Yosemite National Park Valley and Merced River, California, USA, in autumn. Low clouds at the mountain tops and trees behind the river in shades of green, yellow, and orange, with a gray stone wall in the foreground.

Writers Write About Gratitude

As we head into the winter holidays, I’ve gathered a collection of 31 quotes and passages about gratitude from well-known writers. I hope you enjoy them, and I wish you and your loved ones health and happiness.

“All sanity depends on this: that it should be a delight to feel the roughness of a carpet under smooth soles, a delight to feel heat strike the skin, a delight to stand upright, knowing the bones are moving easily under the flesh.”
—Doris Lessing, The Golden Notebook

“Let all your thinks be thanks.” —W.H. Auden

“In the end, though, maybe we must all give up trying to pay back the people in this world who sustain our lives. In the end, maybe it’s wiser to surrender before the miraculous scope of human generosity and to just keep saying thank you, forever and sincerely, for as long as we have voices.”
—Elizabeth Gilbert, Eat, Pray, Love

Close-up of wild red poppies on the meadow in sunny day. Decorated with light spots.

“Piglet noticed that even though he had a Very Small Heart, it could hold a rather large amount of Gratitude.” —A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh

“I still miss those I loved who are no longer with me but I find I am grateful for having loved them. The gratitude has finally conquered the loss.” —Rita Mae Brown

“Don’t let the sun go down without saying thank you to someone, and without admitting to yourself that absolutely no one gets this far alone.” —Stephen King

“Silent gratitude isn’t very much to anyone.” —Gertrude Stein

“Rest and be thankful.” —William Wordsworth

Close-up of a dandelion flower in a meadow with mostly brown tall grass and a few sprigs of green grass at its base.

“Thanks for this day, for all birds safe in their nests, for whatever this is, for life.” —Barbara Kingsolver

“I can no other answer make, but, thanks, And thanks, and ever thanks.” —William Shakespeare

“‘Thank you’ is the best prayer that anyone could say. I say that one a lot. Thank you expresses extreme humility, gratitude, understanding.” —Alice Walker

“Gratitude is a quality similar to electricity: It must be produced and discharged and used up in order to exist at all.” —William Faulkner

“Let gratitude be the pillow upon which you kneel to say your nightly prayer. And let faith be the bridge you build to overcome evil and welcome good.” —Maya AngelouCelebrations: Rituals of Peace and Prayer

Blooming Lupin wildflowers, close up, bright purple, some blurred, some in focus

“Appreciation is a wonderful thing. It makes what is excellent in others belong to us as well.” —Voltaire

“’I am sure they will be very grateful.’ How would you know? I wanted to say. Often those men in most need hate most to be grateful, and will strike at you just to feel whole again.” —Madeline Miller, Circe

“We can only be said to be alive in those moments when our hearts are conscious of our treasures.” —Thornton Wilder

“I’m so thankful for friendship. It beautifies life so much.” —L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Avonlea

“Let us be grateful to the people who make us happy; they are the charming gardeners who make our souls blossom.” —Marcel Proust

WWild California poppies, close up, in the Antelope Valley California poppy reserve.

“There is no better way to thank God for your sight than by giving a helping hand to someone in the dark.” —Helen Keller, Light in My Darkness

“Cultivate the habit of being grateful for every good thing that comes to you, and to give thanks continuously. And because all things have contributed to your advancement, you should include all things in your gratitude.” —Ralph Waldo Emerson

“My gratitude for good writing is unbounded; I’m grateful for it the way I’m grateful for the ocean.” —Anne Lamott, Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life

“Here is the world, and you live in it, and are grateful. You try to be grateful.”
—Michael Cunningham, The Hours

“But once you accept the fact that you have always been alone, and will always be, then your perspective can begin to change. You can become aware of the small kindnesses, the little comforts. Be grateful for them.” —Linda Olsson, Astrid and Veronika

Close-up of pink or mauve tulips in a field.

“For a wise man, I have been told, once said, ‘Gratitude is best and most effective when it does not evaporate in empty phrases.’ But alas, my lady, I am but a mass of empty phrases, it would seem.”
Isaac Asimov, Foundation and Empire

“What can we make of the inexpressible joy of children? It is a kind of gratitude, I think—the gratitude of the ten-year-old who wakes to her own energy and the brisk challenge of the world. You thought you knew the place and all its routines, but you see you hadn’t known. Whole stacks at the library held books devoted to things you knew nothing about. The boundary of knowledge receded, as you poked about in books, like Lake Erie’s rim as you climbed its cliffs. And each area of knowledge disclosed another, and another. Knowledge wasn’t a body, or a tree, but instead air, or space, or being—whatever pervaded, whatever never ended and fitted into the smallest cracks and the widest space between stars.” —Annie Dillard, An American Childhood

“Be grateful in your own hearts. That suffices. Thanksgiving has wings, and flies to its right destination.” —Victor Hugo

“It was gratitude; gratitude, not merely for having once loved her, but for loving her still well enough to forgive all the petulance and acrimony of her manner in rejecting him, and all the unjust accusations accompanying her rejection.” —Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice

“What an astonishment to breathe on this breathing planet. What a blessing to be Earth loving Earth.” John Green, The Anthropocene Reviewed

Close-up shot of bright orange tiger lilies growing in the wild or in a garden, with blurred background of greenery.

“For my part, I am almost contented just now, and very thankful. Gratitude is a divine emotion: it fills the heart, but not to bursting; it warms it, but not to fever.” —Charlotte Brontë

“An early-morning walk is a blessing for the whole day.” —Henry David Thoreau

“This a wonderful day. I’ve never seen this one before.” —Maya Angelou

Burned out writer sleeping at her desk in front of open laptop.

Knowing When to Quit

Author Tyler Dilts recently made an observation on social media that helped me solve a mystery:

Tweet by author Tyler Dilts @tylerdilts on November 15, 2021, that reads: Writing every single day rain or shine and without fail is the closest thing there is to a guarantee that you'll write half a novel, burn out, and never try again.

Writing every single day rain or shine and without fail is the closest thing there is to a
guarantee that you’ll write half a novel, burn out, and never try again. @tylerdilts 11/15/21

 

Dilts was talking about the unrealistic, overly demanding, and unkind expectations we often impose upon ourselves as writers. Like the way I throw myself into National Novel Writing Month like I’m throwing myself in front of a steamroller–I approach it with ferocity, like I’m going into the ring up against The Undertaker, Rowdy Roddy Piper, and The Million Dollar Man, all at once.

This year, I participated in NaNoWriMo for the 5th time. I did so because I’ve been overwhelmed with work and other commitments, I’m trying to finish a novel, and I’m not getting as much writing done as I’d like. So right as my schedule began to clear up, I decided it would be a great idea to add something new to my plate and force myself to write more. I wrote over 27,000 words in the first 16 days of November. I wrote at least 1,667 words on each of those days because, in addition to other achievements, participants are awarded a virtual badge for meeting the average word count daily, without fail. Something in me won’t let me fall short of my daily word count. And something in me won’t let me not win that badge.

Something in me.

I’m not here to disrespect NaNoWriMo. It’s a fantastic idea and a great organization that does a lot of good. It can be quite beneficial for writers. I think it’s especially helpful for writers who are where I was eight years ago–writers who are trying to get into the habit of writing regularly or who want to prove to themselves they can write a book (reader, you can). For even established writers, it can help jump start a new book, and it can be a fun way to engage with your writing community. It’s a nice annual tradition as we head into the dark winter months. As a matter of fact, the book I’m polishing up now started as a NaNoWriMo half-novel in 2013. It was an empowering experience for me to actually finish writing that half a draft. It showed me I could write regularly during a time when I was telling myself I never had time to write, and it showed me I could write a book. It was a life-changing experience. But over the past few days, I’ve come to realize that NaNoWriMo, much like Farmville, is no longer good for me.

It came to me shortly after I posted this on Twitter on Tuesday morning:

Tweet by writer Leanne Phillips @leannebythesea on November 16, 2021, that reads: Is NaNoWriMo trying to kill anyone else? Or is it just me? Something BIG & NOT GOOD happens EVERY TIME I do it. I almost died in Nov. 2013! I joke about it, but this year, they're replacing gas lines, gas has been shut off ALL MONTH & I've had a respiratory thing ALL MONTH. WTH?

Is NaNoWriMo trying to kill anyone else? Or is it just me? Something BIG &
NOT GOOD happens EVERY TIME I do it. I almost died in Nov. 2013! I joke about
it, but this year, they’re replacing gas lines, gas has been shut off ALL MONTH &
I’ve had a respiratory thing ALL MONTH. WTH? @leannebythesea 11/16/21

 

And then I saw Tyler Dilts’s post come up in my timeline again and retweeted it. And then I began to put two and two together. Is it by coincidence that I’ve gotten seriously ill every time I’ve participated in NaNoWriMo, when I don’t get so seriously ill other times of the year? And when I don’t get so seriously ill during other Novembers in which I don’t participate in NaNoWriMo? Maybe. I don’t know.

But I do know this: One of the reasons I’ve done NaNoWriMo in the past is because I know myself. I’m highly strung. I’m wound up tight. I can’t stand to fail. I hate not following through on something. Participating in NaNoWriMo weaponizes those traits. If I commit to writing 1,667 words every day for a month, I will do it even if it kills me. In 2013, it nearly did. Midway through November, I became so stubbornly ill my doctor wanted to hospitalize me. Twice. I don’t blame NaNoWriMo for my illness. I had an antibiotic-resistant infection, and I refused to slow down and listen to what my body was trying to tell me. I kept going until I no longer could. And what did I do as soon as I began to get well and was able to drag myself to my kitchen table again? I wrote between 5,000 and 10,000 words a day for three or four days to catch up and finish NaNoWriMo. Of course I did.

This year, I started feeling short of breath on Thursday, November 4th. The doctor couldn’t find anything physically wrong with me. I’d gotten my COVID-19 booster the week before. I’d had my flu shot. I tested negative for COVID-19 twice. A chest x-ray was clear. My lungs sounded fine. My temperature, oxygen saturation, and respirations were all normal. “Have you been feeling anxious about anything?” the doctor asked.

“Of all the stratagems, to know when to quit is the best.”
–Chinese Proverb

I kept writing those 1,667 words a day. By the following Thursday, I was feeling much worse. I also felt exhausted. I didn’t want to do all of the things I normally enjoy doing, including going out for walks or writing. Of course, you don’t know me, so you’ll have to take my word for it: I am a human dynamo. I get things done. This wasn’t normal for me. Over the weekend, I didn’t think I could write another word. But I did. I wrote thousands of them. And then on Sunday evening, I slowed down. After a long, hot shower, and over a comforting bowl of chicken noodle soup, I began to relax. I began to consider quitting NaNoWriMo, and I began to feel better. Which meant, of course, that by Monday morning, I was feeling well enough to continue NaNoWriMo.

To be fair, there were other things causing me anxiety, too. I had a deeply personal essay come out on November 9th. The gas in my bungalow was shut off for three weeks, which was a nightmare. And I live in California–there’ve been controlled burns in my county the last couple of weekends in an effort to prevent wildfires, which has meant a great deal of smoke in the air. Then there’s work, school, volunteer commitments. A global pandemic going on two years.

Most of that, I can’t control. I can’t control how people respond to my essay. I can’t control how fast my landlord replaces the gas lines. (And neither can he, God bless him, he’s doing the best he can.) I can’t control the wildfires. I can’t control the pandemic–I can only do my part. But there was one thing causing me anxiety that I could control. I could decide not to force myself to write 1,667 words a day every day for a month, when my body clearly needed a break, for no good reason other than my aversion to “failing.” (And the badges.)

Woman from torso down walking barefoot on black sand beach wearing floral dress.

What I’m writing here may sound contrary to other things I’ve written. I wrote recently about some of the things I like and don’t like about National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo: Preparing for 50,000 Words), and I also wrote about Structuring Your Writing Life. In both of those posts, I extolled the benefits of writing each and every day. I’ve written about Game Theory and Writing–I do believe gamifying writing goals can help writers achieve those goals, and NaNoWriMo is a great example of that. In another post, Time Is on My Side, I wrote that I have a daily writing practice–I keep a large calendar on my wall and mark an X through each day once I reach my daily writing goal.

But in those same posts, I also wrote that “long strolls and … periods of time when you are not thinking about your book are essential,” and I shared that my daily writing goal is this: to write for ten minutes each day. Only ten minutes. I’m easy on myself in my daily writing life. I wasn’t always, but I’ve learned to be. My writing mentors and role models have helped me to create a productive and enjoyable writing life. Mary Yukari Waters helped me see that I was sapping the joy out of my writing life by being overly rigid. Jill Alexander Essbaum was particularly instrumental in teaching me to take my creative days as they come and to revel in wherever those days may take me. She showed me what a productive and enjoyable writing life can look like, and she taught me that such a life should include things like getting plenty of fresh air and exercise. Deanne Stillman taught me that things take as long as they take and not to rush them. Tod Goldberg taught me that it’s okay to take a break, but it’s not okay to give up. They all taught me to enjoy being creative and to be more kind to myself.

This time, quitting when it was against my nature to quit felt like the win. I felt like I had my life back, a creative life I’ve worked hard to build over the last two and a half years. I felt joy.”

I do believe in building good habits and in working hard to reach your goals. But NaNoWriMo may not be the thing that works for everyone. And it may work at one point in life and not at another. My personality can be hardcore. I take things to extremes. Left to my own devices, I can turn just about anything into such demanding work that I take the fun out of it. I’m the Monica Geller of writing competitions. For me, NaNoWriMo brings out an unhealthy side of my personality.

These days, I choose to write at least ten minutes a day because that gets me sitting down at the keyboard. Once I start writing, I usually get into it and write for much longer than ten minutes, and I enjoy it. Most mornings, me and Walter Mosley can be found at our keyboards well before sunup and for several hours after. But if all I’ve got in me is the ten minutes, that’s okay. I stop and mark the X on my calendar. Beyond the ten minutes, my daily writing practice usually means continuing to work on my current WIP. But sometimes, my definition of writing is much more flexible. It might mean submitting a few stories to literary journals–I’ve done something toward my writing goals, so I mark the X on my calendar. It might mean taking a walk on the beach while working out a plot point in my head, getting to know a character, or brainstorming an idea for a new story. Counts as writing. I mark the X on my calendar. Today, writing this post counts as writing. On Sundays, taking a break from my computer to rejuvenate my soul counts as writing. As long as I do it deliberately and thoughtfully, it counts.

Tweet by Counts as Writing @CountsAsWriting on August 2, 2021, which reads: Today, forgiving yourself for not writing, counts as writing.

Today, forgiving yourself for not writing, counts as writing. @CountsAsWriting 08/02/21

 

I was already considering giving NaNoWriMo up by Sunday evening, because I was physically and emotionally wiped out and felt like dirt. But on Tuesday, Tyler Dilts’s tweet helped me connect the two things. I realized I was so caught up in word count that I wasn’t enjoying myself anymore. I started out like gangbusters, but after about 10,000 words, the words I was writing weren’t substantially contributing to me finishing my book. They were, however, substantially contributing to my anxiety. I’d fallen back into my old habit of being an overly rigid killjoy, and I literally made myself sick.

I deleted my NaNoWriMo account Tuesday night and went back to the daily writing practice I love. And I am feeling much better. To be fair, there are other reasons I’m feeling better, too. The smoke has cleared out of the air in my neighborhood. I got a lovely, heartwarming message in response to my essay that made all the anxiety leading up to its publication worthwhile. My gas was reconnected Tuesday evening and my hot water heater was fixed last night. And I took up coffee again after a three-day break–I love coffee. But I have to be honest–I felt a weight lift from my chest when I deleted my NaNoWriMo account. This time, quitting when it was against my nature to quit felt like the win. I felt like I had my life back, a creative life I’ve worked hard to build over the last two and a half years. I felt joy.

I came out of this aborted NaNoWriMo attempt with 27,000+ words, including a new, 10,000-word draft of a story that takes place in the desert on the 20th anniversary of Gram Parson’s death. It’s a story I love. I can’t stop thinking about it. I am anxious to start revising it. It suddenly made no sense to me to keep writing new words I wasn’t enjoying writing in order to earn quite-colorful-and-nice-to-look-at-but-still-virtual badges, when what I really wanted to do was to begin rewriting this story I am excited about. (The other 17,000 words are mostly rubbish, to be honest.)

“Knowing when to quit is probably a very important thing, but I just am not ready.”
–James Taylor

So I quit NaNoWriMo, and I’m okay with that. I deleted my account because my personality is also such that, if I hadn’t, two days from now I’d have logged back in and decided I could still buckle down and make my word count in time. It was one of those decisions you tussle with, but once you’ve made up your mind, you know it was the right decision.

Please understand, when I say to know when to quit, I do not mean to quit writing or to give up on your dreams. I don’t mean to quit NaNoWriMo either–if it’s feeding you and empowering you, fantastic. Keep going! You’ve got this! It’s a personal choice. But know when something you’re doing is no longer working for you. Know when a project you’re working on is no longer bringing you joy. Know when a writing practice is bringing you down. Listen to your body, and know when you need a break or to set something aside for a day, or a week, or a couple of months. And whatever else you do, please be as kind to yourself as you would be to anyone else.

These are my words for today, Thursday, November 18th. They count as writing. They were a pleasure and a relief to write, and I hope you found something useful in them.

WRITER TIP: Speaking of knowing when to quit, here’s a great tip about ending a writing session from Ernest Hemingway: “The best way is always to stop when you are going good and when you know what will happen next. If you do that every day when you are writing a novel you will never be stuck.”
Woman sitting cozy on her bed in a sweater and socks, with her tablet, a mug of milk, and cookies.

Writing from Prompts

A half dozen Christmases ago, my daughter Melissa gave me a book called 642 Things to Write About. At the time, I had never used writing prompts, except once during a dark November when I was seriously stuck and in danger of falling far short of my NaNoWriMo word count. The prompt I used then was one from @NaNoWordSprints. 26,000+ Twitter followers and I were prompted to write a scene in which we got our main characters out of a sticky situation. I went with it, but I expected the scene I wrote from the prompt to help me reach a word count and nothing more. I didn’t expect the words to actually make it into my finished novel. That didn’t feel good, but I was desperate.

I was never a fan of using writing prompts. I’m not sure why. I guess using them seemed fake to me. Canned. Like a science term paper—writing a bunch of words I wasn’t really feeling, about a topic which had been pre-selected for me, because I had to. And it seemed wasteful of my writing time. Like I was carelessly tossing away words I would never use—words that had no personal meaning behind them and that would never amount to anything.

To my surprise, though, the @NaNoWordSprints writing prompt did help. I wrote for the allotted 10-15 minutes, and I ended up with a fun and pivotal scene that set my novel in a new direction. Voila! By writing about getting my main character out of a sticky situation, my main character and I and my plot—we were all unstuck. Because the pressure was off, I just wrote, and I had fun with it. Because I was having fun with it, my creativity was unleashed. It’s crazy to think that as many as 26,000 other people had also written scenes from that prompt, each of them unique.

With that one positive experience in mind, I read through the prompts in the book my daughter gave me. I began to see the value in using writing prompts, not only to spark my imagination, but to unearth stories which were already buried inside me, waiting to be told.

The first time I opened the book, this prompt jumped out at me, on the very first page: “A house plant is dying. Tell it why it needs to live.” I was surprised to realize I had a story for this prompt. The prompt sparked two memories: a memory about the dozens of houseplants my father entrusted to me (a serial plant murderess) after my green-thumbed mother died, and a memory about the one plant my father kept—a stubborn zebra plant with which he had a love/hate relationship.

I’d never thought of either of these two experiences as anything to write about. But thanks to my daughter’s thoughtful gift, I wrote about them from that prompt. As I wrote, I realized there were stories in these experiences, stories which I might never have written, stories about motherhood and grief and the difficulty of letting go. Over several years and many revisions, that prompt eventually became an essay which will be published in Persimmon Tree magazine in 2022.

The lesson here, I suppose, is to take inspiration wherever you find it, or wherever you can get it, or sometimes, wherever you might least imagine it to be.

WRITER TIP: Writing prompts don’t have to be textual, they can be visual as well, or both, like the 10 years worth of writing prompts Luke Neff, an Oregon high school teacher, posted on his Tumblr blog: WritingPrompts.tumblr.com. You can get your own copy of 642 Things to Write About (as well as many other great craft and prompt books) at the San Francisco Writers’ Grotto.

On Structuring Your Writing Life

I used to think of structure as the enemy. I believed that, if I tried to impose any kind of structure on my writing life, it would interfere with my creativity. Writers are artists, right? Artists don’t live a boring, rigorously scheduled, 9-5 life. Artists wake up when they please, go out for coffee in cafés where everyone knows them by name, then go for leisurely strolls on windswept beaches or in sun-dappled forests, depending on where they live. In the afternoons, they read and paint and take peaceful naps. In the evenings, they stroll again, this time down to the corner pub. At some point, when inspiration strikes, they sit down at their typewriters and dash off brilliant, bestselling novels.

“How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives. What we do with this hour, and that one, is what we are doing. A schedule defends from chaos and whim. It is a net for catching days. It is a scaffolding on which a worker can stand and labor with both hands at sections of time. A schedule is a mock-up of reason and order—willed, faked, and so brought into being; it is a peace and a haven set into the wreck of time; it is a lifeboat on which you find yourself, decades later, still living.” –Annie Dillard, The Writing Life

This romantic notion of writing had me convinced that inspiration would strike when it was good and ready and that I had no control over it. The only thing I could do was answer its call when it did strike. I pictured myself, after a prolonged period of writer’s block, waking suddenly from a sound sleep, dashing to my typewriter, and writing madly for weeks on end, fueled only by coffee freshly ground from the best beans. When they were ready to come, the worlds would flow and take on a life of their own. At the end of that time, utterly exhausted, but glowing with satisfaction, I would pull the final page of my magnificent manuscript from the typewriter.

“This is how you do it: you sit down at the keyboard and you put one word after another until its done. It’s that easy, and that hard.” –Neil Gaiman

This, unfortunately, is not how it works. For one thing, I don’t own a typewriter. Or a coffee grinder. And I’m actually out of printer paper at the moment and nearly out of ink. I do my writing at a decidedly unromantic computer keyboard. Yes, there are days when the words begin to flow and take on a life of their own, but the funny thing is, this usually happens when I’m already sitting at my keyboard tapping out nonsense. If I wrote only when I felt inspired, I wouldn’t get much writing done. The truth of the matter is, the more I write, the more I’ve written, and the better I get at it.

“You can’t wait for inspiration. You have to go after it with a club.” –Jack London

The old adage that success is 1% inspiration and 99% perspiration holds true for writing as much as for anything else. If you want to be a writer, be a writer. Write each and every day. Set up a writing schedule, stick to it as best you can, and write, write, write. Don’t pay attention to whether the words are any good or not—that is what interferes with creativity. Filling the blank page with words is the initial goal and all you should think about until you have a complete draft. “Write drunk, edit sober,” Hemingway said. We’ll talk about editing another time, because it’s November, and we’re on a mission to get 50,000 words written.

“Just write every day of your life. Read intensely. Then see what happens. Most of my friends who are put on that diet have very pleasant careers.” –Ray Bradbury

Brilliance, I have found, is a great deal more the product of arduous work and good editing than it is the product of creative genius. Dedication and persistence will win out over unbridled talent every time. Okay, well most of the time. Yes, those long strolls and those periods of time when you are not thinking about your book are essential. They have their place, and I’ll write about that soon, too. But in general, if you spend your life waiting for inspiration to strike, you will find yourself waiting for an awfully long time.

WRITER TIP: Author K.M. Weiland wrote: “Inspiration may sometimes fail to show up for work in the morning, but determination never does.” Make determination a part of your writing life. Schedule a dedicated time of day to write, whether you’re feeling inspired or not, and be determined to stick to your schedule.