Hi friends,
When I teach therapeutic writing, people ask me what they should do with their writing. Keep it? Burn it? Wrap it in tissue paper and stamp it with a wax seal so they can tell if anyone else has opened it? (Not kidding, one of my friends does that.)
In reality, it doesn’t really matter, because it’s the writing itself that is the important part. I keep my journals, but I rarely go back and look at them.
Except for sometimes.
I am preparing for a hiatus in July and felt compelled to look back at the writing from last year’s break.
I had categorized my life into sections and wrote about each:
physical wellness
emotional wellness
financial wellness
creativity
community
calling
I examined the intentions I set a year ago, and whether or not I worked towards them. Many of them have been a significant focus since then, receiving my time and effort.
But there was a glaring exception. Something appeared multiple times as A Big Important Thing in a few categories. It stood out as the first line on a couple of pages.
I miss writing a book.
I went on to wax poetic about the inherent beauty of committing to a large project. I even said writing a book was like the statue of David emerging from the stone, which, at the time didn’t seem like I was comparing myself to Michelangelo, but now feels obnoxiously grandiose. (And now we know why I don’t go back to read my journals.)
A year later — obscene analogy notwithstanding — I still miss writing a book.
Admittedly, missing writing a book makes me something of a masochist. It’s kind of like saying you miss being electrocuted.
Writing a book is isolating. Infuriating. Exhausting. And it takes literally years. Sometimes, it takes 45 years, in the case of Stephen King’s latest book You Like It Darker which contains a story he started writing in the 1970s.
Lately, writers have boldly been told, “Writing a book isn’t a good idea.” That’s because the New York Times found that 98% of books published in 2020 sold fewer than 5,000 copies.
Ouch.
So yeah, book writing is a bad idea. And it’s one of the biggest joys of my life.
I’ve written a book before. And then I wrote another one. I know how to do this. I don’t want to be one of those people who longs to write a book, and then doesn’t do it.
But for me, it means setting aside a large chunk of time and saying no to lots of other things. It’s possible to write a book in 20-minute segments, in the morning before you start your day. That sounds nice. But it’s totally unreasonable for me.
I write a book the way I fall in love.
It’s obsessive and all-consuming and makes me lose track of days and I forget to eat and I dream about the book and we get lost in our own little world.
I can’t be in love for just 20 minutes in the morning.
I’ve been keeping all this to myself because accountability can suck. I didn’t tell anyone when I was taking my driver’s test, because if I failed, no one would know. But even if I fail at writing this book (what does that even mean?) I still want to be honest about what I’m doing.
Many parts of my existence are still a mystery; why do I have such a deep distrust of hippos? Will I ever get enough protein? Why can’t I sit in a chair like a normal person?
Despite the confusion I feel around many aspects of my life, I know something for sure. I am a writer.
And life is too fucking short to not write a book.
A friend of mine has breast cancer. Another is dealing with Multiple Sclerosis. Nothing is guaranteed. So what will I do with this one wild and precious life?
I’m gonna lock myself up behind a screen and type, thank you.
Here’s what else happened this week:
What I’m reading
I loved this piece on how not doing a hike was a life-changing event. I deeply related to the idea of physical training being essential to a healthier mind. (And yes, one of his pups looks just like Olive.)
What else I’m reading
I’ve been obsessing lately about this idea of a Midlife Renaissance, rather than a crisis. She’s modeling that beautifully.
Sarah McLachlan Is Resurfacing
The Canadian songwriter became a superstar through a series of defiant decisions. After slowing down to be a single mother, she has returned to the stage and studio.
What brought endless amounts of joy (and mud)
Olive used to be terrified of the water. But she has been watching other dogs and bravely dipping a toe in. What an honor to take her to the lake and watch her romp and play and get absolutely disgusting. It was a beautiful day, and I’ve re-lived it through this video way too many times.
Here today, gone….soon
I’ve got some new photos for signing and personalizing! But they will only be available until the end of June. In July, all signed photos will be going back in the vault for a bit. I’ve got photos from Mrs. Doubtfire, Independence Day, and my author headshot! International shipping is available, and a portion of the proceeds are donated to my nonprofit Mission Flexible.
Thank you for reading, my friends. Writing to you is such a pleasure.
This newsletter will continue through July! While I am on hiatus, reader favorites that you might have missed will be delivered to your inbox.
Much love,
~Lisa