Structure—from bones to days to writing

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A couple of years ago I was diagnosed with osteoporosis, a disorder in which the bones become increasingly porous and brittle. My skeletal structure is more subject to breakage than others who don’t have this condition. A small seashell I keep on the windowsill next to my kitchen writing table reminds me of my “lacy” bones, and to take good care of my physical architecture—take the medication, do weight-bearing exercises, use caution with certain yoga poses.

As for structuring my days, one of the greatest takeaways I got from participating in Creative Mastermind groups with Dan Blank, is the idea of “time-blocking.” Time blocking is how I can structure the parts of my day when I don’t have a regularly scheduled obligation. If I want to work on a new project—block out the time, if I want to write a blog—block out the time. Design a new workshop, prepare a class, study a book—block out the time. Time blocking works. Especially if you do it! (I’m still working on this one, Dan.) (PS Dan is starting a new group July 1. Go here to find out more.)

But the structure I’ve been most concerned with lately is the structure of my memoir.

The outside structure—the container that holds the story has been in place all along. Years ago I sold most everything, bought an around-the-world airline ticket and set off on a year-long solo journey. The journey itself, where I went, the places I traveled, is the outside structure. It’s the inside story—the theme of the thing I’ve been struggling with. Over the months of revising, the theme has morphed from one idea to another to another, changing about as often as I changed locations during my travels. Is it a spiritual quest story? A grief story about losing my husband? A search for Home? The story of a woman coming home to herself? I was as lost in the writing as I often had been during the actual journey.

But as anyone can tell you, unless you have a structure, your story—the thing you came to say—can wander from event to scene to chapter aimlessly without ever getting to the point. And if the writer doesn’t know where she’s going, imagine how the reader will feel. Except there probably won’t be any readers because the story without some kind of structure isn’t going to find an audience.

During a critique session, a member of my writing group mentioned The Hero’s Journey, and asked if I was following that structure for my story. In the traditional hero’s journey, the hero goes on a journey and must confront challenges and obstacles in his quest. After the hero battles and wins the ultimate challenge, he returns home transformed.

“Um, no,” I told my writing pal. “That’s not the story I’m telling.”

Writing about our exchange in my journal the next morning, something told me to go back to a book I had read many years ago—The Heroine’s Journey, by Maureen Murdock. (I love how these intuitive thoughts come during a journaling session.)

Aha! I said, after re-reading the book, I believe this might be the structure for my story.

Next post: Not quite a heroine, but on the journey.

10 thoughts on “Structure—from bones to days to writing”

  1. I agree with you! I know if I didn’t time block I’d be so distracted that I wouldn’t ever get anything done. Thanks for this.

  2. Many thanks for sharing your thoughts Judy. I do hope your health improves….

    ‘Time blocking’ seems an interesting idea and I will explore it further……I have always thought that in mindful moments of paying attention to whatever I was undertaking, there was a portal opening up in me, a special, relaxed calming space where I ‘ left behind ‘ my normal, busy, distracted self and surrendered, almost imperceptibly, to the dynamics of the present moment. Often this would happen when I was gardening. I would lose all track of time, all track of my own existence and be ‘carried away,’ if only monetarily, to another realm of being. Intense writing – where I’m so engaged in the process of creativity, so preoccupied with arranging the right words on the page can also do it for me……
    I’m currently reading James Hollis, a Jungian analyst, who, for me, write so beautifully and truthfully:

    “ ….We serve life when we step forth and begin to take that responsibility, that accountability and choose a life that makes sense to us. The choice is ours, and if we are not exercising that choice, someone else is choosing for us – if not the splintered personalities of complexes then the persevering voices of our ancestors, or the noisy din of our cultural tom toms.”

    You were very brave Judy to have undertaken a year long trip around the world – very inspiring….
    Look after yourself
    Michael

    • Thank you for this, Michael. I especially love the Hollis quote about the “noisy din of our cultural tom toms.” So many of us in the US are distracted from the work we would do as we deal with all the political noise these days… the drumming of the election that is so far away, but so present already, so insistent and LOUD!

      I don’t garden, but I did talk to the spider plant in my kitchen window this morning as I wrote in my journal, saying thank you. I do know that feeling of losing self to the writing and every time I take time away to go there, believe that it could happen again. Sometimes it does. I am always surprised, and grateful.

      on and on,
      Judy

  3. Hi Judy,

    Yes process takes time, even Master Judy says so along with my local friend the Master Artist. That’s been a huge thorn my entire life so far, that ugly stupid thorn of impatience. Impatience blocks out any form of gentle thought and hinders growth. Yet I have so many patient people around me, you would think I’d pick up on that.

    Looking forward to seeing your memoir.

    Ciao,
    Linda

  4. Hi Judy,
    Good to hear from you again.
    I keep reading your posts and hoping they
    will inspire me to write again!
    Arlene Kosakoff

    • Hi Arlene, I was told long ago that if I make a date with myself and set myself down at my desk (or table, or in a comfy chair or hammock) with my notebook, then inspiration will know where to find me. She’s a tricky one, that inspiration, hiding out and ducking for cover every time we pursue her. Just this morning I read a quote from Thomas Lynch in The Mindful Writer by Dinty W. Moore: “For me, writing starts with a line, or some imagination, or some notion, and I just go with it as far as I can. And you know how this works, this idea that you sort of set yourself afloat on the language. And you think, I’ll see how far it can take me before this little raft I’ve cobbled together falls apart and everybody understands that I’m really just a fraud, or drowning–whichever comes first.”

      That’s how I feel many mornings…setting off in my wobbly raft, going down some river I don’t know where. I wish for you, a raft.

      Thanks always for stopping by
      Judy

  5. Well done. Loved this. It’s not easy but it’s good writing. Life’s like that.

    • Hiya Zakgirl.
      thanks for commenting. You being a farmer know the process takes time and we just keep hoeing our rows, right? Thank so much for your encouragement.
      best,
      Judy

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