I feel deep gratitude that my life allows me to write, to be in community with writers, to support writers, and to bring writing into the world. And part of being in writing community—writing with and alongside others—is knowing intimately how much can undercut and derail us as writers. Many pressures weigh on our writing and ourselves as writers. And, as writers, we often need inspiration to bring us back to writing.
So, this post shares a form of inspiration: affirmations or mantras for writers. My hope is that these mantras may be a form of support—like buoys lifting us up—whenever we get stuck or doubt ourselves or feel shut down or otherwise face “writer’s block.”
In times of struggle, you might read the mantras below. Or listen to me reading them aloud.
And if you’d like to write in community, join the weekly writing group or a one-day writing retreat. I’m also here if you’d ever like one-with-one writing support. Reach out anytime.
Mantras for Writers
I am a writer.
Whenever I doubt myself, I begin with this acknowledgement, affirming for myself that I am always already a writer. I can release as many times as I need to anything that has made me doubt that. And I remember—and affirm—that I am a writer.
I take note of what I need to support my full self—my full person—because I am a writer in a body, in relationships, and in the world. Writing can only emerge from me when I am well-tended, too. I care for myself, and that care flows into my writing. I am a writer when resting, when moving, and when living.
I reparent the younger versions of myself as a writer who was quieted, tamed, and controlled in ways that restrained the loud and free “outside voice.” In reparenting, I re-embrace inner knowing about who I am and what I have to say.
I am a writer.
I get to know myself as a writer, asking about what I want and need as a person to bring this writing into the world. I am curious about who I am as a writer in this season of life, knowing that what I need now may be very different than what I needed before or may need in the future. It may be different than what I’ll need with another project or in another iteration of myself.
I show up for my writing at the paces—and in the times and spaces—possible for me now. In this season of life, I release old patterns and worn-out expectations. I find ways to work aligned with my current self and the many pulls on my time and attention. How I am writing is how I am writing.
I write with and alongside my relations. I relate with trusted readers and writers, knowing that I am never writing alone. I hold in my heart and acknowledge often those who have come before me and those who will come after. In doing so, I act with response-ability, responding as part of a chorus. Yes, I have something to say, and I will say it. And, yes, I am not alone in that saying. I am never alone.
I am a writer.
I infuse my writing with inherent vitality, and, in turn, the writing shares its life-giving capacity.
I release anything that undermines creative nurturance. When I am playing small or hiding away, I surround myself with other writers and writings. I remind myself that my words invoke a spell of protection. And I again embrace creative desires and the call to write.
I listen to the creative and sometimes quiet nudges within, trusting the callings that emerge and ask for attention. I listen for the creative sparks and spirits. They are all around me, so I remain open and curious to what and who comes forward.
I am not alone in writing, but in a creative dance with intuition, inspiration, and magic beyond my knowing that asks me to act as a channel. And I dance in partnership. When I feel alone in writing, I turn both inward—to speak and listen to callings—and outward—toward the larger conversations this writing will join.
I fuel my creative fires, knowing that no fire can stay alight without fuel. That means that I allow myself time to follow inspirations, to read, to listen, to witness, and to be in the world.
I approach my writing with an attitude of both/and: both knowing that it’s incredibly important and incredibly inconsequential. When it helps to remember my commitment to writing, I do remember. And I rise to the call to create. When it helps to remember that it’s all play and of my own choosing, I do remember. And I lower the stakes. I flow with the energy that’s needed moment-to-moment, starting again as many times as needed.
I say it again: I am a writer.
I return again and again to my commitments as a writer, asking the “why?” behind each bit of writing and remembering that writing is part of ongoing creative interventions.
I show up for these commitments by returning again and again. I release any sense that faster or more writing is better. To nourish my writing, I sit with silence and allow breathing room, not rushing or crushing the work.
I smile, therefore, when I’ve cut more than I’ve added or written only scratched-down notes. And I value my relationship with each project. The writing accompanies me while folding laundry or reading at bedtime or taking a walk. I know that writing takes time. And attention. And energy. And it exceeds any metrics for counting when or how it is taking place. To write is to be writing in many ways and shapes. I get curious instead of judgmental about how writing is happening now.
I smile, too, at the ways that writing is changing me. Each word, typed or handwritten, brings me into new versions of myself as a writer and as a person. Through writing, I live out and bring into being many desires, possibilities, and iterations of myself. I open to what the writing has to teach me.
I affirm myself as a writer, time and time again. As many times as it takes, I repeat:
I am a writer.
I am a writer.
I am a writer.
Journal Prompts
Having read these mantras—and perhaps even repeated them to yourself—what additional ones might you add?
One friend told me she’d add mantras to recognize that she’s alive as a writer when making lists, signing forms, and revising recipes—in other words, when deeply engaged in everyday life writing.
Another friend told me she’s imagining how the writing will pass through many portals, along the lines of time travel. As a writer, her core mantra is that the writing will live beyond her hands and have a life of its own. She imagines how it will be received by readers, getting curious about who it might reach and who needs it in their lives.
Mantras can act as amulets, protecting us and what we love. In this case, mantras for writers hopefully provide inspiration and fuel for continued writing.
So, what affirmations might lift or support you now?
Write some of your own, beginning with these prompts:
Today, I am a writer by ___________________ …
Tomorrow, I will continue writing by ___________________ …
Whenever I struggle with writing, I remember ___________________ …
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This post is written by Beth Godbee, Ph.D. (she/her) for Heart-Head-Hands: Everyday Living for Justice.
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- “Begin the New Year with a Writing Group”
- “Questions for Honoring Creative Energy and Play”
- “Recommitting and Reconnecting With Your Writing”
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