instead of complaining, or saying that these are roadblocks and therefore I cannot write here, I have turned them into part of the practice. Really, I see them now as part of my writing adventure.

Turns out, writing a book is a massive adventure!

It is navigating through a maze.

It is meditation.

It is…something else I have yet to discover.

After receiving feedback on two different 3000 word pieces from my writing teacher, by sharing Google Documents with him and accepting comments, I realized that in the writing process, even when we are writing non-fiction (ex. Memoir), we actually cannot see where we are going, and we do not even know where the end lies. We have a general idea of the direction we want to go in, and we know what it feels like when we are getting warmer, closer to the right path, versus cooler, getting totally lost and away from the meat of the story. But that’s just a general idea.

Writing a book is akin to navigating through a maze.

The start came naturally while in my writing class. We wrote down ideas of key stories we wanted to include in our books, then circled a few of the most compelling, then picked one to start writing, and use as the beginning of our book. Those first three chapters felt easy, natural, and right. I crossed the start line, I entered the maze, and it felt good, and exciting. I had written the first three chapters of my book. I took the first three turns in the maze.

Then, there was a huge obstacle. A tragedy occurred in my life, that both ignited my writing, and also completely distracted me from the maze I was in. I am not sure exactly where the metaphor goes here, but either I sat in that maze, trapped, or I hopped out of it, leaping into a new maze. Maybe, there was a maze inside the original maze. There is a story within the story. I only wanted to write about the new emotions and the new strange adventures I was observing. I could not get myself back into that maze to navigating to the next turn of my book.

I sat. I did. That’s what happened.

I sat there on the floor of my maze. I finished my writing challenge of writing every day for 50 days, and then I sat, only writing on special occasions – birthdays, death anniversaries, Mother’s Day, etc. From the moment I got the first phone call telling me he died, I did not write another word of my book. I did not even try.

Then, my decision to live out a dream that my best friend would not be able to live out, traveling to a country I love with the man I love, got me back on track. I had a change of scenery, more mental and emotional space to process all of the emotions. It was slow going at first. For two weeks, we slept in hostels, and a few backcountry huts. Then, for five weeks we lived out of a camper van, in between more backcountry huts.

I brought a tablet and a Bluetooth keyboard, but, even though I tested the tablet before I left the States, I quickly came to realize it was an absolute piece of shit. A writing piece that should have taken me 30 minutes, would take me an extra hour, just to get a document opened and saved. It created more tension than release, making me feel like I was writing shit, as well. I had a journal too, nothing fancy just your run of the mill composition book with college ruled lines, with my favorite blue color as the front cover. Simple, happy, familiar, cheap. This came with me into the backcountry, so I could still write. While there, I was pulled to write about the current adventure I was on, and I allowed myself to do that, rather than forcing myself back into the maze, where I could turn around one corner and fall into the throws of deep, intense and painful emotions. While remote in some of the most beautiful nature, creating unforgettable memories with the man I love, in the country that I was pulled away from in the very first pages of my book, I did not want to always go there. I wanted to be present. I wanted to be here.

Then, we moved to a ski field. The first few weeks we hopped between two different huts as our base to sleep in, before we got moved into staff housing, due to a few different perfectly aligned circumstances. Since we arrived on June 27th, I have spent just over a week total off the mountain, writing on only two or three of those days. Otherwise, I write here. I write, everywhere, here.

In the dining area of Lyndon Lodge. In the dining area of Palmer Lodge. On the deck of Palmer Lodge. In the lounge of the staff hut. In the office of the staff hut. Even in the dining area of Broken River Lodge. I have worked on my book in nearly every common area at this place, except for one. You know where the most productive place has been for me? Not sitting at a table. Not in open space with open air, with a coffee in my hand. Not on a computer. The best, most productive, spot for me where I produce the best writing – in my bed.

Right now, I am sitting here, in nearly the same exact position as I do during my morning meditation. My back is cushioned by two pillows, and my feet are straight ahead of me, legs outstretched. There is no pillow under my knees, though there is a large book on top of my knees. It’s a New Zealand atlas, decades old, about the size of a cookie sheet. It’s thick, hard bound, and long, creating the perfect flat surface, at just the perfect height for proper posture of my back, along with a surprisingly perfect bend in my elbows as I type away. It is the most comfortable position I have found. It’s the place where I can hide away, in my four walls, with two windows, full control over the level of heat and my level of clothing. Full control over the volume of my music, which music I listen to, and whether it’s coming out of a speaker or through ear buds. I get to stare straight out the window, as I have always known is my most productive positioning. Facing a wall leaves me to get stuck. Staring at a window keeps me going.

It took me a long time to figure this out – that my bed is my most productive space to write here. Besides waking up before 5am, or going to sleep after midnight, I could not figure out any other ways in order to remove all distractions. Before arriving here, I had day dreams of incredibly productive writing time, for hours on end, at a table, staring out window, totally alone, warm with coffee in hand, while others ski the hill and work. This day dream was just that – a fictional manifestation of a world that does not actually exist. I live with seven other people and there are always guests staying at one, or many, of the lodges. Every common area has someone in them, at nearly all times. I have had one evening in our staff living room, with absolutely no one around. It was glorious. I wrote one piece at Palmer Lodge (or day lodge) without anyone coming to sit next to me, or walk up and ask, “what are you working on?” If there are other people around in Lyndon Lodge, I put in the headphones, I face away from them, but it does not matter because there multiple loud voices or their choice to watch a movie will always drown out my thoughts.

I do not share these details to complain. Not at all! I absolutely adore this place and the community. I am providing these details to share what I gave attempted in order to create a writing space and routine in an unconventional space. Most probably think this is a crazy endeavor, adding more difficulty to an already difficult task. You may be right, but as I said earlier in this piece, I love adventure in all its forms. Battling the challenge of writing a book here makes me even more proud. I am proud to be navigating this maze in my own unique way, not following anyone else.

This little room is my space, and it is finally fucking working for me!

Every day I get more and more used to it and okay with it. Even just now, as I was sitting down, I realized that my knees always hurt after writing here from having the book laying on top of them while they are hyperextended. Lightbulb! Put a towel folded up in between my knees and the atlas. Now my knees feel amazing!

I can see you shaking your head side to side…

Some might think I am absolutely mad for attempting to write a book on a smallish Bluetooth keyboard, with an oversized IPad resting on it, sitting on a book, with a towel under it, with my knees under that, with my legs resting on the mattress. Who does that? If you are writing a book you have to have a nice desk and a good laptop. You have to at least go to a coffee shop or have a computer. You must do it at odd hours of the night, and make sure that absolutely no one is around. You have to tell people “no” when they want to spend time with you, sacrificing family time for writing time.

No, you don’t. Well, maybe you do, but that is not the only option. Be flexible.

Lately, I have found that if I take an afternoon nap (an option afforded to me because I chose to volunteer for three months in order to not worry about accommodation or food, and have more time and energy to write) then I am super pumped to write after dinner. After dinner is when all seven of my housemates, including whatever other volunteers or friends that are staying as guests for the night, are done for the day, and want to drink, play games and watch movies. I have had a group of 10 people right outside my bedroom door, but I disappear, close the door, and blast music through my pink earbuds, while I punch at my keyboard like I have been hypnotized my a word smythe demon.

Let’s get back to the maze. I am not sure how we got here. Damn maze.

Writing a book is like navigating through a maze because of this:

You write a piece, and think you have focused on the most important parts of the story. Then, someone else reads your work (i.e. a writing teacher) providing feedback. He/she wants to hear more about the one story you mentioned, but failed to elaborate on (ex. Your 10 year high school reunion that you crashed and ended up making out with your high school sweetheart on the same evening that you arrived back in the country unexpectedly after finding out your mom is sick and seeing her for the first time since you heard the news). Fully admitting to your editor that you skirted over that story out of laziness, in the next week (should have been next day) you write that story, in about 2000 to 3000 words. After diving in deep, you realize there is a whole other path from this story, some details that you need included in the book, and you realize that it’s taking you down a different corridor of the maze.

The first piece felt flat, because you were lazy, so you hit a dead end. As soon as you backtracked slightly, and took a different turn, you began zooming down the corridor, your confidence lifting. This story, ended up not being about a drunk night of surprises, but rather, about the importance and power of friendship.

Wow.

Then, you hit another dead end. Where do you go next? Turn around, and take a different turn. See where it takes you. What’s the worse that can happen? You just might hit another dead end, that will lead you to the next story. You never quite know where you are going, as I said. I had no idea that there were going to be strong details that came from that reunion story. What I thought would be focused around my ex, ended up putting a lense right over my friendship with one of my best friends. It took a microscopic look at the power of friendship during emotional pain and sadness. Without diving into that story, I would have to figure out some other way to bring that piece in, because it is incredibly important to my overall book.

This is why I need to continue to receive feedback from people. I need to have someone else looking at the maze from above and yelling directions because they see a turn I missed that they think I should go down. Their view is smaller, just focused on the story they read, rather than me with the heavy burden of navigating through the entire maze. They can help.

The other characteristic of writing a book I have come to learn is that it is exactly like meditation. Exactly.

I know, now you really think I have absolutely lost my marbles, but give me a moment to explain.

First of all, I have found that the exact same space, in the exact same spot, in nearly the exact same position has brought me the same success and productivity in my meditation as it has with my writing. That is how this thought came to light. Also, I use the same iPad.

Now, let me take you on a journey of writing, and see if it sounds familiar.

First, I get comfortable, I remove all other distractions. Sometimes I put headphones in, sometimes just speakers, but I nearly always have something making noise that will help keep me focused on my goals, and keep out distractions. Next, I open an app that is helping me to accomplish these goals. Next, I narrow my focus a bit more, by choosing a topic. Sometimes I choose a time allotment for this period of focus, sometimes, I just wing it and go until I am too tired or sore.

Here is where it gets really good.

Next, I do my best to reduce my thinking, and just let things flow through me. When I am writing, I want to type so fast that my fingers are going as fast as they can to stay up to speed with the thoughts in my head. I do not want to stop and I do not want to lose focus. I want to get lost in the rhythm, lost in the words, lost in the story, and remove the changes for second guessing to come into play. I try not to criticize or decide, while I am in it, if I am being successful, if I am writing well, getting deep, using intelligent and poetic words, I just try to get lost in it all.

The best feeling is when I get so caught up in it all that I kind of blackout. I lose track of time, and thoughts, and the words just flow, taking me into a place where the sentences I formulate are magical, poetic, and harsh as fuck. I put words together that I have never put together before, and I describe every day things in a way that we have all experienced but have never been able to articulate.

Eventually, I pause, bring my body back in the room, look around, and take a deep breath.

I am exhausted. Emotionally, physically. With writing, also mentally.

Yes there are a few differences, but do you see how similar they are? When you sit for a meditation practice, the goal is not to judge, and to just let your mind and body relax, while staying focused. You focus on your breath, you keep good posture, but your main goal is just to sink in deeply, so far that you are able to transport yourself to another time and space, without moving.

I have found the same thing with writing. I do not need to force my thoughts to go to a certain place, I just need to sit in a good position, in a good space, stay focused, but relaxed, and allow myself to go there, to dip deep into another time and space.

When I sit to meditate, I never know how it is going to go. Will I get bored or distracted? Will my thoughts run like wild? Will I fall asleep multiple times? Will my body start buzzing and vibrating, and I see that white light glowing brighter and stronger as it grows outside of my body?

When I sit to write, I never know how it is going to go. Will I get sidetracked in the story? Will the words that come out be boring and mundane? Will I hear the voices and music of people outside the room? Will my heart block me from going there, to the deepest darkest most painful places, completely? Will my fingers start buzzing and vibrating with movements as fast as possible in order to keep up with the magical sentences being formed in my head, causing me to feel as though I black out until the moment I take a deep breath, shake out my wrists, and look up from my screen?

There is no judging. If it is not a sit that feels incredibly amazing and successful, we should not put ourselves down, because we still sat. If the body didn’t float happily, if the thoughts did not melt, or if the words did not flow, that is okay, because we tried, and we know that there is tomorrow, and the next day and the next day. If we show up, if we sit, and if we let our thoughts flow freely, sometimes, and more often the more we practice, we will find ourselves in that place that feels otherworldly, that is nearly impossible to describe, but if you have been there before you know exactly what I am talking about.

Now that I have figured out these two things about writing a book, I have a lot less pressure on myself. Each day, I have no idea what is going to happen and what I am going to write about. What I write about today might just leave a breadcrumb for another story that I am supposed to tell, forcing me to turn away from one dead end and taking a turn down a different path. If I show up, sit, and let the words flow through my fingertips, without judging, expecting, wanting, or forcing, in the right environment, with the right open, flexible and focused mindset, the sentences that are formed might be the kind that cause my mind to black out and my heart to take over my body, instead.