THE WORLD GOT WIDER

By Clay Stafford

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For a long time, I believed that anything worth pursuing should come with a clear signal, some sign, momentum, or external confirmation that I was moving in the right direction. I think I was waiting for the circus to come to town. Looking for that exterior confirmation, though, quietly narrowed my world without me even noticing.

I didn’t really understand this belief, this idea that I was essentially performing for others. I didn’t think about it. It wasn’t something I put into words. It just showed up, thoughtlessly, like the morning sun. Unlike the mark of a new day, however, this subconscious belief or need for validation manifested as hesitation, maybe doubt. When no one clapped, no one replied to my desperate phone calls, letters, or emails, or no one offered a word of encouragement or support, I found I slowed down. I started to wait. “Give me a sign,” my needy heart exclaimed. I started second-guessing my map. I equated uncertainty with fear, that I was about to make a mistake.

I don’t know when this thinking began; it may have started in childhood, perhaps reflecting a need for parental approval in a conditionally loved world. The shame is that it shaped my life more than I realized. It made me cautious, even timid, in moments that required courage. Wherever it began and however it grew, this subconscious belief that I needed that validation trained me to seek approval from others rather than to seek direction from within. I couldn’t help but think that when progress was slow, and especially when it stalled, it was proof that I was off track. When I felt something mattered, but yet it demanded so much unapplauded effort, I wondered if I wasn’t forcing something that should not be rather than earning something that should not have to be affirmed.

Somewhere along the way, it hit me. Why? Maturity? God-given insight? Not sure. I know nothing external changed. There were no circus clowns. No breakthrough arrived. But inside me, the moment that my life began to change, the moment that I began to change, was a shift in the limiting belief itself.

Somewhere in my Los Angeles days, I began to notice that the work that mattered most, not only to me, but to others, oddly rarely announced itself. In its inception, in its call to adventure, it made no promises. I didn’t have to wait for the green light to proceed. I didn’t need any person in power to give me some grand confirmation that I had finally found the path. Instead, my life and work began to show up, not with fireworks, but in small, unglamorous ways.

I found I was passionately involved in my work and life when previously I would have told myself to quit. Problems or roadblocks? Instead of avoiding or dismissing them and walking away, I found I started returning to them day after day, living and loving life regardless of who, if anyone, ever noticed. The silence, the fact that no one was even noticing, stopped coming across to me as a warning. The silence became the mental space where my life and work began to live and grow. And from the silence, to my surprise, others began to notice.

“Reassurance” is the key word. I no longer needed it. And when I began to accept this, to believe and live it, subtly, my attention changed. Without needing approval, I began to notice the quiet pull toward specific ideas or desires that were intrinsically my own, not someone else’s to validate. Life started at that moment to be an adventure, even if it was nothing more than showing up, even when nothing was resolved. It didn’t matter. I was living me. I accepted that sometimes understanding comes only after effort, not before. Looking back, I realized that my strongest decisions, the ones that actually changed and transformed my life, were rarely made in moments of confidence. They were made in moments of scared commitment.

With regret, but also with thankfulness for the experience, I realized how much life-energy and opportunity I had wasted, misreading what were, in fact, neutral conditions and neutral exterior feedback. No response didn’t mean that anyone was rejecting me. Resistance didn’t mean I was going in the wrong direction. Slow progress didn’t mean I was a failure or ill-equipped.

Letting go of the belief that I didn’t need external validation for how I wanted to live my life didn’t erase doubt. Don’t get the wrong impression. But what it did was to strip doubt of its authority. Uncertainty stopped being a verdict and became something I could walk alongside. I could live in the present, not the past or the future, and though it might feel uncomfortable to take risks others dared not, doubt was no longer in charge. Living the life I wanted to live became the mantra.

Letting go of that belief, that need for affirmation, didn’t suddenly make my progress in the world easier, but it did make it wider. Possibilities that had always been there came into view, and I was able to accept them without any need for anyone else’s approval. These possibilities that I dared not dream of didn’t change. They were there all the time. I simply stopped requiring permission to see them. Or honor them. Or rather, I realized the only permission I needed to live the life of my dreams on my own terms was mine.

I realized the world doesn’t widen because circumstances change. It widened when I stopped asking permission to dream big dreams. I wasn’t walking with the consent or acceptance of others anymore. I was walking with uncertainty, and noticing I still belonged, not to the whims of others, but to myself. I began writing my life, telling the story I knew should be told, even when I walked alone.

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Clay Stafford is a bestselling writer, filmmaker, and founder of the Killer Nashville International Writers’ Conference, Killer Nashville Magazine, and the Killer Nashville University streaming service. Subscribe to his newsletter at https://claystafford.com/.

Between Pen and Paper: Flaneuring Through a Writer’s Mind – Writing on My Own Spectrum

By Andi Kopek

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Oh, Spring is in the air. Spring is in the air, on the ground, and underneath. We can see it, touch it, and smell it. The snow has melted away, taking our unreasonable New Year resolutions with it, and allowing buds of SMARTI goals to slowly open and release the fragrance of new hope. I think Spring is my favorite season—it brings so much positivity.

Spring is a season of rebirth and renewal, which, if you think about it, is exactly what writing is

—a process of bringing ideas to life. Characters blossom, plots grow, and creativity flourishes when given the right care.

If, in the past two months, you set yourself goals that you didn’t achieve, don’t see them as failures. Instead, consider them compost—necessary for new growth. You didn’t fail; you simply gathered data on what doesn’t work for you. Now, armed with that knowledge, let’s plant a new plan—one that works with your creative style and makes 2025 your best writing year yet.

Knowing Your Creative Style

"So, what is your creative style? Do you know?"

I believe that in every profession—just as in life itself—knowing yourself is essential.

Here, I’d like to cite my favorite ancient Greek philosopher, Socrates, who believed that self- knowledge is the foundation of wisdom. His famous dictum, "Know thyself" (γνῶθι σεαυτόν, gnōthi seautón), wasn’t just philosophical rhetoric; it was practical advice. Only when you understand your own nature—your habits, strengths, limitations, and rhythms—can you work with them, rather than against them.

As writers, we often push ourselves toward one-size-fits-all productivity models, thinking that the only way to succeed is to write in a very specific way, perhaps mimicking the modus operandi of a famous writer. It worked for them, so why not for me?

In this search for the "right" way to write, we are often asked: Are you a planner or a pantser?

Do you meticulously outline every detail of your story ("Structure is everything!")?

Or do you let the ink flow freely, trusting instinct to lead you ("Only inspiration fuels my creativity!")?

The Planner vs. Pantser Spectrum

“So, which one are you?”

If you truly know yourself, as Socrates intended, you may find that you are neither—or both. Like with so many things in life, the planner vs. pantser debate is an artificial dichotomy. There are many more options than just two extremes. I prefer to see it as a spectrum of creative style, with pure planners on one end and pure pantsers on the other.

Most writers fall somewhere in between, blending both styles to some extent. Here are some examples of different positions on the spectrum:

1. The 25% Planner / 75% Pantser

Approach:

This writer starts with a general idea—perhaps a theme, a character, or a rough sense of where the plot should go. They prefer to let the story develop organically, following inspiration as it comes. Instead of a detailed outline, they jot down key plot points or the ending, allowing for flexibility in how the story unfolds.

Writing Process:

They write freely, with character motivations and subplots emerging naturally. They embrace unexpected twists, adjusting as needed. Revision is a crucial part of their process, often reshaping major elements after the first draft to bring structure to their organic storytelling.

Challenges:

Without a solid plan, they may struggle with plot consistency or pacing. The lack of pre-planning can lead to extensive revisions, requiring multiple drafts to refine the structure.

2. The 50% Planner / 50% Pantser Approach:

This writer outlines the major beats of the story but leaves plenty of space for spontaneous changes. They know the beginning, middle, and end, but allow details to evolve naturally. Character arcs are planned in advance, yet there is room for discovery and unexpected developments.

Writing Process:

They alternate between structured and exploratory writing, using a loose outline as a guide. They are comfortable diverging from their plan when inspiration strikes. Editing is done progressively, but major structural changes are reserved for later drafts.

Challenges:

At times, they may struggle with indecision—whether to stick to the outline or follow instinct. Finding the right balance between planning and creativity is key to maintaining momentum.

3. The 75% Planner / 25% Pantser Approach:

This writer prefers a structured process, outlining story structure, character arcs, and key turning points in advance. However, they still allow some flexibility within scenes, dialogue, and minor subplots. While most of the novel is mapped out, they recognize that stories evolve during the drafting process.

Writing Process:

They write within their outline framework, treating it as a guide rather than a strict rule. Their logical progression allows for smooth drafting, but they enjoy minor creative detours along the way. Since much of the structure is in place from the start, revisions are typically more efficient. Challenges:

This type of writer may feel creatively restricted when inspiration leads them away from the outline. If their plan is too rigid, spontaneous ideas might feel disruptive rather than enriching to the story. Finding a balance between structure and flexibility is key.

Finding Your Own Creative Balance

“Do you identify with one example more than the others?"

The most important thing is this: Know thyself. Write from a position of who you are, not who you wish to be.

And here’s a final thought: You don’t have to stay in one place on this spectrum forever.

For one novel, you might thrive as a 25% Planner / 75% Pantser, letting your story unfold naturally. For another, you may lean into structure, becoming a 75% Planner / 25% Pantser to tackle a complex, multi-layered plot. And that’s okay. It’s okay to be a fluid writer on a spectrum of writing styles.

So take a deep breath. Fill your lungs with warm Spring air, the fragrance of blossoms, and the music of birds chirp. And remember how exciting it is to be a creative, amazing writer—on your own terms.

Andi

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Andi Kopek is a multidisciplinary artist based in Nashville, TN. With a background in medicine, molecular neuroscience, and behavioral change, he has recently devoted himself entirely to the creative arts. His debut poetry collection, Shmehara, has garnered accolades in both literary and independent film circles for its innovative storytelling.

When you’re in Nashville, you can join Andi at his monthly poetry workshop, participate in the Libri Prohibiti book club, or catch one of his live performances. When not engaging with the community, he's hard at work on his next creative project or preparing for his next, upcoming art- focused podcast, The Samovar(t) Lounge: Steeping Conversations with Creative Minds, where in a relaxed space, invited artists share tea and the never-told intricacies of their creative journeys.