What if your story could change the world? Elora believes it can. The one you’ve been hiding under your heart’s bed, afraid that a little air will make it a monster you can’t escape? That’s the story she wants to hear. That’s the story you’ve got to tell before it sucks the air right out of your lungs.
It was this belief that prompted Elora to launch Story Unfolding, a respite for tired artists needing to get unstuck. She’s written a novel, is about to publish her second one, and writes out holy & broken on her blog.
Keep up with the lovely Elora:
When we first moved into our new apartment, I almost bailed on finishing my book.
First, it was the rush of unpack-all-of-these-boxes-now. Aesthetics is huge for me, and so I knew I wouldn't really work if I had boxes lining the walls of my office and unpacked books hiding somewhere in our garage.
So instead of writing, I decorated.
When I was done, when all of the boxes that could be unpacked were empty, and all of my books lined the shaky Ikea shelves we inherited from friends, I sat in my chair to write, expecting the words to just flow.
Apparently my creativity had other ideas.
I couldn't focus. I was lethargic. I'd wander through our new digs and bump into things because I wasn't used to the layout yet.
And then, clarity.
I texted a friend I know understands the ins and outs of the artistic process.
"Mayday. I can't write. I haven't written. My focus and drive are missing, and I have no clue where they flew off to..."
She shot back a quick reply: "Transition, braveheart. You're mourning."
I knew in my bones what she was saying was on point.
You see, often, when our focus flees, it's because we're in the midst of a transition of sorts. Artistically, personally, mentally, spiritually—whatever is the catalyst, our minds know. Our Muse takes note.
And for a little while, we get a reprieve from the pull of the creative life.
We have two choices here. We can push through, agonizing through the moments in which we're putting words on page because really, we just want to take a nap or read that book or binge watch Pretty Little Liars.
We can just rest. We can trust that in time, our focus will return and with it, a renewed sense of clarity that our vision never really left us—she was just shedding some old skin.
Are you having difficulty focusing? Is there something you may be needing to let go? I see you. Transitions are hard and regardless of what goodness they may be bringing to the table, often a sense of scattered grief settles in our bones. Listen to those words, today. What might you be needing to breathe in and let go before you can breathe out and create?