This month’s InkWell WordShop explores control. As we write and listen in generative writing groups, we expect surprises and ahas. This topic—control—generates a wildly diverse set of surprises and emotions.
A couple of things that emerged from my own inkwell as we wrote were releasing balloons and swallowing stars.
Releasing Balloons
Writing about letting go of control and releasing attachment to specific outcome, I discovered that this act is not a one-and-done.
I wish my attachment to preserving generational wealth and keeping the farm in the family were a helium balloon. I could release the ribbon tied to it then watch the beloved balloon float into the bright blue void toward the edge of the atmosphere.
But the farm is not a balloon and my attachment is fiercer than a ribbon. The farm is the comfort and soft weight of a kitten curled against my abdomen through the night, and every day, I start over. I have to let go all over again. Letting go is not, in this case, an elimination act. It’s a daily practice.
With practice, I get better at moving through letting go, but it isn’t easier or less heartbreaking.
Swallowing Stars
The other aha for me came during our second writing prompt. The task was titled The Voice That Tries to Stop Me. Leading to the prompt, I reminded participants: We all have inner critics. Julia Cameron calls them the “Censor.” Anne Lamott calls hers “Radio KFKD” — the station that blares self-doubt and ego at the same time. And the prompt: Write a letter to the voice that tries to stop you.
Control and self-doubt are often twins. When we try to control our work, our words, our voices, what we’re really trying to control is the risk of being seen.
This letter to the voice that tries to stop us aims to bring clarity to the relationship between editor (control, ego, resistance) and our inner writer (freedom, creativity, agency). While the editor riddles us with self-doubt as she tries to keep us safe, the writer craves the joy and thrill of self-expression.
How do we make peace with that nagging voice of self-doubt, breathe under the whir of suffocating helicopter control? How do we strike a balance between self-doubt and self-expression?
Here’s part of my letter to Self-Doubt.
The other night I swallowed seven stars in my sleep and I woke with a belly full of dreams. My pen became fire, starlight bled onto the page. You were still sleeping and you woke in a panic, “You swallowed the stars!”
But if I hadn’t, if you had been awake to stop me, the page would have languished white and hungry, the light would have melted into the milky way, and I would still be lost, crouching, beneath your helicopter blade, safe but empty-bellied behind a blank notebook.
Practicing Freedom and Expression in the Face of Control and Safety
Sometimes leaning into agency without ignoring caution feels as risky a high-wire balancing act with no net, but it rarely is fraught with the risk and danger we fear. This act of balance requires mindfulness and, ahem, practice, but it won’t kill us.
Get out and exercise (practice!) your self-expression, let go of control and swallow some stars. You might just wake with a belly full of dreams and ideas.
©Pennie Nichols. All Rights Reserved. 2025
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