Writing For Your Life

Photo by Gary Fultz on Unsplash

Each day’s terror, almost

a form of boredom — madmen

at the wheel and

stepping on the gas and

the brakes no good —

and each day one,

sometimes two, morning-glories,

faultless, blue, blue sometimes

flecked with magenta, each

lit from within with

the first sunlight.

— Denise Levertov, "Concurrence"

Camerados-

I started off this newsletter one way and then today happened, which made me want to talk about another aspect of writing that, I don’t know, will maybe give you some hope in the mess.

First: As many of you know, I’m in the process of getting my clinical master’s in social work degree and my current field placement is as a social worker with teens at an arts high school. Perfect post for the YA writer, no? I can’t go into detail, but today one of my kiddos was in a lot of pain. I spent almost five solid hours with them, if that gives you any indication of what we were dealing with. We were in the woods, in the dark - metaphorically, of course. But here’s the thing: they are a writer. This is our point of connection. So what started out as a suicide assessment turned into a plot brainstorming session.

What I’m saying is that writing literally saves lives.

Writing just because you have to write, because it is, actually, maybe the only safe place for you to go. This kid is a fantastic writer, with a prolific imagination. I have such high hopes for them and I really want them to live long enough to get their stories out into the world. It was a hard day and an honor, to walk side-by-side with a fellow creative, looking for, as Denise Levertov says above:

one,

sometimes two, morning-glories,

faultless, blue, blue sometimes

flecked with magenta, each

lit from within with

the first sunlight.

Keep writing, despite the madmen at the wheel. Keep writing for your life.

Social working….

The second thing I wanted to talk about is sweaters. (This is a favorite topic for Minnesotans). My dear friend, the author Camille DeAngelis, knit me the most glorious sweater for my birthday. It’s the most magnificent piece of knitting I’ve seen, with so many different stitches in the pattern. What I love most about this sweater is its story, which Camille shares in her wonderful post on knitting it and how this process relates to the concept of sunk cost in creativity.

She writes, “Whether or not you decide to throw in the towel, look for the boons inside this period of frustration and uncertainty. This is how we get better at the work we love to do…”

Spoiler alert: She had knitted much of the sweater…and then had to start over. PLOT TWIST!

You may or may not be dealing with sunk cost right now (she defines this in her post above). Whether it’s sunk cost with a specific project or sunk cost with writing in general, it’s really painful to have put so much into something only to realize you either have to walk away entirely, or start over.

I’m in a “start over” part of my writing career and life.

I’m feeling a pull towards metamorphosis, which is uncomfortable and a little bit painful. I’m not sure how butterflies feel about the process, but that’s my take.

And this brings me back to the kiddo I worked with today: sometimes our very lives feel like sunk cost. This is why it’s so important that we hold onto the life raft that is our creativity. Because, as Camille, says, there are boons inside periods of frustration and uncertainty. That isn’t to say we should bypass our pain. No, no. Feel it, all of it. Then, tell us what it’s like. Tell the story, sink or swim.

I hope you’ll consider joining me in this work of metamorphosis and writing for our lives during the upcoming Spring Writing Practice Period. It begins this Sunday, but as long as you sign up by next Wednesday, you’ll get the full benefit. Think on it and see if walking alongside one another for the next few months in a low key way feels like the life raft you want to jump onto.

Look for the morning glories-