I think that’s such a gentle shift in perspective. So many of us carry an old story about ourselves. I’m not enough, I’m not clever enough, I’m too much, not enough, too late, too different or I’m an imposter. We believe that before we can move forward, we have to somehow eliminate those feelings. But what if the goal isn’t to erase them? What if the real work is learning to recognise them when they arrive, greet them with compassion, and choose not to let them drive the bus? That’s a very different way of living.

I see this all the time in the creative process. Writers and artists I work with often believe they’re stuck because they lack talent, discipline or inspiration. More often than not, they’re stuck because an old belief has quietly resurfaced. The inner critic gets louder, confidence shrinks, and suddenly the blank page feels impossible. 

Yet creativity has a wonderful way of inviting us into relationship with these parts of ourselves. When we stop fighting the old story and simply notice it. “Ah, there you are again”, we then create space for curiosity. From that place, the work begins to flow again. Not because the fear has disappeared, but because it no longer gets to make the decisions.

Perhaps that’s one of the unexpected gifts of a creative life. It doesn’t ask us to become fearless; it asks us to become kinder. Every time we return to the page despite our doubts, every time we choose to create instead of waiting to feel confident, we’re quietly writing a new story. Not just on the paper, but within ourselves. Over time, we discover that creativity isn’t about not having wounds from the past. It’s about learning that those old wounds don’t have to silence our voice. Sometimes they even deepen it.

I’m so sorry — in my earlier invitation, I gave you the wrong address for the Stillness exhibition. Here’s the correct (and very beautiful) location where I’d love to welcome you:
Studio on Brunswick
Shop 2 California Lane, off 22 McLachlan Street, New Farm

Yes, it’s a different street — but the same promise of stillness, soul, and connection.

The exhibition opens at 5:30pm on Saturday 12 July, and I’d be absolutely delighted to see you there.

Stillness is a collection of mixed media artworks and poetry created during a time of deep personal transformation. Each piece is an invitation to pause, breathe, and reconnect — with yourself, with beauty, with quiet truth.

Come for the art, stay for some bubbles and the company. Let’s share a moment of presence together.

Warmly,
Vicki Bennett

Writing your first book is hard. Not hard in a you might not make it way, hard in a personal growth way. It stretches you. It teaches you. It invites you to show up, over and over again, even when it’s messy or unclear. That’s something to be proud of. There’s no point in looking back with regret and wishing you did it differently.

Your first draft won’t be perfect. Your tenth might not be either. But every version, every attempt, every quiet moment you spend trying to get the words right is part of the journey. Those messy drafts, the constant second-guessing, the moments where your confidence disappears completely? That’s all normal. It’s part of the process. Every author you admire has been exactly where you are. In fact, many of them have been there with every single book they write.

Every stumble, every deleted page, every, What am I even doing? moment is completely normal. In fact, it’s to be expected. That’s how writing works. That’s how writers are made. You’re not off track, you’re exactly where you should be.

Now’s the time to regroup. Pause. Take a breath. Look at how far you’ve already come. You’ve built something. Maybe it’s a little crooked. Maybe it needs a stronger foundation or a fresh coat of paint. That’s okay. Now you get to revise, refine, reimagine, and craft your book.

You have tools now. You’ve got feedback, insights, ideas. You’ve got instincts that are sharper than they were before. Trust them. Go back to your manuscript with a clear heart and look at it with fresh eyes. Read every line not with judgment, but with curiosity. Ask yourself, “How can this be even truer?” Not more polished. Not more literary. Just more you. 

Ask yourself not, “Is this perfect?” but “Is this true to the heart of what I’m trying to say?”  Every line doesn’t need to sparkle, it just needs to work. You don’t need to impress anyone. Aim for honesty, clarity, and connection. You just need to finish what you started, in your own voice, in your own way.

Because this isn’t just about finishing a book. It’s about becoming a writer.

And becoming a writer means learning how to stay the course. How to bounce back. How to work through uncertainty. Writing a book is more than just telling a story. It’s about learning how to show up even when it’s hard. It means trusting that every draft matters, even the messy ones. It means falling down and getting back up, again and again. It means embracing the long game, and celebrating the small wins along the way. So if you’re doing that? Then let me be clear, you already are a writer—building something bold, one brave word at a time.

I’ve been conducting a series of Writer’s Workshops, focusing on the art of crafting compelling narratives. I help writers construct their words and meaning into easy-to-read, elegant words and sentences. Many writers believe their work is complete after three or four drafts, but true refinement often begins at this stage. Diligent crafting is essential to elevating a manuscript to its highest potential.

Recently, I collaborated with my publishing editor on my latest book, The Letters. Over the past decade, this project has undergone numerous rewrites, and restructurings, including twenty edits. Even after this extensive process, my editor identified areas for improvement.

Effective crafting demands time, attention, and a clear sense of purpose. It involves consistently refining voice, rhythm, tone, and meticulously reviewing each line. It also involves the willingness to remove unnecessary elements, even if it means cutting cherished words or sentences.

By dedicating ourselves to this process, we demonstrate respect for our reader and for ourselves as writers. Through conscious cultivation of insight and technique, we transform our writing into art. When we craft the written word, we consciously improve our insight and skill, developing our technique as writers, through repetition and devotion. 

We engage in writing because it holds profound significance, and ultimately, we craft our writing because it matters. The Letters will be in bookstores in April 2025. 

Overview:

‘As a child, I was captivated by my grandfather’s stories. A World War 1 veteran, he told me stories about France and the people he meet during the Great War. I have been under the spell of this period ever since. My grandfather’s account of the enduring bonds between Australia and the France left an indelible mark on my imagination, inspiring a lifelong passion for this historical period. Long after my grandfather died,  I discovered letters sent to him from France, revealing long-held secrets. These letters inspired The Letters, a narrative exploring themes of hope, courage, and compassion. This story bridges time and culture, posing the compelling question: If you could go back in time, what would you change?

Vicki Bennett

Rather than the need to be fully fixed, can we just try to be fully here? Which is the authentic antidote for healing and wellness. Healing means being OK with ourselves wherever and whatever we are, in each moment. Not blaming, shaming or guilting ourselves. 

Healing doesn’t mean the absence of pain or discomfort or difficulty or moments of confusion or doubt. Or ignoring our feelings or lying about them to ourselves, or slathering them in some kind of spiritual mumbo jumbo weirdness. It does not mean forgetting, not being triggered, or all is perfectly comfortable all the time. Trying to deny the discomfort of dark and murky spots in life will get us a one-way ticket to misery, confusion, and constant exhaustion.

Welcome every emotion as an old friend. Creativity happens in the moment of acceptance. Not in shame or blame. Pure kindness to self, creates unlimited creativity.It means being OK with yourself wherever and whatever you are in each moment. Not needing to change it, willing to face it, and feel it. Healing does not mean instant forgiveness, or clarity or even feeling better. It is the willingness to wade through the mud, no expectations, the only goal being … presence to it all. Not turning our back on any part of ourselves … that is our healing.