The Priceless Lesson Learned From Writing Life by the Cup
Dear Reader,
I learned dozens of very valuable lessons by writing Life by the Cup, but none were as powerful as the lesson of surrender. I was led on a journey of discovery through the act of sitting each day to write, and if you have a desire to write a book like 80% of the US population, read on.
I’d wanted to write a book since I was six. I was never able to articulate why exactly, except that I had a burning desire to tell stories, to take poetic journeys in the world of my imagination and to forge a pathway for my reader to explore a new, nuanced, transformational world. I wrote a book about my Ukrainian Gypsy grandmother, but never got past the second draft when I found out I was pregnant with Sage, and needed to provide for him, eventually creating a company to support us. I tinkered with words throughout my career at the tea company, but never put them in the form of a cohesive creative piece since I was too busy writing business plans and being a single mom juggling baby and business. Creative writing felt indulgent, like a reward I could have only after achieving the endless list of financial milestones.
At the tea company, I indulged in writing copy for the packaging, composed elaborate sales brochure copy, stole away to my office to write humorous letters to potential customers, spent hours crafting press releases, and honed investor presentations to raise capital. Looking back, I was developing my creative craft through my very pragmatic tea-for-grocery-store business. And while the idea of writing a full length, creative project persisted, somehow, I thought it would be selfish to take the time from “working” to write anything more than the needed materials for the business. Deep down, I couldn’t think of a soul who would want to read what I had to say. I doubted my skill. I believed that writing was a hobby but not a career. I kept a daily journal instead of reaching for my dream, but my heart kept leading me back to the idea of a book. The persistence of this dream wore me down and I found my fear and resistance no match for it.
As soon as we hired a CEO for the tea company, I began to write The Modern Gypsy’s Guide to Life, a book about the Gypsy culture and what we as modern women can learn from it. I wrote and wrote and wrote. Covering thousands of pages with letters, words, ideas, and yet it never formed into book, instead, I ended up writing stories of my experiences in the global tea market. The book had gotten away from me. It had it’s own plan. Although I felt the Gypsy book was more interesting than my own experience, I found myself leaning into my memories more and more. I never wanted to write a memoir so I denied these stories, cutting them from the drafts, and yet the exotic flavors, stunning landscapes and soulful tea people kept ending up on the page. I wrestled the ideas back to the Gypsy book outline and yet what was forming was a tea book. A memoir!? I landed one of the top literary agents in the world and sent her draft after draft of this messy Gypsy meets tea entrepreneur book, but none of it was quite right. She stopped responding to my emails and I felt like a loser for a little while.
So, I let it all go. I cut out the Gypsy aspects of the book and just started to write stories of my life, the ones that appeared were the ones I honored. I never thought they were all that interesting until I began reading them to my friends and they wanted more, they saw their own lives in the stories of mine. I decided to self-publish, let go of the agent (admittedly, she had let me go already), and I gave up the idea that I had to write the Gypsy book since the tea book was pushing its way onto the page. I was exhausted by the process and surrendered to what was forming on the page. It was much different than business, where you write a plan and do your best to follow it. Writing was proving to be an unruly little beast of a process, it was teaching me that I wasn’t in control, damn!
From the act of writing daily, the new book emerged, the one whose lovely cover is featured on this blog–Life by the Cup. Through writing, the format of the chapters to be in “cup” form emerged. I became an explorer instead of a dictator as each day led to more clues of the book’s highest good, these clues sparkled and I chased them for hours until sentences formed into cohesive, transformative vignettes. My memories were filled with emotional land mines, but as I tripped each one, I survived and healed.
My heart was raw as I wrote about Sage’s past health issues, as much as I didn’t want to relive the trauma and revisit his unspeakable pain, I was forced to. I exposed my mistakes, worries and greatest fears on the page, and through that I triumphed over them. Writing as an act of surrender heals us. Those first drafts were cathartic for me, but selfish in many ways. As I was healing on the page, I realized it wasn’t for anyone but me. I had to move through my pain to become a teacher of it. Draft after draft, I cried, remembering. When the tears stopped, it was time to do another rewrite, and finally I was able to use the past as a light for others’ journeys. I shifted from writing for me, to writing for a reader– which was another form of surrender. As tempting as it was to tuck the draft away and hide behind my business instead, I was driven to complete the mission. Because I could see other books wanting to be written just past this one. I was in an orchard of ripened fruit, all of the books to be written were before me like a spring harvest and I knew that if I couldn’t pick and complete one, I wouldn’t complete any.
One day, when I thought the book would never make the finish line, I called Deb Norton and begged for her help. She became the midwife of each story and helped me speak to the readers I hoped to serve. I hired a second editor and we copyedited the whole manuscript and signed up on Amazon’s Createspace to self publish. I set a hard deadline of a Friday one month from then and each morning showed up in my writing studio (yurt) with sweaty palms. Exposing my inner soul to the public terrified me. There are two forms of writing, one for private self reflection and one for public self expression. Both are transformative, but one forces you to publish and make your vulnerable, tender, frightened self known. My fears wouldn’t be beat if I hid behind the, it was non-negotiable, I would click the self publish button and move into the fear, knowing the only way to get over it is to move through it.
A couple of days before I would click the button, an editor from Atria (Simon and Schuster) called and in her sweet Australian accent said my book had made her laugh and cry, and she could see it in a beautifully designed hardcover in stores all over the nation. I was stunned. I paced the parking lot outside of my favorite Mexican eatery in Ojai and found myself pirouetting off of the curbs, spinning on a tip toe and jumping around silently as I tried to act calm through the call. Again, this wasn’t what I had planned, but I was getting better at moving with the muse rather than trying to get her to predict next year’s P&L. I surrendered again and spent almost a year in rewrites, design and production on the book that will be out soon. The lesson again as it gets ready to go out into the world this June will be, you guessed it, surrender.
And now you have the secret. Surrender to your writing, your dream, your business, whatever your heart drives you to do. Remember, my friend, the best laid plans are those you are willing to release.
With Love,
Zhena
