Let's Play and Write and Create Together
August Salons are all about Creative Play 👀
Dear Creative Beauties,
A toot-toot for August's special salon theme: Creative Play / Playful Writing. The photo above is an example of what we might use as a creative jumping-off point:
Words, Colors, Textures, Body Parts, First-Lines. Take these on your joyride into the frontier of CHANCE and MAGIC. This is what happens when we sit down, pick a few helpers off the tree of creativity and GO. The August Playful Writing/Creating (yes I keep changing the name) is cross-training for the creative act, a way to get out of your head and do the creative art you aspire to.
If you are a creative type (in any discipline)—and I am here to say we’re all creative, but differently so—and if you are someone who wants to exercise this creativity, explore, loosen up, not take your art/life/work so seriously, connect with others or just see what the hell playful writing is like, THIS SALON HAS YOUR NAME ON IT.
I’m offering this four / five Tuesdays in August. Come to as many as you wish.
Playful Writing/Creative Salons 💥
Starts August 1
4/5 Tuesdays in August
9 - 10 am PDT
Register here, on Zoom
We're going to spend four 1-hr sessions writing (or whatever else you want to do) from a prompt, shredding struggling-artist myths, and setting you up with a playful toolkit of your own.
Let's experience the mystery, the magic, the synchronicity, the exploration, the je-ne-sais-quoi that transpires when we touch pen to paper and are ready for ANYTHING TO HAPPEN.
This is for paid Beauty Hunter subscribers, *or* anyone interested in / registered for the Creators' Circle that starts in September: You can subscribe for one month at $8, with one free trial month, get an entire month of playful writing, then cancel (and stay as a free subscriber)--and what a deal, eh? I almost spend that much on my morning coffee.
CHECK IT OUT: Here’s what I wrote from the playful prompt, below. It took me under 90 seconds, in which time I created a world, and met some people I’d never seen before. Just like that. Chance, magic. You can too.
When I was a heartbeat, the cotton was three sheets to the wind. And so was my dad, which wasn’t the most clear-skied day on which to be born. Little did I know that when I was cleared to return home, swaddled in some kind of red cotton cling-on, that my mom would pick me up when I was a heartbeat away from sleep and take me from this house. We left this man who snored and cooked eggs and we drove away in a clunky vehicle until the skies were blue and clear.
P.S. Thank you Liz for the gift of Paint Chip Poetry. XOOX
