Discovering Mindful Writers: Bonnie Radcliffe
Wisdom and reflections from Bonnie's writing journey
Welcome to the “Discovering Mindful Writers Q&A”. Each month, a guest writer answers the same seven questions about their writing life. When I came up with the idea for this series last year, I had no idea that it would prove so popular! It has been great to connect with so many new people both through those who appear in the interview and in the comments that their answers prompt. I answered them myself recently and it was a very interesting exercise to answer my own questions! The schedule is full until the end of the year now so I will open up for new guests again in the Autumn.
This month I’m delighted to welcome
— a feminist fiction and nature writer searching for the wild wonder of the everyday. As a keen wild swimmer she is fascinated by the sea and the stories it holds. She writes Wild Quiet Folk where she invited us to escape into the wild world around us, and to celebrate the curious, the quiet, and the overlooked.I hope you enjoy finding out more about her mindful writing journey. I love what she sys about words writing her into the landscape, into the world. Do let us know what you think about her answers in the comments.
With love,
What does mindful writing mean to you?
Honestly, the first thing that comes to mind for me is that all my writing, fiction and non-fiction, is mindful; the act of putting thoughts into words, of noticing a feeling or an image and trying to capture it perfectly, to let something loose from the constriction of one person’s mind, to capture it in words, tie it up in a bow and present it to the world — that to me is mindfulness of the highest order. Writing makes me make sense. I don’t mean that it makes me make sense of my thoughts, but that when I am writing and those thoughts are flowing and I am engaged in both creating and clarifying something, that is when I make most sense as a human.
When I write fiction I begin with an idea or a story, and I am mindful of how it needs to grow. I try, in those first stages, to only be mindful of my own process — the time for being mindful of how the story will affect others comes later, and that too is a vital part of the process.
My non-fiction work, like Wild Quiet Folk, is possibly the most intentionally mindful writing. I set myself a ten minute timer to get started and I begin to write, with the loose framework of describing one walk I’ve done that week. Inevitably other things that have been on my mind, often stories of women’s rights or snatches of folklore, will thread their way into my walk. And as I write it I re-live it, and I see so much detail from that one walk, detail that I noticed but which becomes richer on returning to it. The walk becomes a fully formed experience.
And then, the next time I am walking anywhere, even just to the shops, I am more mindful of those details, knowing I will want to harvest them for my writing. I take more photos and I list the sensations and the whole cycle continues, the writing feeding the awareness feeding the writing.
How does a mindful writing practice fit into your wider mindfulness journey?
Words are intrinsically linked to my experience of the day to day. Words give shape to the experience of living. They report back. I write them down and I whisper them to myself and I learn to name things, to name distraction and to name feelings and to name the birds and the plants and the why of it all. They let me wonder about things and they let me feel wonder for things and they help me make sense.
Often, before work I will have ten minutes spare, and I will be tired and I will want to sit in the car and stare at my phone but I will make myself walk, promising just ten minutes. I will list the things around me, the sensations and the smells and the sights. The path is rough beneath my thin soled boots, there is a crushed coke can in the bushes and there is pollen floating on the water, which is black in the middle of the canal, but almost green at the edges. There are two moorhens squawking and a V of geese overhead and the moon is a hole punch in the pale sky. The words, written in my head, write me into the landscape, write me into the world.
What do you write? Essays, poetry, fiction, plays?
I write fiction, mostly long form. I am in the process of submitting a feminist gothic novel set on a silent film set, and am about to embark on a new novel, which is still misty to me, but which my plans for, at the moment, mostly involves visiting as many lighthouse as I can – a lighthouse summer, if you will! I also write non-fiction, about nature, the beauty of the small things and the stories that are rooted in the land.
What drives you to write?
Writing is such a beautiful, soulful, impossible thing. I feel loose and flowing and possible when I write. More than that, I write, mostly, because there are things I want to share, because there are things I’d like people to notice that have gone overlooked, there are ideas I want to bat around, there are places so beautiful I want others to be able to breathe just a little of their glory, there are kindnesses and cruelties that need talking about, there are minds that need changing, there are beliefs that need shaking. I need stories and it is my deep belief that other people do too. Strip everything away and at the very bottom of it, I write because I hope that something that I have needed to write might find its way out, into the universe, and come into the hands of someone who needs to read just that very thing. That is the magic of stories.
What stops you from writing?
I would say time, which is always a factor for everyone, but I think the thing at the root of that problem is exhaustion. I have written early in the morning and late at night and I have scheduled writing days and I know that I can make the time, even just a little, if I need to. But when there are many demands on your mental attention, it can be hard to dig inside, to uncover the spark of joy and inspiration that makes that writing time productive. I also find not having a plan stops me! I know many people like to write without knowing where it is going. For me, this is fine when I’m feeling inspired, but what about the days when you’re not? If I don’t have a plan on these days, nothing will happen. A plan means, even if I can’t be bothered, I know what it is I have to write and so I just get on with it – and half the time just the act of starting out brings the inspiration back.
What do you hope to achieve with your writing?
I want my words to find the people who need them. I want to puzzle things out and to pose questions and to spark puzzles for other people. I want to be able to share stories as communication, as a doorway to better understanding the world and each other, and I want to be constantly learning. On a more practical note, because I deeply believe that artists and writers should be paid properly, I want to be able to make a living from my writing and other creative work.
How do you write? Are you a planner or do you just start writing from an idea and let it lead you?
I LOVE a plan! Although, this is different for fiction and no-fiction, actually. As I said with my Substack, I set a timer for ten minutes to trick myself into starting. The idea is I only need to write for ten minutes, and the time pressure makes me go fast! I do usually (always!) cheat and ignore the alarm and carry on, but I try not to go for too long. Then I re-draft one or two times, then I tell myself I have to let it go, out into the world. That it needs to be done rather than perfect. I am starting to add themes into my posts, so one that is purely a walk, one that is a folktale retelling, one that is a guest post — so I have a vague idea more than a plan for these. With fiction, I start with a synopsis, then I break it into chapters. And then once I have the first draft down, I re-draft and re-draft and re-draft. Things change all the time and things move around, but knowing what is supposed to be coming gives me a grounding. And there is always space to follow my instincts and throw the plan out of the window if need be!
Thanks so much for your time and sharing your insights and inspirations, Bonnie.
Next month’s guest is
. Catherine shares stories of the art of slow living while navigating the wild ride of motherhood, homeschooling, and entrepreneurship.Read previous interviews in the series here.
Thank you for sharing your process. Writing on a timer is a simple, yet effective way to trick ourselves into action!
I loved answering your thoughtful questions!