I have been thinking a lot about the art of writing lately. About language and how we use words, craft sentences, build worlds and express ourselves.
As I have come to the end of editing the 3rd draft of my 4th book, “I Don’t See Colour: Everything My Body Learnt to Hide”, the book has morphed from a self-help-spirituality text into a sort of lyrical memoir - a series of essays and reflections on race, lineage, and embodied spirituality.
Now is as good a time as any to confess to you that I have never once read a self-help book in its entirety.
I’ve owned plenty (and promptly sold them) and even written one (Cosmopolitan Hippy: A Modern Girl’s Guide to Being Healthy and Fabulous), but honestly they are just not for me.
I hate being told what to do.
But coming from an academic background and writing 3 books and 2 scholarly research articles, I love telling people what to do and how to think.
When you start to talk about uncomfortable things like The Architecture of Empire - the systems that shape our very existence and benefit only a few (and you’re telling people that you, as the writer, are not someone who benefited), you make people feel uncomfortable. They don’t like that. They demand a lot of explaining from you.
And you panic. Cortisol floods your system - your brain drowning in it - your language centres go completely offline, and you are silent.
Once the initial panic wears off, you seek to justify, spending hours getting lost in scholars, in stats, in history and checks and balances, and suddenly your lived experience - what you know to be true in your bones - has vanished.
You forget what your point was in the beginning. Why was it so important…?
Funnily enough, this was all highlighted to me by learning Portuguese. We have lived here for almost 2 and a half years now, and still, my Portuguese is minimal. The problem is, if someone catches me off guard with an unfamiliar phrase, I panic. But then, several minutes later (once the cortisol has left my system), I think of the perfect response.
Do you ever do that? It’s so common the French have a term for it - l’esprit de l’escalier: staircase wit - the thing you think of on the way out.
Lately, I have become obsessed with language and expression. I turn phrases over and over in my mouth, tasting every syllable, savouring every punctuation. Practising not just Portuguese, but English too. Rewriting my book to give it more storytelling, more of a felt sense to it, taking my time to flesh out my intutive knowings to my clients in their sessions, sharpening my comments to the mediocre men on Facebook.
My oldest daughter was so impressed with me at the markets last week as I ordered cheese at the deli with the ease of a Portuguese local; high praise indeed from a teenager.
So I know that practice pays off.
There is great benefit in devoting time and effort to developing our unique voice.
You don’t have to be a writer like me, but wouldn’t it be nice to express yourself with ease? No effort. The right thing just sailing out of your mouth at the right time.
At present, I am ok at it, but it’s a skill I am developing.
Do you want to develop it too?
So far, I have 5 women who have said YES! They want to develop the skill with me.
On Wednesday the 26th of August, we begin a 5-week training group to develop the skill of speaking up with SAY THAT AGAIN.
I have identified 4 key components you need:
Feel the fear and do it anyway - recognise the cortisol surge and make it your friend.
Time - you need to buy yourself some.
The Bank - a few memorised key phrases to whip out at a moment’s notice.
The Exit - know when to stop talking.
3 spots remain.
The most fun thing - we’re going to develop “The Bank” together. Witty and devastating phrases you can whip out in any conversation where Barry from HR starts mainsplaining the photocopier to you or Bill from accounts tells that racist joke that always makes you cringe.
I might even give you some Portuguese ones.