Category: writing

on words.

K and I exchanged thoughts on our recent, deeply introverted cravings to be alone. To be still.

I discussed this tonight with P during a lovely, quiet, whimsical dinner and he asked why I still felt like I have to be “on” around him. It’s the wrong question, I think.

I find myself gaining fluency in both molding myself to and also setting myself apart from this throbbing, demanding city- to swim with its tides rather than against it, or rather than drowning and gasping shallow breaths of air while trying desperately to stay afloat. Which also means gaining fluency in interactions with the throbbing, demanding people that inhabit it. I have poured my broken heart into its crevices, and daily I awake and soldier up to expect the unexpected. Today’s society is more distracting than ever, with a shorter attention span, and few seem to be able to commit to a passion or a vision or a dream. So many are following security, money, comfort in retail therapy and the familiar. Everyone is trying to sell you something, everyone is trying to optimize when to send the email or post the blog entry at the perfect time to gain the widest or target audience. And that’s why honesty is more important than ever, that’s why taking risks and accepting change is more important than ever. That’s why we must cling to truth and to knowing our own strength as individuals. More than ever, I stand on the other side of the reaction of older men blinking in my wake, muttering, “You are a really sharp, smart woman.” Mostly, I feel a sting of regret that they seem so shocked. Is it because I appear young (I always did hate my baby-fat-cheeks)? Is it because I am female? But I usually just smile and thank them while responding, “No, I just read. A whole fucking lot.”

This city has allowed me to rediscover what it means to be viewed as young, as someone who still has “plenty of time” to do the impossible, as a woman and not just a woman-who-is-unmarried-without-kids-a-white-picket-fence-and-three-dogs-in-the-suburbs. And therefore, therefore– I suddenly not only just desire to do everything at once (as has always been one of my greatest flaws), but I realize that I can, even if I may die trying. I echo a line in a book I’m reading– I don’t want to drink just the water. I want to drink the wave. And in response to the possibility of that kind of drowning, I say with head held high, bring it on.

In light of all of that, thank god for solitude, and the time to write it all down. Thank god for someone who understands when I need to shut it out so that it’s just me and the music, and words. My first companions in life, the ones that I will always find to be the best and most loyal. They may also break my heart in many ways, but they are in ways that are familiar and healthy, like the tearing of muscle fibers. They always said that in order to be with others, you have to learn first to be with yourself. To that, I say fuck yes.

Cassie posts:

It’s all pretend until it is not. It is all a story until it’s your life. Words have very real and frightening consequences, but — even more importantly — so, too, do the absence of words. The stories we tell are the options we have, and it is our priority to create new and thoughtful narratives. The question being asked is: what do we lose with a limited vocabulary?

— Fairy Tales & Insomnia-speak, on the films of Catherine Breillat.

My sister linked to Writing Your Way To Happiness in the New York Times.

…researchers are studying whether the power of writing — and then rewriting — your personal story can lead to behavioral changes and improve happiness.

The concept is based on the idea that we all have a personal narrative that shapes our view of the world and ourselves. But sometimes our inner voice doesn’t get it completely right. Some researchers believe that by writing and then editing our own stories, we can change our perceptions of ourselves and identify obstacles that stand in the way…

Patrick Rothfuss writes:

“Words are pale shadows of forgotten names. As names have power, words have power. Words can light fires in the minds of men. Words can wring tears from the hardest hearts.”

So, there’s that. As Cassie also writes: “Here are the things that get me going: you, art, life, words.”

i loved reading this today. Jeff Goins tackles what he did when one of his blog posts went viral, and then he essentially went “back to zero.” I think it’s easy in today’s world of social networking to get caught up in how many people read your blog, whether or not you’ll get published, if you do get published how many people will read it, how many hits you get, how much money you can make from your art, how many likes you get on Instagram, and so on. But what did you truly start creating for?

No single creative success can be sustained. That’s why you can’t create solely for profit or praise. In the end, the thrill never lasts. If you want to be an artist, there has to be something more than fame that sustains you.

Just ask Elizabeth Gilbert.

Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert was an inexplicable, runaway success. After she wrote the book and it raced up the bestsellers lists, people asked her a cruel question:

“Aren’t you afraid you’re never going to be able to top that?”

The answer, not surprisingly, was: Yes. She worried she’d never be able to write another book that achieved such success. In an amazing TED Talk, she said, “It’s exceedingly likely that my greatest success is behind me.”

This worry held her back, caused her to hesitate and wait years before writing and publishing another book. But eventually she did. And how she did it was unique. Courageous, even.

She went to work, anyway. She treated her life’s work as just that — a job. She started believing in the idea of a Muse, a spirit that indwells artists. She resigned to a more mystical, creative process, and began to understand that “success” wasn’t up to her.

No, her job was to show up.

We must do the same.

No matter how amazing you are today, you have to get up and put the hours in tomorrow. And the next day. And so on.

Because that thing inside of you that causes you to create already forgot yesterday’s successes, it’s hungry. And if you don’t feed it something new, it will eat you alive.

That, my friends, is why artists kill themselves, why they get depressed after a monumental success and never create anything again. After going big with some huge, mega success that plummets them into instant stardom, they seemingly have nowhere left to go.

But that isn’t why they got into the game in the first place. And it’s not why you and I are in it, either. At least, I hope not.

Fame is not enough.

Doing creative work for mass consumption is not fulfilling. Sure, it’s a nice byproduct, but it can’t be the focus.

This is why I write (and often) every day. Not for the fans and followers. But for me. Because if I do not, I feel like something is missing. The accolades never seem to completely satisfy. Only creating can fulfill you after the fanfare fades.

So do something creative today. Scribble a note in your notebook. Snap a photo. Bang out a few chords on the guitar. Hit “publish” on that blog post you’ve been stalling to write.

Show up and do your work.

Whatever you do, please, don’t live in the past. And don’t wait for the future. Now is all you have. So, artist, create. It’s what you were made to do.