One of the actionable habits to reach my writing goals in 2023 is to read more books about the writing process and put the knowledge to use in my own writing. Thus far this year, I've read "Bird by Bird" by Anne Lamott and recently, I finished reading "Writing Down the Bones" by Natalie Goldberg (and I read this because it was recommended in "Bird by Bird"....you gotta follow the breadcrumbs). I loved "Writing Down the Bones" because - in addition to her advice being both practical and easily digestible - she describes the process of writing as a lifestyle. Because that's what it is. It's not a habit, it's a way of looking at life. And that's how I've always seen it. I write because I have some sick obsession around releasing my thoughts and my story into the void. Although I'm grateful for you (i.e., whoever is reading this) and I hope you get something out of it, I honestly don't care if anyone reads it. The mere fact that it's out there is enough. Every published post brings with it a relief I've rarely found in any other part of my life. But there's also a pain and a struggle to it that isn't easy to convey.
Goldberg draws a lot of her guidance for writing from other writers. Sounds legit - I do the same thing. I follow a number of other writers on Instagram, from aspiring novelists like myself to more established authors (reference my rant about V.E. Schwab earlier this year). In "Writing Down the Bones," one of the chapters defers to Jack Kerouac's advice for better writing and she identifies four that have shaped her writing journey:
- Accept loss forever.
- Be submissive to everything, open, listening.
- No fear or shame in the dignity of your experience, language, and knowledge.
- Be in love with your life.
Guess which one I've struggled the most with, especially in recent months.
No peace of mind
It's all I've ever known
My hands are tied
I pretend I'm fine
But my thoughts aren't my own
So I just lie
'Cause I hate not bein' in control
Accepting loss feels too much to me like giving up. And I really don't like giving up, not when I've put so much hope and time and devotion into something. Not when it means leaving something that was supposed to be wonderful unfinished, because leaving it unfinished means it wasn't as wonderful as I thought it was. Not when accepting the loss means that I sunk so much effort into a situation that maybe wasn't worth it. I have to remember this is a normal human experience. So normal, in fact, that it has a name - the "Sunk Cost Fallacy." After investing so much time and effort into something - a relationship, a home, a job - we are reluctant to abandon it, even if doing so would be more beneficial. Even if walking away from the thing will eventually make you happier than you would be if you stayed. So we stay and we throw more time and energy away, hoping it will get better, even though we have a sinking feeling it won't, despite our best efforts.
Natalie Goldberg explains it is important to accept the loss because only then can you process it and use it for inspiration. When something is on-going, we're hesitant to write about it. We're too worried about what other people will think. Or maybe the situation will get better and we'll regret what we wrote because it casts others in a negative light, even if we were writing from a place of honesty and authenticity. Or, most often, we're holding onto a fantasy that provides comfort, even if it's not the most helpful thing for us. If we write it down, all the delusion fades and what you're left with is broken shards of reality for us to examine. That guy wasn't Prince Charming, he was a narcissist who played on your earnest belief in true love and soulmates. That workplace wasn't your second home, it was where your hard work was exploited and devalued. Your childhood wasn't all rainbows and butterflies, you just spent a lot of time in your imagination because you were severely neglected. Those sentences hurt, don't they? Good. Now that you've pulled the knife out, you can heal.
All I do is, all I do is, run away from, run away
All the things that I can't change, like
Growing older, growing older, being scared of, being scared of
Losing friends and staying the same
Waitin' to feel like I'm someone again (Hm)
(I'm just waitin' to feel something)
'Cause I'm tired of bein' the way that I am (Oh)
I learned recently that it's pretty normal to forget about childhood and, inversely, when people do remember things about their childhood, it's usually the traumatic stuff. Even people with an abnormally good memory (and I would count myself among those people) tend to forget as they grow older. Things are supposed to get fuzzy and less clear. Taking that into consideration, I remember nearly all of my childhood. Sometimes so vividly that I have to remind myself it was a long time ago. There are good memories but I realize now huge swathes of that time were not normal things for children to experience. This is one loss I've accepted - I will never get my childhood back. However, what I'm finding is that - after I accepted this - I've really started to understand how my childhood shaped me. I have this intense fear of rejection, which results in either extreme attention-seeking or withdrawal. I simultaneously want others to know me yet hide who I am out of self-preservation. I seem like an open-book but I'm actually really secretive - I'm really careful about who I provide details of my life to. Even so, I'm not above admitting I've made a few bad judgement calls. And now there are people out there walking around knowing exactly how to manipulate me to get what they want. I'm trying to get over it, but accepting that loss - that I've misplaced my trust and must reap the consequences - is a hard pill to swallow.
And I can't seem to let it go
All of this noise gets stuck in my head (Stuck in my head)
And I can't seem to let it go
Tune it all out so I can forget
But I can't seem to let it go
I've thought about writing a fictionalized (or maybe even a partially honest) version of events down, in these situations, like Anne Lamott suggests in "Bird by Bird." It's my story, why shouldn't I? Anne Lamott would say fuck the other people involved, tell the truth - but fictionalize parts so you can avoid lawsuits. (This is a paraphrase but that's the gist of her advice towards the end of the book.) You're not writing it down for them, you're writing it down for you. But that seems decidedly one-sided to me. It's not the whole truth, only one part - should I really write down my naive, delulu (gen Z for "delusional") perspective on the roaring (and at times, boring) dumpster fire that is my life? There's a version of the story where Romeo & Juliet are star-cross'd lovers doomed by fate and a version where they're stupid, selfish teenagers. Both versions are true, in some sense. The truth is always somewhere in the middle and more nuanced than we realize.
Maybe the solution is to write down both. And let the reader decide.
It's messed up
But I'm scared of what's in my head
And it's fucked up
That I'm scared of what's in my head, what's in my head (Oh)
I found Lo Spirit on Instagram when "Running up that Hill" by Kate Bush was having its resurgence of popularity and everyone was doing a cover of it. Lo Spirit did a cover that sounded (and this is how he advertised it) as if it was sung by My Chemical Romance. It's a great cover - highly recommend - and since I liked his style, I went through the rest of his discography on Spotify. He's a new artist so there's not much, but he's been gradually adding more as he releases stuff (which is often featured in his IG reels, as is true with all up-and-coming artists). I found "Let It Go" at that time and fell in love with it. But over this summer, I fell into a minor depression episode - a lot was going on, not least of which was the death of my beloved paternal grandfather - and I found myself playing this song on repeat. I'm feeling better after a couple months of good cries, self-care, and finally taking some actions I should've taken years ago. But when I was in it, the thing that frustrated me most was why I couldn't just get over certain things. Why I couldn't just move on from the situation? Why was I still hoping things - people - would change? It wasn't just sadness I was overtaken by, but a deep well of anger, carrying out shadow arguments in my head with people who weren't there and didn't care. And when I wasn't angry or crying, I was hollow. That was the worst part. I don't want to be just going through the motions. I want a life of purpose. Anyway, "Let It Go" gave voice to a lot of what I was feeling and became one of my favorite songs to pole dance to. It has a dramatic rhythm to it - it ebbs and flows with the verses, and then the bridge comes crashing down at the end (which is a good backdrop for some of the more impressive pole tricks I know). Hopefully you enjoy it as much as I did! Video below.
"Let It Go" Video
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