Today, I’m writing all about negative thoughts. Doubts. Nitpicking. Downward spirals. A house of cards that implodes the second you touch it.

With that in mind, the activity for this blog post — skipping stones — was something that I never actually did as a kid, but it’s always been something that I’ve wanted to do and I associate it with memorable childhood experiences. It took some convincing (with my inner dialogue) that it even deserved a place on the list.

I did spend a lot of time near water as a kiddo, growing up next to Lake Michigan and frequently camping near Wisconsin lakes in the summers. But skipping stones on the water was never really something I did. I swam a lot. I jumped off rope swings. Canoed. But skipping stones was either never on my mind or it was something I was intimidated by.

Baby Ellen near a Loch in Scotland.

I made sure it ended up on the list because it still intimidates me! I’ve tried to skip stones over the years and have failed, mostly just throwing rocks into the water and watching them sink immediately, usually accompanied with a dramatic and insulting splash. But part of this blog and the experiences associated with it are about facing the fear of failure and pushing through.

Back in January of this year, I was chosen to attend a writer’s workshop in Hawaii, on the big island. I submitted two chapters of my WIP novel and was selected, along with a small group of other fiction writers, to spend 5-days honing my craft, receiving and giving feedback on my work, and learning about the writing and publishing business.

My immediate reaction — I don’t deserve this.

The negative thoughts rushed in at warp speed. I’m not a good enough writer. I don’t have anything to offer other writers. Maybe they made a mistake. Maybe this is a pity choice. Maybe I should say no.

Imposter syndrome is so real for me when it comes to my writing, especially my creative writing since it stems from my own reality (or my dream reality). It’s pretty easy for me to write these blog posts — it’s more or less a stream of consciousness activity, minimal edits or rewrites. And people continually tell me that they like reading my posts, even get something out of them sometimes for themselves (that’s the dream).

Literally the best feedback I could ever receive.

But when it comes to my fiction — I still am unconvinced that I’m any good.

I know that I have a wild imagination. My dreams alone could create multiple series of hit books, I’m sure of it.

But I have so little “formal” training when it comes to writing. For someone who grew up in an education-is-god household, it’s hard to believe that you can be good at anything without learning from a professional. Even if you do it all the time, have people telling you that you are actually good at it, and if you really enjoy doing it. There’s little space for logic when it comes to imposter syndrome.

But, there I was, with an acceptance letter, saying that I am good enough to work with published and prolific authors. Little kid Ellen, always searching for accomplishments and validation, was so pleased.

Derek and I made a mini-vacation out of the opportunity, spending a couple days in Volcanoes National Park ahead of time. We were excited to walk on dormant volcanoes, see active volcanoes, and spend time outside in a new environment.

The first bit of negativity arrived when we had to interact with other humans.

Yay, humanity! 🙌

I will one day write a short story about the existential irony of witnessing hundreds of tourists watching a live volcano spew lava right in front of their eyes, creating new land literally right in front of them… and they choose to *loudly* tell each other about how their AirBnB didn’t have coffee packets included. Pisces Ellen stared and cried and had big feelings because WE ARE INSIGNIFICANT ON THIS PLANET DON’T YOU GET IT?! But most people aren’t ready to feel those feelings so instead they debate whether or not they should wear normal shoes or hiking boots for their excursion the next day.

Le sigh.

WE ARE NOTHING COMPARED TO THE UNIVERSE, said the human with big emotions.

I should also mention that my big emotions were even more monstrous than normal because my dog, Zeb, was suffering from seizures for the first time in his life. Leaving my mom alone with him to watch him and figure out what to do about that hurt my soul and made me ache to be home and take care of him. (My mom is literally the hero of this story though. Zeb hasn’t had a seizures in over three months because she took him to the vet multiple times to accurately diagnose him. ❤️)

Before the retreat even began, the trip was shrouded with negativity.

When it was time to head across the island to the remote location of the retreat, Derek and I tried to vow to each other to make the best of it, even though we were kind of over the whole place.

Here’s my critique of the retreat so you can get the full picture:

Pro: gained 1000% more confidence in my writing abilities via feedback from fellow writers and the group leader (a published author) 💪
Pro: made a few very strong and meaningful connections with inspiring writers that I continue to keep in touch with to this day 🔗
Pro: was able to pitch my novel to one of the best literary agents in the country, and he said to send him the manuscript once it’s done! 🏆
Pro: we saw whales breeching in the ocean from the hotel grounds every day 🐳
Con: the retreat focused a lot on the business of publishing and writing (which was insightful), but had next to nothing of improving our craft as writers (what I really need/want) ✍️
Con: the hotel was old, not well-taken- care-of, and extremely dirty 🏚
Con: we didn’t have a rental car and were very secluded 🚗
Con: Derek didn’t have anything to do while I wrote for half the day 🥸
Con: California is better than Hawaii (imho), and we were both really, really homesick from the get go 🦦

Because the location of the retreat was so terrible, Derek and I seriously considered calling it quits and going home to be with our sick dog and sleep in our own (clean) bed. I cried the first night we were there because I was so overwhelmed.

However, we stuck it for just one day and things started to feel better. It helped when we formed an inside joke that whenever something was so awful about the hotel (water-damaged walls in our room, sub-par food, a hot tub that didn’t work), we would look at each other and say, “Four stars!” …because somehow this hotel was listed as a “4-star resort” on Google. (It is NOT.)

The general schedule-of-event for the week was: time to work with other writers during the mornings, planned excursions for everyone in the afternoons.

Impossibly, we made it to the third day of the retreat. The day when my work was being critiqued by the group, and the day when we were promised a black sand beach excursion.

Yes, please!

After reconsidering the trip a hundred times a day, Wednesday felt better. We kept our eyes on the prize — we wanted time at a beach and away from being trapped in a dingy resort.

The hike to actually get to the beach was decently challenging (super steep), but man oh man, the views were incredible and the beach was idyllic.

Views from the top.

Views from the bottom.

We were thankful that our two favorite other people on the trip, Eric and Marcia, were there with us. Eric was in my fiction writers group, and his wife Marcia joined him, similar to how Derek tagged along with me.

We all enjoyed the dramatic change of scenery from our busted hotel, and without any prompting, Derek and Eric both began skipping stones in a river that fed into the ocean.

My heart. 🥰

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This is everything.

Watching my husband, who just hours ago was miserably trying to watch videos on YouTube with the hotel’s ancient internet connection, pick up stones and effortlessly skip them across the water made all of my frustration with the trip melt away. Then, seeing Eric, a grown-ass man in his 60s follow suit! Ugh. They were so freaking adorable! And they giggled! The two of them let their inner stone-skipping child free, putting aside any of the misery they had just been experiencing.

It honestly made me the happiest I had been in a while.

And c’mon, what a perfect moral of the story.

As adults, we get caught up in the details and nuances that make us upset. Yes, the hotel sucked, and yes, we wanted to go home. But we had been focusing so much on those negatives that we could have missed the positives.

I remember hearing at some point that during any given day, your brain processes over 50,000 thoughts, which.. whoa. But more interestingly, of those 50k thoughts, 70–80% are negative!

Ouch.

Why are we so harsh on ourselves and those around us? What do we miss out on when we focus on the cons and not the pros?

Derek and I survived the rest of the trip thanks to that excursion. We didn’t spend as much time wallowing in our room. We connected more deeply with the other participants. We reminded ourselves that we are absolutely in love with our home and community in California. We remembered what a good team we make when we stick together and make life into a big game.

And yes, I skipped stones with Derek and Eric.

Once.

And it didn’t work.

But I wasn’t embarrassed.

I also wasn’t going to force something that probably should never have been on my list on the first place. 😜✌️