Book release—but not the kind you think

For months and months I had an inkling that Soul Writing wanted to be something more, something less, something different, something else.

I could feel the current iteration of the work dissolving, my grip on it loosening, it wanting to be free. Not to go away, but to evolve. I’d kept it in my little motherly grasp a little too long, and now it was starting to suffocate. We both were.

Still, there was no way - no freaking way in the whole wide wild world - I’d simply open the door and let it walk out. Not without a detailed accounting of what its plans were, what it was intending to do with its life. I couldn’t bear to see it raise its hand in a loving sayonara, hop into its friends beater car and take off, leaving me with no idea when it would be back.

So it had to take matters into its own hands, conspiring with greater forces to liberate itself.

Back when I had first started to feel stirrings about this, without any clear idea of what to do, I’d gotten busy saying prayers for it, for me, for the highest good of all. One prayer was “may all that isn’t essence fall away.” Another was, “Please be really, really clear about what needs to happen, and give me the resources and support to carry it out.”

With the turn of the calendar, things sure started falling away, and that clarity started coming.

The first and biggest development: another healer human across the country got in touch to say that she had trademarked the name Soul Writing over a decade ago. So not only was it legally her term, it would also confuse folks who were looking for her and ended up with me, and vice versa.

Inarguable. Undeniable. Clear. “Soul Writing,” which was only ever a working title that ended up sticking, had to go.

Weirdly, my initial response to this development was… relief?

I know, that can’t be right. I didn’t think so either. I checked again. And again. There it still was. There it has since remained—of course accompanied by lots else, but by far the most prevalent. Because finally, this mysterious ripplings that had lived in the edges of my awareness for a long time were finally taking form.

Not only that—it was all completely out of my control. I hadn’t caused it, and there was nothing I could to except flow with it. (Or fight it, I guess, but it was really, really clear that that would lead nowhere.)

I told this to people. Got a lot of understandable responses of, “wow, good for you for putting a positive spin on this devastating thing.”

Nope. Not a spin. I’m spinning nothing. Nor am I devastated. I “should” be, so I understand why it’s so baffling as to not be believed.

Then there are the folks who see the light in my eyes, mirror it, and we giggle maniacally together in the face of this beautiful mystery.

Anyway. Part of all this was that my book, Soul Writing: Connecting to Essence had to come out of circulation. I know you can’t copyright a book title, but in this case that title refers to a process and a brand and… oh wow, I’m boring myself here. I guess this is me pre-addressing others’ attempts to solve this, because anything that sounds like “we can fix / reverse this” dams up the flow of relief, which, in spite of it making no sense at all, is the place I want to hang. I’m driven - no, compelled - no, called - to keep releasing, to see where it leads.

Releasing. Yes, that’s the point. Releasing the book.

Once I knew it could no longer exist in its current form, I was moved to spend some time with it—work through it, read it, write the prompts—which I’d actually never done myself. It felt like I was honoring it somehow—kind of like sitting at the bedside of a dying loved one. What do you have to say, I wanted to know, about what your life has been? What do you want me to remember? What do you already know about where you are headed?

And it certainly revealed things. It told me how it wanted to be laid to rest: by being given away, chapter by chapter, to whomever can benefit from it.

So for the next little while, that’s what I’ll be doing.

It feels like a way of composting the book, or giving it a gentle sky burial: laying it somewhere beautiful and allowing it to feed whoever is in the vicinity.

The plan is to release a chapter a week over on my Substack, 8-Minute Essays, in between continuing to feature the astounding writing born of the process formerly known as Soul Writing—which, mind you, is going nowhere. It’ll just be called by a different name: one that has yet to reveal itself.

If this is something that calls to you, you can subscribe for free here. I hope you will enjoy, share, and start - or keep - writing.

And you?

Have you ever had the experience of knowing something had to go, to change and, when you couldn’t do it on your own, had it done for you? How did you navigate it? Maybe explore it with the prompt, “taken away.”

As always, it makes me very happy to see your writing, your remarks, your you-ness in the comments.