On Writing...

(On doing anything that matters to you)

Dear friend,

It’s just after 7 a.m. - two hours into my writing time - and I haven’t written a word. Instead, I attempted to clear out the junk drawer in the kitchen. Then I tried to organize my bathroom cabinets before abandoning it to put together a new bookshelf. Finally, while I was putting away the washed clothes that have been sitting on that chair for days (you know the chair), I realized that I have something to say about writing. So here I am, hoping that maybe writing this will nudge my brain back into my work in progress.

First, a brief background: I have been writing my whole life. The summer before fourth grade, I found an old book tucked behind another book on our shelf. It was a translation of a novel set in an underwater world and it told the story of a hybrid fish-man and the scientist who created him. Because I read it in Amharic, I still don’t know what the English title of the book was and I love that it’s crystallized in my memory this way; I can’t ruin it by reading it now as an adult. I was completely engrossed in the story, and deeply disappointed by its ending so I asked my dad why he didn’t tell me that it would end so badly. Why don’t you write the ending you prefer? he asked, awakening a monster. I set to work on rewriting several key aspects of the novel and tucked my new pages into the back of the book so that whoever reads it next can choose to read the better ending. I was always a voracious reader and suddenly I had so many stories to make my own. Alternate endings, new characters, entirely new plots…I was an unstoppable violator of other people’s stories. I later learned that there was a name and whole genre for people like me and I abandoned the hobby almost immediately. The very thought of fanfic became repulsive to me as soon as I realized that it was not just my own secret little thing, that there were writers who do it full time, and some who even publish these things. Identifying myself as a writer of anything has been the ongoing battle of my life.

But writing has been in my bones since I could hold a pen. Maybe even longer.

Anyway, it isn’t much but here is what I know about writing (about doing anything in life that matters):

• Writing is the last step. I read a lot of mythology as a kid. In college I wrote research papers and book reports on some of those stories. But since the day I read it, one story has never left my side. It raised within me a deep and compelling question, and I have been trying to answer it ever since. Two years ago, almost halfway through a completely different project, I realized that I could no longer deny myself the chance to answer this question. That’s when I knew that I was ready to write this book. And even then, I didn’t just open my laptop and begin writing; I had to do some real research, this time with a clear goal to find the through-line between my question and an answer that would be relevant to more people than just me. The actual writing is only happening now, but if we’re splitting hairs (and I am), I have been writing this book since I was a student.

• To do the work, you need nobody’s attention but your own. There is so much discourse (especially online) about the audience; the people who will pay attention, the people who will make the publishers and agents think you are marketable. I know that it’s nearly impossible these days to get published without being able to show interest. I know that social media has created an impossible reality where people who go viral get book deals before they’ve even written a page. This horrible incubator of attention is stifling the voices of way too many people who could be busy writing and instead they’re busy trying to build an audience, trying to replicate whatever the popular people are doing. The truth is, when writing is going well, there is nothing to share. There is no content. And that’s okay! Get comfortable with going away, getting quiet, tuning into your own voice and disappearing into the world you are creating.

• Stop trying to be realistic. In order to create something that does not currently exist, to make something out of thin air that people will then spend time and money to experience, you need to be unrealistic and audacious. I spent so many years not indulging my deep desire to write fiction because it wasn’t realistic. There was no way I could imagine it leading to an income, a career, even just publication. I wish someone told me to get a hold of some audacity back then, and hold on tight. You have to believe, every day, with as little doubt as possible, that what you are doing is absolutely worth the investment of time and sacrifice of certainty. You have to believe that you are needed. I know how hard this is. I know that a true writer, a true investigator and observer doesn’t spend a lot of time thinking wow, I am so important! I’m so great! Research and critical thinking will quickly disabuse you of such notions. I’m asking you to delude yourself anyway. Because we desperately need to hear from the people who don’t think they should be heard. I bet you’ve been observing when everyone else was fighting for attention, and I want to hear what you have to say.

• You need a writing routine. For so long, even after I decided to seriously write this book, I spent so much time floundering because I wrote when and where I could. I had chapters in my notes app, random dialogues in various notebooks (whatever was nearby), a word file on my laptop that felt like a junk drawer. All of this was happening because 1) I didn’t seriously believe that I could write it (see note about audacity) and 2) I didn’t realize that writing a book is literally a job. After this realization, I embarked on a journey of researching and emulating the writing routines of authors I admire. I would spend a week or so trying out various routines, hoping that going through the same motions as those writers would get me closer to their success. In the end, what I learned is that the routine makes the work serious, and that makes it possible. For me, this means writing first thing in the morning, before I give my mind and energy to my job and whatever else my day might bring. It’s like paying myself first, and the payment is the best of my creativity and my most uncluttered mind. It’s the least I could do after ignoring myself for all these years.

• Let your mind wander. I think we’ve all seen the meme saying something along the lines of creative people need to sit around and do nothing. I don’t know about you but I am a lifelong sufferer of toxic productivity. Once I latch onto a project and there is a path toward completion, it’s hard for me to resist the tunnel vision. But it’s often the fastest way for me to burn out or lose interest (they’re often related). So I spend a lot of time in museums and galleries, escaping to bookstores and cafes, reading as many books as I can, writing essays on various topics, and listening to podcasts and music while I take long walks. I spend a lot of time just watching people, studying the way someone holds a cup or how they straighten up slightly before taking a phone call, the way they square their shoulders just before starting to type. These are all important parts of the work, and the whole time I’m doing these things, I’m writing my story. I’m inside my own world while wandering through other people.

• Above all else, trust yourself. You know better than anyone what you are trying to achieve. Trust the deepest part of yourself that is trying to direct you, and see where it leads. It is so rare these days to encounter a true original thinker, someone who is led purely by their own inner guide and not a desperate attempt to capture the attentions of as many people as possible. Regularly and very seriously ask yourself what you actually think, what you actually want to create, and go confidently in the direction of your own star.

That’s all that comes to mind right now. I’m trying a new exercise where I don’t spend a lot of time with these drafts so I can get them out the door instead of letting them languish for weeks before eventually deleting them for committing the sin of being pointless. In the grand scheme of things, every single newsletter or post or whatever is completely pointless. In the small scheme, they’re just ways we are reaching out to one another, saying hello and I see you and hang in there and I hope you’re doing alright. And that’s the point.

Thank you for being here.