Dear Michael and Steve,

Through this process of writing every day, something deeply buried has awoken inside of me. This creative force that had been cat-napping in the closet of my mind these past few years. 

It is finally a pure energy, detached from all of the extra trimmings that I used to clothe it with. In the past, my creativity was bedazzled with pressure like it has to be perfect, or will this get published?  Such heavy accessories to add on to this light and willowy slip of a garment. 

Or, I would cover up this thin wisp of creativity with a down jacket and snow boots, making it overly clunky and cumbersome with my insecure thoughts that I’m not a good writer, or who am I to say this thing? 

Now, it’s free. This idea of creativity.

It is champagne-colored silk that shifts and transforms with the slant of light. It is both slippery and strong, light and grounded, quick and steady. 

When unencumbered by my accessories, it glides in on a breath and sparks light into my entire being. Ideas as sentences as words as letters as keystrokes flow through my fingers. Both of me and not me. Coming through me, not from me.  

Once I dropped all of the stories I was clinging to about my writing, the writing became pure and unadulterated fun. It spilled into my life beyond writing. I taught more creative yoga classes. I actually wrote a story for storytime instead of reading a book to the preschool kids at the library. I played the ukulele more and sang louder. I came to work with a bounce in my step instead of the usual heel-drag shuffle. 

Right now, though, I’m writing for someone else. In my head, I’m thinking maybe I’ll show this piece to Steve Chandler or Michael Neill and they will read it out loud on the live call today and everyone will love me and I will get oohs and aahs and I will be famous. 

That’s what stops my flow. Stops my creativity. Shoves that fine piece of silk back in the closet with the camping equipment covered with spider webs. 

The creativity has been adulterated by my ego. 

But I see it. I name it by writing it down. And, it frees up. The wisp of silk slides back out of the closet from the crack underneath the door. It wraps me up in its pure delight. 

The silk doesn’t need compliments or accolades. It is beautifully astonishing with or without viewers. It delights in its own existence, not contemplating its purpose or its craft. Whether stuffed in a closet or shining on stage, it just is. 

I have read every writing book under the sun, and no book has ever motivated me to produce so much actual writing than this course. I made a goal of writing 30,000 words before this arbitrary date that Steve and Michael are hosting the last ‘Q and A’ session for the “Falling in Love with Writing” course. 

An arbitrary goal, really. Not that many words, really. But more words than I have ever written toward one project in my life. That’s on top of a full-time job, teaching yoga twice a week, building a coaching business, taking coaching courses, playing the ukulele, eating out with my husband since nobody is cooking, and taking my dog on abbreviated walks.  

Through this course, I did fall in love with writing. So thank you both. 

I found myself waking up earlier than usual, skipping down the stairs to my writing desk. Some mornings, the words were like stuck gum on the bottom of my shoe. Other days the words were careening out of me like a toddler hopped up on Gatorade before I even sat down to write. Either way, I “clocked in” by setting my 30-minute timer and I wrote. 

This course was a perfect blend of inspiration and ‘do the work’ attitude. By understanding where creativity comes from, combined with a blue-collar ethic, I accomplished my goal, as of this keystroke.

And tomorrow? 

I will wake up. I will write some more. 

Sarah Kostin