Janet Conner

I was due in New York last weekend for my first out of town appearance for my book. I should have been happy, but instead I was a wreck.

On Saturday, I received the first copy of {italic}Writing Down Your Soul.{/italic} It's taken two years. Why so long?

In honor of our sixtieth birthdays, my Marquette roommates and I toured our old haunts in Milwaukee. At Sunday brunch, Linda asked, “Have we changed or are we just more of who we were in college?”

When divorce happens you have a choice: Turn left and fight for every dollar, possession, and position. Or turn right and dig to find meaning and purpose. One way is exhausting and expensive. The other is full of hope.

Ask the Voice for guidance and direction and help will come. Doubt it? Look around.

'What did you do in the war?' I asked my dad about World War II. My son asked me about Vietnam. But help me. What do I say when my grandchildren ask about Iraq?

If you want to be a writer, stop thinking in the future tense and say it now: 'I am a writer.' Then, watch what happens. (Part 9 in a series.)

Does the pen you write with matter? Logically, it shouldn't. The universe does not have rules about this, I'm sure. But I am just a wee bit possessed by one very blue, very light, very gorgeous Mont Blanc.

Sitting down to write is hard work if you're sitting there by yourself. Surround yourself with a writing team, and suddenly writing is easy and a whole lot more fun. (Part 8 in a series.)

People think writers love to write. Perhaps there are a few writers who enjoy pumping out that first draft, but for most of us it's an ordeal. But every writer loves what comes next. (Part 7 in a series.)

Last week it was Mozart. This week it's Kiri Te Kanawa. Is this series about writing? Yes, but these great artists' insights into their art forms have something profound to tell us about writing. (Part 6 in a series.)

Mozart lived long before anyone ever heard of a brain wave. But he knew how to recognize and utilize the Theta brain wave state that supports creativity. And you can, too. (Part 5 in a series.)

Is this the year you write your book? Don't pick up a pen or rush to the computer. Don't plan an outline or proposal. Don't do anything until you set your intention. (Part 4 in a series.)

After people hear I've written a book, they invariably sidle up to me privately and say something like 'I've been trying to write my book for years.' Or 'This is the year I finally write my book.' (Part 3 in a series.)

As far as I know, no one writes the title of their year as though it were the title of a movie or book or painting. But naming your year is, I think, the extra ingredient, the key that unlocks the future you want.