Well, here we are.
The new job is in full swing and I miss being able to incorporate my creative endeavors during the workday. What I mean to say is I miss all of you, and what you have to say.
I was reading an article recently that said that blogs were out, twitter was in and if you expected anyone to read you, you better write in short, snappy, digestible snippets. Now, I digress more than most but I couldn’t help but wonder what type of dialogue could really be created if everyone has the attention span of a gnat.
I can see the fun that could be had with Twitter, a few pithy individuals and most of us being let in on their secret conversations, secret among their 20,000 closest followers. I get that. I quick banter with people who share a common sense of humor.
What I don’t understand is how that has anything to do with the essays most of you write, moments in time, a little of this, a little of that, a bit of you spread over the ether.
I didn’t start writing online in order to create a presence, or build a brand. I just wanted to meet some like-minded folks, ones who perhaps like me, weren’t surrounded by a culture who read and got excited by an author’s writing space, people who geeked out over author interviews in The Paris Review. How else could I have met so many people who I now depend on for what’s going on in writing, publishing, the life of a creative mind?
I cherish that. And I miss that. I wonder, in the big scheme of things, if perhaps I underrated how important being able to touch base on all things artistic is for me. Before I had it, I didn’t know to miss it. Now though, I feel like I’m going through withdrawal. I’m out of touch and not happy about it.
Working full-time, being a mom, being a wife, being a sister and a daughter, all of those things is better having in my head that I am also a writer. But see? It’s secretly in my head. The only time it comes out is when the information is in this space, the one with all of you.
I went to see Moonrise Kingdom this weekend, and through the whole movie all I could think was how one day Wes Anderson got an idea for a type of storytelling, one that anyone in their right mind would tell him would not, could not sell. It’s bizarre and although there is a plot sometimes you don’t know what it’s really about until the credits are rolling. Sometimes not even then. The characters are strange and dynamic and many times talk in monotone. I don’t know of anyone else who did what he did before he did it.
I imagine him sitting down with Owen Wilson and after a few drinks saying, “I have this idea…” and Owen (who co-wrote the first three of his movies) listening while his brain is exploding until Wes is done and suddenly they are writing this quirky film because they are just there, in that moment in time, when all the stars are lining up.
I think we are that to each other. We aren’t bouncing our story ideas, but we are out there creating. So, if you had any doubt, let me tell you that whatever your craziest idea is? Go with that one. Make something new out of something old. All the stories may have been told but not in the way you can tell them.
Tell the story the way only you can.
It isn’t about publishing. It’s about creating art.
Go create art.