Winter workshops open for reg today! And, let’s talk about confidence.
A crescent moon in the night sky. (Image credit: Vladislav Klapin via Unsplash)
Hello one-who-longs-to-write. It’s me.
First things first: Our cozy slate of small-group winter workshops opens today.
We have our popular seasonal steadies back — Begin Here, Life Stories, Focus and Flow, and more. We’re also revisiting some beloveds that run less frequently — Fat Joy, The Further Shore, and Writing Our Way Back to Each Other. And, we have two brand new workshops — Progress and Sexy Pens.
We’d love to host you.
Okay… Still here? I’ve been thinking.
The other night I was walking my dog down the long streetlamp-softened sidewalks in my neighborhood, when a phrase bubbled up into my head. It took a while, until I placed it — it was in a hymn we used to sing in church as a kid.
It is well, it is well with my soul.
I couldn’t remember more than that so I slipped my earbuds in and the magic of the internet conjured the rest of the song up. As soon as the first piano chords slipped into my ears, it all came back — the smell of oak pews and stone walls, the watery light through coloured glass, and my mom’s voice, confidently singing beside me.
Do we all have these? Little scraps of memory so vivid they can startle us with sudden grief? My mom is still alive and well, still singing in church on Sundays, but I haven’t been there with her in decades, and the memory was warm with nostalgia.
What I heard, mostly, was her confidence, and — this was new — how that confidence planted a seed in me.
Confidence is such a tricky one.
It seems the more anyone has it, the less we want it for them, though when they don’t have any, we want to pour it in. It’s like we all carry an inner confidence barometer, deciding how much anyone should be allowed.
We all find ourselves on the wrong side of someone’s barometer at some point. I remember the last day of a volunteer project I led in Australia. I’d been thrown into a leadership role too young, and I hadn’t won anyone over. On that day, two of the older volunteers stumbled into our dorm room laughing, not seeing me, saying: Chris is on a bit of a power trip for a 21-year-old.
Oof! My body flushed and the words buried themselves deep. I must never be in power again.
But as writers, we can’t do anything without confidence.
It’s as necessary as the words themselves. For most of us, finding it is our central struggle.
We know in our bones how to tell stories.
We know in our bones how words work.
But we often forget that we have the right to use them, and that what we say deserves to take up space in the world.
This is especially true for ______.
You can insert any marginalized identity into that space, they’ll all fit. There are so many ways that the world bullies us into silence.
But in that church, my mom knew that her voice mattered. And even though at the time I would have preferred that she be soft spoken and sitting near the back, I can’t get enough of that memory now.
So. You. Who taught you that you had a voice?
Who showed you what it’s like to hold it open?
Where did you experience someone who looked or acted or moved like they were claiming their space in the world?
What was your first glimpse that the things you want to express might be welcome?
Maybe confidence comes and goes like the moon.
Maybe we’re not supposed to store it up and never run out.
If you’re in a time of low confidence, know you’re not alone in there. It might be that something is quietly rearranging in you, a new vision waiting to show itself. Fill up on kindness until your self-trust comes back.
And if you’re in a time of high confidence, sing it out. Your voice is yours and it is good. If you can find someone to sing beside, do. Plant a seed in them, a quiet hope one day they’ll know their voice matters too.
Whatever phase your moon is in, we would love to write with you this winter. Here are some invitations.
Winter Writing Workshops
Since this is Day One, the buffet table is wide open.
If you’re looking to try something brand new, or come back to writing after a break, look at Begin Here or Keep Your Pen Moving.
If you’ve been at Firefly for a while, check out our new workshops just for alum, Progress.
A few of these are in person!
We love your dang faces! We’ll be gathering for 2 in-person workshops this winter, at the very charming and accessible St. Matthew’s Clubhouse.
Kim is offering a one-day version of Keep Your Pen Moving, and then Kim and I are jumping into the deep end to run Sexy Pens, a steamy erotic writing workshop.
The Big One is open for applications
Twice a year, we launch a small group of writers on a nourishing, deep-reaching creative journey called The Big One.
This is for folks who are ready to go the distance into their writing, and to support others along the way.
It’s 9 months, 23 sessions, a full weekend, and lots of little extras.
And, of course — a poem.
A little one, by Mary Oliver, to slip under the door of your day.
All is well with my soul today.
Maybe not tomorrow. But today I’m writing and I may even hit send. Today I’m warm inside a childhood memory that feels uncomplicated. Today I’m trusting my confidence enough to reach a line of words out towards you, hoping they’ll find you well, or on your way back there.
In it with you,
