People say they want to be writers, but in actuality, many lack the discipline to do so. Like all artistic exercises, writing involves regular practice. Sitting in front of a blank page and filling it with coherent and creative sentences is not easy. In fact, it’s so commonly known that we writers lose our creative spark that there’s a phrase for it: writer’s block.
If you search “writer’s block” online, there’s a lot of advice for escaping a mental pit of inactivity: Start with an outline, take a break or, my personal favorite, just start typing and see where it goes. But, to be honest with you, if you want to start writing, the best thing you can do is smoke some weed, sit in a firm chair and don’t get up until you’ve at least partially finished what you’ve set out to do.
The weed part is the key. It’s the thing that will spark your brain into uncovering new thoughts you didn’t know were trapped inside. A strong joint and a bright pink winter sunset will do wonders for the creative process. If you have more time to go even further beyond a solo smoke, there’s another great resource for finding inspiration: community. And luckily, smoking weed cultivates that too.
If there’s one thing Cannabis is always coupled with, it’s culture. This plant has a magnetic pull toward shared experiences. Generally, when someone has something they love — in this case, weed — they want to share it with others. Sharing fulfills an emotional need that feels primordial, and sharing weed is the ultimate balm for our troubled Trumpian times. Puff, puff, pass!
When Cannabis is smoked together in a group of like-minded people, it is often a powerful tool for wellness. Bonds between other humans are the most straightforward way to give life meaning. With weed and camaraderie, we can free ourselves from the things that hold us back: our own insecurities and doubts, worldly obligations and distractions. When we become part of a community, we open ourselves up to receiving inspiration from others who are happy, creative and productive.
Back in 2023, my friend, Leah Cerri, felt like a lot of us do these days, or at least how I do more often than not: lost. In a professional slow phase, Leah missed one of the main things that made her love working in the Cannabis industry: the close, personal connections she made with other women. To support herself, she ended up helping others, building a community of women through hosting free smoke-friendly events in Northern California. The group she built, Nor-Cal Women in Cannabis, has become one of the main ways I find myself still engaging in person with the weed world. At these events, I’m having fun just as myself, not as a representative of any company I might work for. I’m smoking tons of weed and laughing with old and new friends.
When Cannabis journalism became my full-time career back in 2013, I started connecting with some of the most special people in my life, and weed became my whole world. I’m an extremely loyal person, so when I got my first job at a Cannabis magazine, I stuck with it until the end, which was the great lifequake of COVID and 2020.
Adrift professionally, I next had the opportunity to write a book on Cannabis appreciation, “Weed: A Connoisseur’s Guide to Cannabis,” which sold over 20,000 copies and got remixed into another title, “Weed: Smoke It, Eat It, Grow It, Love It.” Then, I got what seemed like the opportunity of a lifetime, a chance to become the editor-in-chief of the world’s most recognized Cannabis magazine. But everything was not as it seemed.
The magazine struggled in many ways and ultimately went under in a big public manner, which resulted in almost everyone in my professional sphere wanting to call me and gossip about its demise. But I had nothing to say; I was lost again. This last forced transition left me in another precarious place professionally, and I won’t lie and say I’ve made it to the other side.
I’m freelancing for several magazines, including this one, but life as a weed writer is rough. Oftentimes, you’re pestering people to pay you for the work you’ve already done, and sometimes you don’t get paid at all. In a world where writers are still getting paid by the word, sometimes I’m beefing up the text in an effort not to leave any money on the table. And when something feels finished, pulling out more words can feel about as productive as juicing a banana; there’s just nothing there.
Still, seeing something you wrote in print — whether it’s a book, newspaper, magazine or even just online — is monumentally satisfying. At this point, I’m addicted to the idea that I can make my way in this world as a writer, and I’m still pushing for it. But I’m also giving in a bit to where life is taking me next. I’ve found out that success is not linear, and sometimes extreme highs are followed by extreme lows.
Part of the way I’m transforming lately is by finding another community. I have a studio space in an art gallery, and I’m spending time there making art. In the studio, among a community of artists, I’m the weed person. People making amazing paintings and sculptures want to talk to me about my journalistic endeavors in Cannabis, and I want to speak to them about their creative processes. I often feel humbled because I’m just a beginner in many of the things I’m doing these days, but even though it feels challenging, I think it’s probably a good thing that might lead to growth.
During the worldwide health pandemic and its aftermath, we lost those in-person connections. We lost our communities. And now, even though my communities are changing, I’m still drawing a lot of hope and a lot of my personal wellness from the connections I’m making with others.
Maybe this column got too real. Maybe in the future I won’t be blessed with the opportunity of speaking to you, whoever you are, through written words on a page. I consider it an honor that you’ve stuck with me so far. Three times in my life, I’ve had the chance to write editor’s notes, and it’s always felt a bit like writing a letter, but not knowing who you’re writing to. This time I’m writing to you. Know that the path forward is never a straight line. Keep trying to stand up for what you believe in. Keep adapting and growing with change.
If you want to be a writer, sit down and start writing. And if you get stuck, take a puff and find some friends. Cannabis and community will lead toward better well-being and strength. The battles in this lifetime are never-ending, but we can’t let our defeats define us. Take care, and stay kind. Share your talents, and let your light shine.
