the new moon in taurus for writers
the new moon in taurus for writers
you can't "hack" creativity
I’ve been wanting to write a letter like this for some time. It has become clear that it is essential for me to reaffirm the vital, central beliefs about creativity here at astrology for writers which I assume to be obvious, but which the unsubscribes tell me is not. The New Moon in Taurus — generative, seed planting, with Jupiter’s added abundance — feels as supportive and synchronistic a time as any, in that the methodical, things take the time they take nature of Taurus is so in line with the ethos of this newsletter.
Here’s the thing: creativity is not something that can be “hacked.” There is an abundance of astrology apps available these days — and I would know, I helped create and build several of them — so I can appreciate how a newsletter entitled astrology for writers might give the impression that I would be providing y’all with a similar service. Perhaps a, “The moon is in Gemini; be sure you pitch editors today!” type announcement. (This kind of thing is contained to the month aheads.)
At the risk of being overly blunt: If you are expecting a perfectly tailored solution for your writers’ block, or a streamlined, capitalist-friendly solution that uses astrology as ~branding~, this is not the right place for you.
If you’re here to “hack” your writing routine with astrology, this is also not the right place for you.
However.
If you believe, or even are simply open to, the idea…
that creativity is an inherently spiritual practice
that our creative practices demand that we be in relationship with the natural world around us
that astrology as a practice also ultimately brings us into greater mindfulness with the world around us
and that, consequently, paying attention to the cosmos can help us better attune to our creative selves
Then this is the place for you.
Nothing I teach, write, or provide readings about has the goal of being a quick fix, because if I’ve learned anything in my years of building a career and publishing a book with a Big 5, it’s that there is no quick fix in the publishing industry, anyway.
Capitalism thrives on selling us every quick fix in the book — but at the end of the day, it turns out, we still have to do the fucking work.
So why not do the kind of work that is soul filling in the first place?
My ethos with astrology for writers, and with all my writing classes, is centered on relationship: with the self, with the body, with our pasts, with our creative selves, with the stories we tell ourselves about ourselves. In this, my teachers are my ancestors and the birds outside my window, Mercury and Saturn themselves as much as they are Julia Cameron (The Right to Write, The Artist’s Way), Elizabeth Gilbert (Big Magic), Mary Oliver (everything), and Robin Wall Kimmerer (Braiding Sweetgrass).
I’ve been doing 3rd house writing routine readings for a month or so now, and I have spoken far more with clients about finding safety in the body than about getting up at a certain time to write, more about honoring their natural elemental rhythms than their ideal word count. To me, building a sustainable relationship with our creativity is one that divests as much as is possible from capitalist standards of “productivity.”
Because — and this is the irony — the more you invest in the relationship with creativity, which is to say, with your projects and with yourself as an artist, and the more you divest from arbitrary markers like “word count”... the stronger and more resilient your creative wellspring becomes.
It’s like any relationship, you know?
What you invest in grows. This is a metaphor from the fields that capitalism has taken for its own purposes. But it belies the truth of the fields, of Taurus’ wisdom: that what we invest in often grows slowly, which is to say, on its own time.
Some plants spring up suddenly when it’s their time: yesterday, there was barely a bud, and today — lilac bushes have lit the land with lavender flowers. Still others need years of tending before they will yield grapes from the vine, or sap from the bark: and this is the waiting game, of trusting everything that is happening that we cannot see, the infinitesimal changes invisible to the naked eye or the conscious mind.
Patience is another way of saying that we are tending, that we are paying attention, that we are sitting mindfully with the world around us — and with our good and honest work.
Writing Prompts for the New Moon in Taurus
The New Moon is exact at 28* of Taurus at 11:53am on May 18th. Also in Taurus: abundant Jupiter, communicative Mercury, and rebellious Uranus. So many seeds can be sown this weekend.
What intentions are you planting? What writing project(s) are you beginning?
What are you shaking up (in your creative routine/expectations)?
What are you tending, or continuing to tend, and how can you pour abundance and attention into it? How can you pour into yourself, creatively? (Input/output!)
What are you waiting for? (and also… what are you waiting for?)
I have three one-day writing seminars coming up, geared to craft and/or the business of publishing:
for nonfiction writers who want to know more about pitching agents and crafting that vaunted email: How to Write a Query Letter (Sunday, May 28, 1-2p Eastern)
for fans of maggie nelson and melissa febos who want to figure out how to blend multiple forms in their own writing, Writing the Hybrid Memoir (Sunday, June 11, 1-3p Eastern)
for writers of personal narrative struggling with feelings of guilt and doubt, Tell It Slant: Uncovering the Truth in Memoir (Sunday, June 18, 1-3:30p Eastern)
As I’ve said to you (recently!), I’m a late bloomer of the first, and stereotypical Capricorn, order. My being impatient or shitty to myself (or anyone else, for that matter) has never managed to alter the reality that things take as long as they take. Astrology helps me be less salty about it, occasionally gracious, and sometimes even grateful. I know stuff now I didn’t know before. I’m steadier and softer towards myself and other people. I recognize my own weaknesses and bullshit more quickly. All of these things make my writing better.
Also, as a serious astrologer, sometimes you have to call bullshit on what folks use astrology for. It’s not gonna tell you what to do or fix things for you. It’s just a language, a way of telling time, and a way of seeing and understanding yourself in a wider symbolic context. The work is still up to you.
Another beautiful message I see in this post is that, in honoring our unique relationship with creativity, we stop comparing ourselves to others and their outputs (another side effect of capitalism). I love the message of knowing ourselves and our own relationship with creativity.