Alexandra Shimo

Healing Through Play creative writing agency

On an unexpectedly warm afternoon in February 2021, I had a Toronto meeting that would change my life, or at least my life for the next half decade. The meeting was at the downtown Penguin Random House offices, with Anne Collins who was then its executive editor.  Anne had long straight black flyaway hair, pale face, and ice crystal blue eyes, which kinda made her look like a witch, if witches were publishing geniuses, instead of the energy and medicinal healers of old. Needless to say, I worshipped her. 

It's never a good idea to worship your heroes. Or rather, it's totally fine, unless you meet them. That too is okay, unless you speak. But I did all three, and it got me in hot water. 

Anne lavished praise on the small sample of the book emailed to her. The premise was, "incredibly exciting", she said, although it still needed work. The bit she liked best was the "queer love story." 

The queer love story had only appeared in the book's summary. It didn't appear in the book's sample because there was no queer love story. The actual love story between myself and my wife exists but is kinda boring because my wife is allergic to conflict. Fights are over before anyone has donned their boxing muffs. And as we say in the biz, no conflict (inner or outer), no story. 

At some level I knew this. But I think I wrote the words, "queer love story" because I wanted to impress Anne, although that desire wasn't fully conscious. Or maybe because it sounded sexy. It would have been a fabulous book, but it wasn't mine. 

How long it takes you to realize that you are barking up the wrong writing tree is probably a function of how intensely you worship your hero who has suggested said tree. For myself, I also had a slight (maybe slightly more than slight...) crush on Anne, which made things worse. Nevertheless, I still cannot account for the fact that it took me about three and a half years to realize that there was no story anywhere to be found. To write the book that was inside of me, that was mine alone, I had to return to what I had originally been doing, before the infamous meeting, which was an exploration of madness. Not what I thought Anne wanted, which was a queer love story. 

If you spend three and half years writing the wrong book you get to the point that we are in this story.  I had spent 40k of grant money and had precious little to show for it. I was broke, lost, and incredibly depressed. 

My wife Lia did what any good partner should do in such a situation and signed me up for improv classes at Toronto's Second City. This will become relevant if we pause this story, and jump backwards by about one hundred years. 

In the early 20th century, early trauma theorists, such as Sigmund Freud, or Pierre Janet observed that their patients were suffering from traumatic "reminisces" (i.e. big, intense memories). Children, on the other hand, didn't seem to suffer, or at least they didn't suffer in the same way because they had their own in-built processing system: play therapy. When something difficult happened, they acted out roles, they bit things into smaller chunks, they played games. They used play to shift the focus: to change the lens to make the material more manageable, and see things more clearly. 

At some point while jumping about pretending to be a manic, oversized crab, I realized this is what it feels like to listen closely to the situation, and let your intuition guide you. This is what it is like to be fully present with an artistic problem, and trust that what comes out is what needs to be said. This is what it feels like to create not not to impress others but for the simple joy of creation. 

Damn, it felt so good. 

Most writing coaches offer editorial services and a bit of teaching. The Healing Through Play creative writing agency is different. We start from the premise that whatever challenge that you have in your real life shows up as an imprint on the page. Pressed for time? That will often show up on the page as a pacing issue. A people pleaser? That often reveals itself as a faint narrative voice. And so I ask you to do the work, or do the play, outside and inside, in our lessons and in life. I ask you to play, shift the lens, experiment, and see what happens. 

We might do that through a writing exercise. Or a bit of improv. Or a Buddhist healing ceremony. Or psychic poetry. Whatever you need to get to the next stage. Whatever works. I have been studying Buddhist, and other healing modalities from monks, elders, and creative writing teachers for fifteen years, and I bring these to the table. 

I did finish that book, The Weight of a Secret, a couple of years after I awoke to the fact that I had to trust my own voice. It's currently out on submission. I may stick a manic, oversized crab on the cover. 

Love 

Alex 

PS Manuscript evaluation is often part of the process. But my responsibility is to the writer, as well as the work. In other words, I coach and teach as we co-create a bigger, more coherent, and expansive text. 

PPS The first session is FREE!