Do you, like me, wonder how we landed here, with legions legit believing there’s a Democratic cartel of child sex traffickers, that critical race theory is an imminent threat, or that we should privatize law by becoming a country of citizen watchdogs?
Then I saw this ad for Spacify.
Nestled into a New York Times story about a party thrown by tech billionaire Peter Thiel (trying to unseat Liz Cheney from his Florida mansion at a MAGA-inspired “the election was rigged” fundraiser), this ad appeared.
First, it’s the New York Times. They aren’t writing for the red hat crowd. More importantly, this is reinforcing the exact thing that has enabled the Tangerine Pol Pot to think he won. While his people went out in droves to hear their charismatic Dear Leader, morons like us are being sold soundproof isolation booths.
On the plus side, I’m pretty sure you can go inside and scream without waking the children.*
But here’s the thing. As a writer I spend vast quantities of time alone, and love it. But if I want to be a good writer—and oh, I do—I have to be a participant in this life.
A good writer goes to everything.
David Carr to me (RIP)
This isn’t a clarion call to rush out and get and spread Covid, but a resolution to get over my Zoom fatigue. To do more in-person. To be more open. Simply put, to risk more. As Toni Morrison said in her commencement address to the Barnard class of 1979:
I want to discourage you from choosing anything or making any decision simply because it is safe. Things of value seldom are.
Even when it feels like I’m the person in the background (or worse, the PR person who didn’t notice this in the edit!):
So, what’s inspired me to keep on keeping on this past month? Quite a bit, actually…
Starting with death.
Though I have yet to write about my father’s death (I have yet to put the cremains into the urn, or pick a date for a service at his selected burial site in Chicago), I was moved by this piece from Aimee Liu in Human Parts, “My Mother Wants a Pill,” about grappling with the challenges of caregiving a stubborn elderly parent, written with a tender view of the obstinacy.
Thich Nhat Hanh.
Much has (and will be) written about the Buddhist monk’s death, but I found this piece in the Washington Post most illuminating. In truth, I was never drawn to him in the same way as I have been to Pema Chödrön. So for me, it was a primer on appreciating his greatness.
Naturally I went looking to see if Pema had any comments on his death, and while she might, I stopped searching when I found this fantastic talk between her and bell hooks. Have a read.
Now that you’re on board with impermanence, why not submit some writing somewhere?
Because right away on top of TNH we got Meat Loaf and now Dr. Johnny Fever… Here’s a thorough guide to a wealth of literary magazines. Click to check for deadlines, samples, and payment info.
Or maybe you’re suffering from writer’s block?
In this interview, director Julia Ducournau discusses the “excruciating pain” of writer’s block, why gender fluidity is inspiring and how she finally got up the “fuck-it energy” to make her radical new movie.
Much as I loved that piece, I’m a huge fan of reframing experience. Letting go of that which does not serve us. To that end, I always enjoy these LitHub author interviews (which always includes a question about writer’s block), but this sentence from author Aysegül Savas took my breath away (and sent me to buy her new book.
The loss, when discussing the business of writing in the cold language of business, is one of enchantment. It is also a loss of pleasure, of the willingness and patience to abide in mystery.
It’s never too late.
There’s been an explosion of publishing opps for us elderfolk. From Sari Botton’s thought-provoking pieces in Oldster right here on Substack, to Next Tribe, The Girlfriend, etc., we don’t have to give way to invisibility.
Here’s a favorite recent read, from Bernardine Evaristo, on the richness our stories can become imbued with over time:
I could not have written this novel when I was a young woman because I was only interested in creating young characters. I’m always amused when my young students create frail, old characters hunched over walking sticks, only for them to tell me that they’re in their forties. I would have been the same.
If all else fails, there’s always do-overs:
No matter how you feel about whatever you’re working on and/or Star Wars itself, you’ll appreciate this early edition video. The clip embodies the idea that it takes a long time—and skilled editing—to get a thing right.
And if you’re still feeling stuck…
Here’s some world class procrastination one way to jumpstart your brain. Have you played Wordle yet?
—See you next month! xoLL
*PS: That Mom rage is REAL.