Happy New Year, Protagonists! Welcome to our (slightly) new name and logo. In this Letters from the Creative Life post, you can read about what this new name means to us, and what you can look forward to here in the upcoming year. xo, Joanna & Evelyn What does ALIVE mean? Finding my Tentacle and Showing Up All the Way to Life Last year, Evelyn invited me to bring some elements of my creativity coaching to this amazing Substack community. In our collaboration, we decided on a new name: Creative, Inspired, ALIVE. You might be wondering, what the heck does ALIVE mean? And you would not be alone. In fact, I struggled to put “aliveness” into words while drafting this post. Every time I tried to define alive, I got lost in a fog of woo-woo buzzwords— presence, energy, alignment, flow, wholeness—but these words do nothing to help you feel what I mean by ALIVE. I asked a friend, “How do I make this real for readers?” She sighed and answered, “Joanna, you have to tell them about your tentacle.” My eyes went wide, and heat rushed to my cheeks. “No, I can’t possibly write a public post about my tentacle. It’s too cringe, too vulnerable, too sensual.” And then I shook my head, because I know when I have this kind of “no way” reaction, it usually means that’s exactly the way I need to go–the way to my full aliveness. Alright, let’s back up a bit. A few years ago, I found myself stepping out of the vortex that is early motherhood. I understood my capacity as a human to a new depth, yet yearned to rediscover my full self again. I wanted to sink my teeth into my existence. Not just the content of life–job, family, hobbies–but the experience of living. I joined a coaching circle and started the work of seeing my full self (especially the parts I wanted to hide), challenging my stories about the world (especially the ones I clung to), and harnessing my creative power more fully. Then, I read Audre Lorde’s essay, Uses of the Erotic: The Erotic as Power. I picked it up thinking it would help me understand my pull toward writing romance, and found something far deeper. I found a passionate declaration about the power of living life to its fullest, deepest, juiciest core: “For the erotic is not a question only of what we do; it is a question of how acutely and fully we can feel in the doing. Once we know the extent to which we are capable of feeling that sense of satisfaction and completion, we can then observe which of our various life endeavours bring us closest to that fullness.” This is what I wanted to commit to in my next chapter. The power of my deep, creative force that infuses life with passion and meaning, drives authentic action and connection, and challenges mediocrity by demanding fulfillment. So, I made “the erotic embodiment of life” my resolution for 2025. When I explained my New Year’s intention to my friends, I described it like this: I imagine that I have a tentacle, covered in nerve endings, and I wrap it around the people, situations, objects–everything–in my life to feel, taste, smell, experience all of it as fully as I can. Imagine wrapping your tentacle around a piece of chocolate, a loved one’s tears, a sense of accomplishment. Imagine wrapping your tentacle around the words you write, the clay you sculpt, the meals you make. In the first few months, I paid extra attention to all the good stuff—the joy and love in my life—but resisted when difficult circumstances arose. At which point, a wise friend helped me see that I wasn’t showing up to the whole show. Could I find the erotic in the shadow? Could I feel discomfort all the way and see what it had to teach me? So, I started wrapping my tentacle around the challenges—the grief for my father, the crush of an agent’s rejection, the exhaustion of motherhood, the boredom of spreadsheets. And something crazy happened, I started noticing beauty in all those things. I came to feel their essentialness to life. These experiences are what make me whole and perfectly human. While writing this essay, I stumbled upon Ellen Langer’s research at Harvard. In her “I Hate Football” study, she found that asking participants to actively notice new things about an activity they dislike resulted in them enjoying the activity more. And the more they noticed, the more they liked it. Langer says, “We’re brought up to wait for something to excite us…and all of that I think is wrong. Anything can be made exciting.” Mindful engagement helps us enjoy our lives. After a year of living with my tentacle, I got what ALIVE means to me. Alive is paying attention. It’s inhabiting my senses. It’s feeling my body. It’s acknowledging my whole self—the good and the challenging parts. It’s showing up fully in the creation of my life. My tentacle moved me beyond just existing or just doing; it deeply engaged me in whatever I endeavored. And I never felt so creative and inspired. For when you taste the world through your skin, how can you not be moved? How can you not be driven to contribute to it all? A tremendous freedom also came with committing to aliveness because the intention was always in my power to accomplish. External circumstances couldn’t dictate my purpose. In fact, external circumstances often made it more interesting. Sick kid at home today, let me wrap my tentacle around that. Writer’s block won’t go away, ok, what does that feel like? I luxuriated in the texture of my car’s steering wheel and the mix of joy and sadness in seeing my children outgrow their clothes. At the end of the day, I felt a deep sense of accomplishment if I showed up to whatever was. My to-do list could still have items on it, rejection could come, plans could change, but I had a successful day as long as I paid attention. In a short time, my aliveness started to feed back into my work. I not only showed up fully to the page, but my fullness started showing up on the page. I had access to more life to create with. I felt inspired by the simplest things because I noticed them deeply. It felt as if the entire universe showed up simply by my paying attention to it. Creative energy coursed through me. During this year, Evelyn invited me to collaborate in this community. I wrapped my tentacle around the opportunity and proposed expanding from Creative, Inspired, HAPPY to Creative, Inspired, ALIVE. Evelyn said, “Yes!” While kindness and optimism are guiding values here, we also wanted to make room for the multitude of experiences that arise as we persist on our creative journey. We aim to be present with whatever shows up as we make our art and share it. So, what does ALIVE mean? Alive means being present to life in this very moment. It means allowing the wholeness of ourselves, not shutting down any of our parts, but staying open to all that is–the joy and grief, the ease and challenge, the boredom and inspiration. To be with all of it. With aliveness in the mix, we are adding some pieces to our program this year. In addition to our beloved writing and reading content, we’ll offer some new elements to support the fullness of our creativity practices. We hope you enjoy: * Some non-fiction selections about the creative process in our Book Club * Mini coaching sessions to reflect on and embrace our full creative selves * Wisdom from creativity experts, in addition to authors, on the Podcast * Reflective creativity prompts in the Community Chat * And *new* interactive creativity workshops coming this Spring and Fall! We are thrilled to start this new year together in our creative, inspired, ALIVE community. Get your tentacle out and let’s live! Share with us what ALIVE means to you. Have you ever had a tentacle experience? What parts of life could you show up to more fully? What feels alive for you this New Year? P.S. I just started reading The Favorites for our Book Club meeting on January 25th. Swirling inside the world of ice dancing and a Wuthering Heights retelling, yes please! Has anyone else started too? This is a public episode. 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