Show Notes
Jennie Nash hosts a Write Big session of the #amwriting podcast introducing an “arena” metaphor for writers, inspired by Brené Brown’s Daring Greatly (and Teddy Roosevelt’s “man in the arena” quote), Priya Parker’s The Art of Gathering, and Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour. Jennie argues that writers, like performers, intentionally gather an audience and should be clear about who they want in the “seats,” what experience they want readers to have, and what energy and feedback they want in return. Using Swift’s deliberate creation of emotionally meaningful, immersive moments and audience delight, Nash urges writers to stop playing safe, claim full creative power, and step into the spotlight with purpose. She emphasizes that internal satisfaction comes from making what matters first, and that external rewards follow from writing big, not the other way around. Books * Daring Greatly by Brené Brown * The Art of Gathering by Priya Parker #AmWriting is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.
Transcript Hi, I’m Jennie Nash, and you’re listening to the #amwriting podcast, the place where we help writers of all kinds play big in your writing life, love the process, and stick with it long enough to finish what matters most. This is a Write Big session, where I’m bringing you short episodes about the mindset shifts that help you stop playing small and write like it matters. Today I’m talking about a concept that I haven’t spoken much about before, and it’s a big one for me, and it might take a bit of explaining. The concept is a metaphor, and it has to do with an arena, with being a writer in an arena. And if the image that just came to your mind involves gladiators and bloody battles, that’s not what I’m talking about. What I’m talking about is Taylor Swift. So think of someone who gathers the people to them, who owns the spotlight and captivates the heart and soul of their fans with [00:01:00] intentional content that they make, and who’s so fearless about their work that they’re not gonna let anyone or anything stop them from doing it. Writing doesn’t happen on big stages or in big stadiums obviously, but we’re gonna borrow this image because it’s the vibe I want writers to cultivate, and it’s the heart of writing big. My arena metaphor has a lot of origins. The most obvious one is the quote at the beginning of Brené Brown’s book Daring Greatly, where she’s referencing the Teddy Roosevelt quote about the man in the arena. That Roosevelt quote had to do with politics and not standing on the side and criticizing others, but stepping into the fray and being part of the mix. And what Brené Brown said was this: “If you are not in the arena getting your ass kicked on occasion, I am not interested in or open to your feedback. There are a million cheap seats in the world today filled with people who will never be brave with their own lives, [00:02:00] but will spend every ounce of energy they have hurling advice and judgment at those of us trying to dare greatly. Their only contributions are criticism, cynicism, and fear-mongering. If you’re criticizing from a place where you’re not also putting yourself on the line, I’m not interested in your feedback.” These are obviously powerful words, especially coming from a woman, because I think it’s true that women who dare greatly get more criticism than men who do. So that’s one of the influences for this metaphor. But another is the book The Art of Gathering by Priya Parker. If you haven’t read this book, I highly recommend it. It’s about this whole idea of gathering people, and she’s talking about physically gathering them in meeting rooms and at weddings and at Thanksgiving and things like that. And her main point is that you have to be intentional about the purpose of your gathering. If you don’t know why you’re bringing people together and what experience you want them to have- They’re [00:03:00] not gonna have an experi
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When you open a book, what are you actually looking for? Sure, we want a good story or useful information. But at a deeper level, most of us read because we’re looking for a mirror. We want someone who has wrestled with the hard, messy realities of being human and figured out something we haven’t quite articulated for ourselves yet. That’s why there’s nothing more frustrating—as a reader, as a book coach, and as a human—than reading a book where the writer holds back. In this Write Big session, I’m talking about a concept that blew my mind while listening to grief expert David Kessler on the Mel Robbins podcast. He spoke about the idea of “half-felt feelings” in relation to grief and emotional processing. The second I heard that phrase, I knew it was the exact diagnosis for what happens when a writer hesitates on the page: * In fiction, it shows up as characters who are only halfway experiencing their stakes. * In memoir, it’s a protagonist who protects themselves instead of being vulnerable. * In nonfiction, it’s an author who is so focused on sounding like a polished authority that they strip away the deep human heart of their topic. When we hold back, equivocate, or hedge our bets, we become emotionally stingy with our audience. But our job as writers isn’t just to arrange words; our real medium is human emotion. In this episode, I challenge you to look closely at your current draft and ask: Where am I settling for half-felt feelings, and where can I go deeper? The goal is to stop being afraid of what’s scary to say, step into real vulnerability, and write pages that actually resonate. #amwriting is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.
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I want to take you inside my favorite yoga studio in Santa Barbara. It’s called Yoga Soup, and it’s a giant, grounding mix of movement, actual nutrient-dense soup in a crockpot, fresh fruit from local trees, and community. My husband Rob and I practice there a few times a week, and one of our favorite instructors—who is also a middle school English teacher—starts every class by reading a poem. She weaves its themes throughout our practice and reads it again at the end. Now, I’ll be honest with you: these classes are often equal parts healing and deeply unsettling for me. Why? Because I’m in there without a notebook or phone, frantically trying to memorize brilliant lines so I don’t lose them! A few weeks ago, she read a poem by Mary Oliver called “Today” from her 2012 collection A Thousand Mornings. One line hit me like a bolt of lightning: “Today I’m flying low, and I’m not saying a word. / I’m letting all the voodoos of ambition sleep.” I spent the rest of the class scrambling to hold onto that concept because the “voodoos of ambition” are my constant companions. They’re the noisy, bossy, pushy engine behind everything I make, write, and build. They drive the desire to “play big.” And if you’re listening to this podcast, I bet your voodoos are pretty loud, too. But as I wrestled with Mary Oliver’s words, a new thought took root: What would happen if we actually let those voodoos take a day off? In this Write Big session, I’m reflecting on: * The double-edged sword of high ambition and why we need energy to drive big work. * Why scrambling to capture every thought is just another “voodoo” in disguise. * How giving your ambition a rest—letting it sink into child’s pose—is actually what allows it to wake up re-energized and full of life. Writing big requires big energy, but it also requires rest. This week, I’m offering you a permission slip to fly low, be quiet as a feather, and let your ambition sleep for a little while. Until next time, stop playing small and write like it matters! #AmWriting is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.
You’ll get a regular Write Big episode tomorrow!
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