My prompt for this newsletter was to write about the prompts in Slowing, but I have to be honest: the words aren’t coming easily. It’s difficult for me to write in the heat of the summer (lately, I can only share what’s in the heat of the moment). So I’ve been “writing” this process diary without a pen. Ideas have been languishing in my mind, bumping up against each other until a letter finds a friend and a word is formed. A single word can be a complete sentence. But is it a complete thought?
The word I’m circling in this case is help. It has sat next to a period, a question mark, and an exclamation point (sometimes all in one day). It has made its way into questions like: Was that a helpful comment? You just can’t help yourself, can you? What will help make this—story, day, country, life—better?
The saying goes, put on your own oxygen mask first before helping others. But help is an axis, reorienting us inward or outward, depending on the day. I found myself at the center of it as I wrote Slowing, seeking personal support while putting words down that could potentially aid those on the other side of the page. What questions did I wish people were asking me during this beautiful but complicated period? What practices were I finding most helpful, and could they be valuable to someone else? As poet Victoria Chang mentioned in our recent podcast interview, “If I'm not talking to someone, it just strikes me as being odd. … So I'm making a piece of art, but I'm usually in correspondence with many, many other things.”
I didn’t initially set out to write a book that could be considered categorically self-help, but in addition to sharing my (slow) stories—and the stories of those I interviewed—I wanted to include an element that could help readers find or rewrite their own. (Especially in a time of great strife, uncertainty, and loneliness.) Prompts seemed like the perfect addition to Slowing’s offering, a way of saying: I’ve shared, and they’ve shared, and now here’s a chance for you to share something, too.
While we’re on the subject of sharing: I ask a lot of questions, though I still have a hard time asking for help. But through this process, I’ve found the best starting point is storytelling. I honor the space it provides to slow down and reflect. Maybe that’s the case for you, too. Maybe, like me, there are things you want to ask for, discuss, or reimagine but don’t know where to begin.
There are no signs that the heat wave will break any time soon, but the inner fog is slowly lifting, and this is what I’ll leave you with… A word can be a sentence and sometimes a thought. A book is a question and sometimes an answer. I hope the prompts in Slowing help you navigate the creative blocks, the maybes and definites, all of the spaces and stories in between.
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The week-long prompts in Slowing follow each of my essays and touch on the themes explored in those particular stories. They range from journaling to drawing to conversation starters and more. You can choose to complete a single day or the entire week; answer them in solitude or community. Here’s a preview of the many prompts you’ll find in the book…
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AMAZON · BARNES & NOBLE · BOOKSHOP
“A thoughtful, introspective approach to writing, creating, and being aware of one's own intentions. The accessible daily prompts will help both those who are feeling stuck and those who are looking to dive a level deeper into their work. Rachel Schwartzmann has created a new kind of map which can lead us closer to ourselves.”
- Chelsea Hodson, author of Tonight I’m Someone Else
For Your Next Chapter
If you enjoyed this Slowing process diary, check out the previous installments…
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"A book is a question and sometimes an answer." 🖤