What Labyrinths Can Teach You About Writing

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a middle-aged white woman in possession of some savings, must be in want of attending yoga retreats in upstate New York. I am no exception,and have recently found myself at several yoga/meditation/arts facilities that prescribe to a spectrum of spiritual teachings in disparate settings. From fancy the manicured lawns of Massachusetts (yes, I consider everything from the Bronx to Canada to be “upstate”) to the rundown campgrounds of ashrams.

​Yesterday, I stumbled upon a lovely little garden, with a lovely little path. At the center of the garden I spotted a charming Buddha statue. Hmmm, I thought. I would like to sit with that Buddha. So I set out on my goal.

Now, this Buddha statue was only perhaps 15-feet away, but I was not aware that apparently this garden had been designed by that master of geometric art, M.C. Escher. After entering and strolling a bit, I found the path was now leading me away from the Buddha. What the…? Then, I noticed that someone who had entered the garden after me was somehow closer to the middle than I was. What the hell again.

I began to think that this whole thing was a waste of time. I started ruminating on all the other things I could have been doing instead, on how stupid I felt, how tricked. But I kept walking. Eventually my mind calmed and I began to notice how beautiful the trees were. I remembered my grandma and how much she loved to walk through gardens. This made me think of my step-mother, who would love it here, but would not be able to walk the path, as her mobility is very limited. I started to appreciate how lucky I am to have an able and healthy body. This led to a pang of guilt over that morning’s self-flagellation over my metabolism’s recent apathy. I started to appreciate the simple fact that I have the ability—and the desire—to stroll along a garden path. I found myself smiling ridiculously and watching the blue sky, realizing that life really isn't that—BOOM. I was at the Buddha.

I had found the center of the maze. Once there, I wasn't sure what to do. I said a little thank you, made a wish, left an offering. But I soon realized I would rather be walking. So I turned around and headed back through the garden. But, I should clarify. I wasn’t in a typical garden. Gardens like these are called, “labyrinths,” and they are created to be walking mediations.

I found this experience to be very similar to a process we writers often go through. We see a goal—a finished script, an optioned script, a job in the writers room, publication—and we walk toward it. But the path is never a straight one. And, rather than surrendering to the truth of the path and seeing what we learn on the way, we waste much of our time complaining and lamenting the struggle of being a writer. Much of being a writer is walking the path.

I often tell my writers, “Sometimes, you have to walk uptown to catch the downtown train.” The shortest distance between you and success is not a straight line. There is too much you need to learn before you get there.

So, if you feel like you are getting further away from your goal, you are just partway through the labyrinth. If you just keep writing page after page, eventually, you will reach the end. Then, you will realize how beautiful, difficult, and meaningful the journey really was. And hopefully, you will begin again.

Oh yeah, David Bowie…

Remember in the movie Labyrinth when Sarah (played by Jennifer Connelly) realizes that Jareth, the Goblin King (played by David Bowie), is not the all-powerful, one-handed ball-twirling, puppeteer he presents himself to be? She realizes that she is the one giving him her power. Jareth is your self-doubt. You are Sarah. So, the next time your self-doubt says something like, “You should just quit,” lift your head, imagine you are as young and beautiful as 1986 Jennifer Connelly, and say, “You have no power over me.” And wander into the Labyrinth of your script.

For more check out our next round of Meditative Writing and Screenwriting workshops.