This week's In The Word Cellar column is an interlude of inspiration. I almost titled this post "Things I've Been Telling Myself (which you may or may not find useful, too)." I had intended to write about the rules of writing this week, but apparently I needed an affirmation of my creative powers instead. Writing has been slow going for the past two weeks, even downright painful at times. So here's a little shot in the arm to keep you -- and me -- going. Come back in two weeks for what I hope will become a rousing discussion on the topic of when it's okay to break the rules of grammar, sentence structure, and punctuation. Fun times!

• When you sit down to write and there are no words, listen.
• When you look at the blank page and panic, type the first ten words that come to mind, no matter what they are. Then type ten more. It might hurt, but keep typing until you find the thread of some story, even if it's not a story you knew you needed to tell.
• When you open a jumbled mess of a document to rewrite it and feel physically repulsed by what you are sure is hard core evidence of your shortcomings, breathe.
• When the call to create becomes a burden, shift your energy from a place of duty to a place of privilege. Stop saying "I have to," and start saying "I get to."
• When every single word or brush stroke or click of the shutter feels like a slow and clumsy slog through the mud, take a break. And then go back to slogging until you can find an easier way. If the way doesn't get easier, only you can really know if you're on the wrong path or if this is simply a time of learning and strengthening for you. Be honest and proceed accordingly.
• When you feel certain that your success is behind you and all future attempts will fail, try to chuckle at your own mix of pride and insecurity. And take comfort in the knowledge that other artists have this same mix inside of them, too.
• When you don't know what to create, ask yourself what you love. Then make that.
• When all of this fails, remind yourself to create out of a sense of love, not fear.
• When you feel overwhelmed and sick to your stomach with other people's smarmy inspiration, take these words (and all aphorisms) with the clichéd grain of salt. Then find your own way to keep creating. (And tell us about it in the comments.)

The world has been white and grey for weeks now. I don't mind the cold. After all, I like wearing sweaters and scarves. I don't even want a purely cloudless sky, as too much sunlight sets me on edge, makes me jittery in its garish gaze. I love the look of rolling fields covered in snow blankets. Winter is not my enemy. But this winter. Oh Lord, save us from this winter. Inches and feet of snow, more in a month than in a whole normal season. Temperatures never above freezing long enough for grass or shrubbery to peek through. Fifteen-foot high mountains of dirty ice and snow taking up half a row of spots in the grocery store parking lot.

But yesterday, in an impossible moment, a bird called out the beginning of a song in the six a.m. still-dark morning. Just the four opening notes, an overture, an invocation, an invitation to spring. I was rolling over to go back to sleep, but I whistled along in my mind, raising my own silent birdsong in hope and expectation. 

I ache for spring breezes and long for flowers. I scan the colorless sky for some movement in the gauzy heavens, some whisper of blue. I take considerable comfort and joy in the birds, the darting red of cardinals, the swooping blue of jays, the velvet vests of orange upon robins. These are the only colors in this anemic landscape. The mourning doves camouflage themselves in the branches, all puffed up and plump in serene tones of tan and grey. They look so cozy in this wonderland, and for that I respect them. 

I crave clementines. I need the sweet tang of citrus. I have forsaken the comfort foods of of my youth for spicier climes. I've traded pot pie and mashed potatoes for curries and salsas. In the deep heart of this winter, the white-out hour before spring's dawn, I need zest. I need heat. My appetite has become downright tropical.

• Everyone (even the people I admire) feels scared and inept sometimes.
• If I put an item under the broiler and then walk away to check on something else, said item will probably come out extra crispy.
• Gatwick the Catwick knows when I'm terribly upset and will assert his furry cheeks and whiskers to calm me down.
• I'm more talented and hardworking that I give myself credit for.
• Doing the dishes doesn't take as long as I think it will.
• A clean and orderly house soothes a multitude of anxious thoughts.
• "North, Miss Tessmocker" is a quote from one of the Superman movies.
• My husband knows how to juggle.
• The longer I stay home alone, the lonelier I feel and the more I want to stay home alone. The only antidote is a forced foray out into the world. (Or: It takes a lot of energy and willpower to break the spell of inertia.)
• I need some structure to feel sane.
• Nobody has all of their so-called shit together.
• The magic of writing always comes back, even after long stretches of mulish slogging through muddy words.

What do you forget to remember?

Here's my short answer: Yes.

Of course, there's also a longer answer.

I'm drawn to kitchen analogies lately, so for a minute, let's think of writing as cooking. Can cooking be taught? Of course it can. In order to cook, we need to learn about different kinds of ingredients, how they react to various cooking methods, and how their flavors interact with each other. We need to know about utensils, how to tell when produce is ripe, the best way to chop an onion. To cook, we learn how to measure things, how to read a recipe, and eventually how to improvise without one. In order to create a tasty dish, we need to understand the ingredients, the method, and the art of seasoning something just so. Yes, cooking can be taught. This isn't to say that everyone will have the same cooking style, will excel at preparing the same dishes, or will become master chefs. After all, I did say the art of seasoning. But the building blocks of cooking can be taught.

I feel the same way about writing. Yes, there is a difference between natural talent and learned skill. And yes, I believe that both exist and will impact the way we write. But we won't get very far on the page if we focus too much on innate ability and neglect the learned skills part of the picture.

What is the basis of writing? Language. That's simple, but it gets tricky. Because we use language everyday, it's easy to believe that we can automatically master the art of writing. But being an excellent writer is much more than knowing how to use words to communicate. We need to know how words interact with each other; how to structure a sentence, paragraph, and passage to create the best effect; how to use various writing techniques to create a powerful and beautiful story. Things like grammar and verb tenses matter. They matter because they help us to understand the building blocks of our craft.

Now, if all of this sounds cold and clinical to you, don't worry. I also believe that writing is an art, full of mystery, magic, and serendipity. I'm not an either-or kind of girl. I believe in both-and. Writing is both a science and an art. An excellent piece of writing is the product of learned skills and natural talent. The process of writing is something to be examined and enjoyed.

As we explore the nature of writing here In The Word Cellar, I hope you'll remember this: You can learn to be a better writer. I can't do anything about your natural level of talent, and frankly, neither can you. So why worry about it now? Besides, we're terrible judges of our own abilities. Let's focus on the parts we can control. Let's learn the techniques of good writing, and let's give ourselves over to the joy of creation. By learning about the ingredients, method, and art of writing, each of us can create something lovely.

What do you think? Do you believe creative writing can be taught? Are you ready to learn? Let us know in the comments.

**I'll be answering community questions in the coming weeks. Send your writing questions to jennifer{at}thewordcellar{dot}com with "In The Word Cellar" as the subject line.**

In The Word Cellar runs on the second and fourth Wednesday of the month. Check out other articles in the series here.

Several years ago, as I found my way into this wonderful community of online dreamers, artists, activists, and big-thing-doers, two bloggers became part of my unofficial team of mentors and dream advisors. By sharing their worlds and dreams online, Jen Lemen and Andrea Scher encouraged me to look for and follow my own dreams. When they launched their first Mondo Beyondo online class last August, I was thrilled to be part of it. The course gives you access to a wide and deep community of all levels of dreamers, permission  and space to dream, and substantial resources to encourage and inspire you along the way. Plus, if you click through on the Mondo Beyondo banner above or on the button in the sidebar and register for the course, you'll be helping to support The Word Cellar, as well. The next session starts March 8, just in time for spring, the perfect time to dig into the soil of your soul and plant some dreams to grow in the coming seasons.

I'd wanted a Diana or Holga camera for years. I even blogged about it back in November 2007. Then last March I visited the Lomography store in New York and fell in love with a little black and white number of impish cuteness, a Diana F+ clone named the Snow Cat. Alas, I left the store empty handed, afraid to commit to the plastic world of analog. The camera took medium format film. What was that? Oh, it's the same as 120 film? Um, okay. These kinds of things may be old school, but it was a new world for me.

I fretted over silly what-ifs that I thought were serious issues. What if I couldn't find a good local photo lab to develop this film? (Well then, I'd send it out.) I know I have a low threshold for learning manual, mechanical things. What if I lost patience trying to learn how to choose an aperture and shutter speed? Furthermore, what exactly are aperture and shutter speed? (Okay, I'd just have to learn some new terms and flex my patience muscle.) (I'd learn quite quickly that they're no big deal.) What if I couldn't remember the difference between slide film and negative film? (No prob. I'd make a cheat sheet with all sorts of basic info in my hand dandy Lomo notebook.) What if I didn't like the photos I took? (Or, I could just loosen up and have fun.)

This past December, I helped myself to the world of analog, even though I still didn't know where I'd develop the film, had no idea what an aperture was, or how to remember the difference between types of film. But the Snow Cat arrived, I made that cheat sheet, I allowed myself to be a beginner, and started snapping old school photos.

On my first roll of 16 images, only 10 came out. (It appears that six of them were too over- or underexposed to make out anything but a black or white square. ) Of those ten, I like about half, and  love two or three of them. I'd say that's pretty good for a beginner with a cheat sheet and a whole slew of lenses and accessories still waiting to be explored. Let the Lomo adventure continue!

Tell me in the comments how you're allowing yourself to play and be a beginner. Or maybe you long to try something new. What would you do if you weren't fretting?

In that spirit of creative community, I'm starting a twice-monthly feature called In The Word Cellar. On the second and fourth Wednesday of the month, we'll explore your writing questions and dilemmas. We'll talk about living the creative life and what that means for different people. I'll offer tips and techniques that I use in my own writing and editing. We'll create together by writing along to prompts from time to time. There will be other goodies and surprises along  the way, so stay tuned! 

I'd like to kick off this new feature with an announcement and an invitation.

First, the announcement. I'm thrilled to be speaking at this year's BlogHer conference in New York City, August 6 & 7. I'll be part of a Writing Lab panel called "How to Use Your Blogging to Make You a Better Writer."

Here's the panel description: "This session is about discipline and practice. Which tips and tricks can you use to turn your blog into in-progress and public writing practice? We'll discuss writing prompts, long-form, short-form, essays, humor pieces and more. Your blog can be both journal and portfolio."

For more information and to register, visit the BlogHer conference website. I'll share more information about the panel as it's available.

Now, the invitation. I'm inviting you to submit your questions about writing for In The Word Cellar. These can be general writing questions or those that relate specifically to blogging.

• Do you have questions about grammar, form, or general writing techniques?
• What would you like to do better in your own writing?
• Is there some aspect of writing that remains a mystery to you? 
• What part of the writing or editing process drives you crazy or stumps you time and time again?

Please email your questions to jennifer[at]thewordcellar[dot]com with "In The Word Cellar" in the subject line.

I'm looking forward to seeing you In The Word Cellar!

My husband often says, "Once you do something once, it's that much easier to do it again." He applies this to situations good and bad. Trying to start an exercise practice? Go to the gym once and you're over the initial hump; it'll be easier to go back. Conversely, once you eat that first donut and derail your healthy eating habits, it's that much easier to eat a half dozen of the sugary circles. (If donuts are your thing, that is. For me, potato chips have become a trigger. Keep those salty little bastards away from me!)

There's a lot of truth in this mindset. And yet, sometimes it just doesn't seem to hold true, even when logic dictates that it should. For me, writing is this way. Some people think that because I write a lot, it comes easily. That should be true. The more I write, the easier writing should become. On one hand, it is true. The more I write, the more I learn about writing and the more I know how to overcome obstacles and have the courage and skills to try new things.

But writing is often a struggle for me. I'm not saying this in a boo-hoo-writing-is-so-hard-woe-is-me kind of way. Let's be honest: In the list of possible careers and activities, writing is a pretty sweet gig. It's not digging ditches or being an accountant -- necessary but dreadful tasks. (Full disclosure: My husband wants to be an accountant.)

I've been avoiding writing lately. I've been thinking about writing a lot, at least once every hour. But I keep putting off sitting down and stringing words together. Even after six years of freelancing, four years of blogging, and seven months of graduate school deadlines, I'm afraid of writing. When I get into this headspace, I let the fear get in the way of the joy.

I love words and the beauty of language so much that sometimes I can barely stand to touch them. During the last semester of my MFA program, I discovered new wells of words within myself. This resulted in some of the best things I've ever written. Most of those pieces still need work, but they are beautiful and I adore them. But I've let them become too precious, because now I'm afraid touch them. I wrote something so lovely that I've intimidated myself. Isn't that sweet and utterly absurd?

For each of my paragraphs that make me swoon, I've written hundreds that make me cringe. For each line that sings, there are thousands that have croaked. I know enough now to know that this is all part of the process. I know there is nothing to fear, and yet I let myself fret.

I'm sharing this with you in case you look at other artists and envy their work and what you perceive as their natural talent and ease. I certainly do this too often. Remember: We usually only see the glorious, final product, not the labored, crazy-making effort that came between start and finish.

Julia Cameron, author of The Artist's Way, offers a helpful perspective on making art. She tells God: "You take care of the quality; I'll take care of the quantity." Author Elizabeth Gilbert says much the same thing about her Muse in the video above (which I've featured on this site before). I'm going to watch it again, and then I'm going to push past fear and write, no matter how I feel about it.

I'm working on becoming a better writer. For me, this means not only improving the craft of my writing, but also improving the process of my writing practice so that I find -- and stick with -- a practice that works for me.

What creativity-suppressing gremlins are you dealing with today? I invite you to share them in the comments. Simply naming them can take away much of their power over you.

I'm pleased to be part of this auction to benefit kids in Haiti. I'm offering a copy of Lanterns (along with the goodies you'll find in the Light & Love package that I announced yesterday.) Even if you've already donated to help people after the earthquake in Haiti, please consider directing some of your secret squirrel money to the auction. (What's secret squirrel money? You know, that little account you squirrel away -- or steal from! -- to buy irresistible handmade stuff online.) There are loads of amazing items in the auction. The auction closes at midnight EST on Monday, February 8, 2010, and all the information you need is on the To Haiti with Love site.

Here in southwestern Pennsylvania, February days are short and grey, and even the overcast sunlight lies around, listless and tired. The weather is one thing, but my internal climate has been downright glum for a few days. January and February are not easy on the psyche, but I'm determined to get back my joy this month.

In case you're having a similar bout of the blues, I've decided to pour some honey on these slow, gloomy days by offering a sweet treat to infuse your mailbox (and heart) with light and love. First of all, copies of Lanterns: A Gathering of Stories are on sale for $15 each (normally $18). So if you've been waiting to get this six-by-six-inch square of goodness, now is a great time. Lanterns is 50 pages of gorgeous black and white photography, inspiring poetry, and encouraging prose. This curated collection takes an honest look at  living the creative life and celebrates the art-and-soul-sisters who help to light our way.

But here's the icing on top of the cupcake: If you (or someone you love) need an extra dose of sweetness and light, check out the new Lanterns Light & Love package. For just $20, you'll get this lovely bundle:

• one signed copy of Lanterns: A Gathering of Stories;
• one 5"x7" color print of "The Chocolate Room" (see photo above);
• an audio recording of the book's opening poem, "Oceans Vast: A Blessing," by Rachelle Mee-Chapman
• a handwritten love note; and
• a sweet treat, all thoughtfully packaged.

This set includes a print of the photo at the top of this post, which I took during a visit to Brooklyn to see Lanterns contributor Jen Lee. This cozy "chocolate boutique and dessert café" is home to the best chocolate cake I've ever eaten. Jen's daughter, a sophisticated first grader who knows what she likes, called the treats there "delish." When a six-year-old uses words like that to describe chocolate, you know it's good.  And just look at this place: even the counters are like warm, rich slabs of chocolate drenched in caramel. The photo is good enough to lick.

But don't lick your screen. Head on over to the shop to get your helping of light, love, and chocolate.