On Craft…
If you’ve been following me on Twitter, you’ll know a week after my grandma died, my beloved girlfriend’s grandfather was put on home hospice care. He passed yesterday afternoon. But somehow, life outside of our little bubble continues, which means, I must keep writing. I have no idea what to write; it all feels pointless. So much death within one week feels unfathomable. And yet, it’s happening. Rapidly. I need to write now, more than I’ve ever needed to write, because when all else fails, craft replenishes me.
Today, I’d like to write to everyone about the ways in which writing can feed and nourish. This isn’t about writing to be published; it’s about writing to feel better. I think we get bogged down in the byline and forget writing is our lifeline, too. A big help through all of this crisis has been the newsletter, because I write it for myself. I write to feel better, and I write because it fulfills me. I encourage everyone to have a project or outlet that is strictly for them, that can help them hone their craft without the pressure of the industry surrounding their craft. I write to replenish myself, because without writing, I would wither away.
If you’re trapped in a cycle of writing for commercial purposes, and you’re unsure of how to return to the page for a communion between yourself and yourself, I would advise you try to recall why you started writing. What were the pieces you read that drove you to write? How far have you drifted from your origin story, and what can you do to get back to that special genesis? Before you write for any other reason—money not withstanding, because I understand how important it is to survive—you have to write for your well being. A return to the root of your desires will always help.
I am writing now not because my job demands it, but because my heart demands I work within the page. I don’t have to write about the trauma I am experiencing, I simply have to write. I have to express and via this literary expression, I can process. There’s magic in writing; there’s something so very special about putting thoughts down and watching sentences come together to form coherent ideas. You feel like a ruler. You feel like a world-builder. You feel omnipotent and invincible. In so many ways, the page protects.
If you’re aching right now, go back to your craft and whittle away at your skills. This is not the time to write your opus, but it is the time to recognize what writing can do for you. Create to feel whole again, not to sell something. Create for the good of your heart, not for the good of the company. I am writing now because my soul would be a husk if I wasn’t within the page. I am writing now because I love myself. Forget the pressure of making quarantine and trauma at large into content. Writing feeds. Allow yourself to gorge.