Welcome to The Writing Sanctuary, where I share inspiration and insights from my Year of Mindful Writing course, training in therapeutic journaling and positive psychology, and many years spent as a fiction writer, creative writing teacher, and indie publisher. Rooted in my ongoing journey with mindfulness, Taoism, Buddhism, Gnosticism and metaphysics, and many other things, these monthly posts are here to help develop your writing craft and your wellbeing.
Each month there’s a mix of ideas, reflections, and writing prompts to help you connect more deeply to your stories — and to yourself, others and the world around you. If you’re a paid member, you’ll receive the full post and can share your thoughts in the comments. If you’re not yet a member, you’ll get the preview section to inspire your practice. Either way, I’m so grateful to you for being here and I’d love to hear what comes up for you.
Where Inner Growth Meets Story Structure
I’ve come to believe that mindfulness sits right at the heart of the stories we tell. Whether we’re writing fiction or memoir, our characters mirror our own journeys.
In stories, characters are tested. At first, they react the way they always have. But over time, they begin to change. The old ways stop serving them and they begin to shed those behaviours they’ve always fallen back on in order to discover who they are now.
It’s the same with us. And writing — when done mindfully — can help us recognise our own fallibility, our protective behaviours, our desires to make things different. It gives us a way in to ourselves. I believe this is true of all writing we do — in our journals, in the novels and short stories we write, and in our memoir pieces.
Dara Marks, in her brilliant book, Inside Story: The Power of the Transformational Arc (which I wrote about here), says that the stories that really touch us and stay with us are ones where the character has a fatal flaw, which she defines as:
"A struggle within a character to maintain a survival system long after it has outlived its usefulness."
She shows how characters like George Bailey (self-denial), Luke Skywalker (adolescence), and Henry Hill (denial of consequences) are trapped by behaviours that once protected them but now limit their growth.
When we’re honest with ourselves and reflect on our own actions, we can see that we are trapped in behaviour patterns too. In many ways, big and small.
Mindful Writing Exercise
Using a character you’re working on (or yourself or family members/friends/colleagues if writing memoir), consider:
What is their fatal flaw?
What have they been running from?
What happens to make them confront it?
How do they react initially when made to confront it?
How might mindfulness help them see things differently?
How do they change?
In the novel I’m writing now, I have two protagonists and only one of them has revealed her fatal flaw so far. It’s that she keeps her true self locked away and doesn’t form any close relationships, beyond the one she has with her dad, because she thinks she’s not to be trusted as she let her best friend down very badly when they were just eighteen. She’s forty now and the time has come to face it all. The time has come to be more mindful.
Mindfulness Isn’t Magic — But It Works
I’m always talking about it, so what is mindful living really?
To me, it means choosing to change the behaviours and beliefs that no longer serve us. It means recognising the unhealthy patterns we fall into. It means paying attention — to our thoughts, emotions, bodies, and surroundings — and responding rather than reacting. Not getting carried away with the monkey mind chatter. It doesn’t mean we don’t feel things deeply; it just helps us be with, and deal with, those feelings differently.
And the science backs it up. Mindfulness reduces stress, lowers blood pressure, improves concentration, and brings more clarity and peace. Emotionally, it helps us stay steady even when life is at its hardest.
But mindfulness isn’t an instant fix. Like developing our craft, it takes time. Practice. Intention. It’s a choice to make every day.
Tony Brady writes in Just for Today: A Guide to Mindful Living Day by Day:
“The force of long habit runs strong. But habits can be broken, and good ones can be acquired, if we try to practice with a degree of seriousness.”
And yet it doesn’t have to be all serious. I believe we can hold things lightly, be filled with fun and joy, and still commit to change. Still live, and write, mindfully.
When I found myself homeless last month, my old ways would have sent me into a panic. But mindfulness helped me stay grounded, accept what was happening, and be open to the unexpected gifts that followed. We ended up in Northumberland for a week — by the sea, among kind people, walking on beautiful beaches in the sunshine every day.
I’m now in a peaceful spot by the sea in Scotland, where the skies are vast and the openness is reflecting my shift in perspective. A shift that came about because I let go of old ideas about myself and the world (which always made me worry and panic) and trust that all is unfolding as it should. There’s no need to worry and panic. I have shelter, food, love and something will come along. It always does. And it’s mindfulness that has enabled me to see that it does. I am always okay.
Journal Prompts
Try one or more of these prompts to discover where you can shift some perspectives:
What are some little things you used to stress about that now feel less important?
What makes you anxious, and what are you really afraid of?
How have you reacted to challenges in the past? What worked and what didn’t?
When do you feel most free and alive?
What’s something your past self did that you’re grateful for now?
What powerful lessons have you learned in the difficult and challenging times?
Whatever comes up for you here, don’t judge it , or yourself. Mindful living is also about being compassionate with ourselves. Showing ourselves the kindness and understanding we give to others.
Writing the Truth: Pain, Hope, and Everything Between
If you read this Substack regularly, you’ll know how deeply I believe in changing the stories we tell — because doing so can change us and how we experience the world. And collectively, that can change the reality we create.
Mindful writing doesn’t avoid hardship and grief, or shy away from the darkness of human life. It holds both shadow and light.
So let’s look at some stories that capture that balance and do some writing exercises to play with how we can do it in ours.