The Path of Foolish Optimism
Oof.
That's the only way to start a newsletter these days, right?
That or: WHAT IS TIME? Because this is supposed to be a monthly newsletter, and I have no idea if I sent out a June newsletter, and I'm squeaking this at the very last second to have it be a July newsletter.
When we all went into lockdown in March, I was working on a revision of a middle grade novel. I was on target to finish by the end of April. And then everything turned upside down and I didn't do any writing at all and focused on keeping my family alive and also pretending that this was all a fun adventure (let's bake bread! let's watch movies!) so we didn't all spiral too fast into despair.
We still spiraled into despair, like everyone, but I think I managed to pump the brakes on the despair train. But at a certain point, say, mid-May, I realized that while much of my despair was pandemic-related, part of it was not-writing related. I know that I feel better about everything if I'm writing. But I, reasonably, had other things to worry about.
And still this middle-grade revision was sitting on my desk, unfinished. Taunting me. Writing felt pointless. We don't even know what tomorrow's going to bring, let alone next month or six months from now, let alone 2024 (optimistic possible publication year for this not-under-contract book).
I sat in the pointlessness for a few months there, wallowing, on the despair train, and then I realized that wasn't helping anything. Like I said, I feel better when I write. And not writing -- not only did that make me feel worse about everything, it was also assuming a grim hopelessness about the world that was a bit too big of a giant dark cloud. I want to believe the world will still be here in 2024 and books will still be published. I want to believe that my books will be published.
Besides that, it's a pride thing. Do I want to come out of this with no words written? I mean, if I manage to stay alive, and keep my family alive, then sure, who cares. But ALSO if I can keep everyone alive (and happy!?) AND finish this revision, and start on the next one? Well, obviously that's better.
The pandemic has exposed a lot of our cores. Who we are deep down inside. I know I've been all over the place with emotions and truths. I've tried despair and hopelessness. It wasn't for me. I prefer hope. And OH GOSH do I ever prefer writing. Again, maybe it's pride ("I WROTE WORDS! LOOK AT ME!"). But there's something deeper. There's something in the process of taking my thoughts and emotions and writing them into fictional characters that grounds and centers me. It's a foolish, hopeful act, by design. The chances that a manuscript will become an actual book for strangers to read is never guaranteed. I'm not being self deprecating, it's just a fact.
Maybe the lesson of the past four months is that life is a foolish and hopeful act, and the best way to swim in the river is to be foolish and hopeful right along with it.
So I'm going to keep writing. I'm not being as productive as I'd like to get this revision done soon (I had been hoping to get it done today, which isn't going to happen. New goal is next Friday, which is also doubtful. I use Pacemaker to help me set my writing goals, and you can see from the graph above that my work (which is set as daily-pages-revised) has been all over the place.
(I'm doing this revision by retyping the entire manuscript, which is a slow process but a great way to expose problems with voice and story, both big and small. But it helps explain why this revision is taking me so long.)
But even on days when I only do three pages, that's still three more pages. I'll do what I can, I'll keep moving forward, and I'll keep having the foolish hope that this book will be finished, and I'll write another one, and another one.
We go from day to day to day, living our lives, in the optimistic hope that we'll get through this pandemic and see stronger and better times on the other side. So I'm going to be hopeful, and I'm going to write stories.
Let’s Talk About Masks
We're going to be wearing masks in public places for a while now. Why not get ones you like? I sewed some myself and want to sew more, but am really focusing on this revision (see above), so in the meantime I've been buying some from small shops to see what we like. So far my favorites are the ones from a beloved local shop, Kurier (which is where the floral one I'm wearing in the photo is from) (she is also making clogs now -- I have two pairs and I HIGHLY recommend them, if you're someone who loves cute clogs). We also got some great ones from Diop in gorgeous fabrics that fit very well, plus Diop is a Black-owned business and donates to Feed the Frontlines in Detroit for every mask sold.
Tell me if you have a favorite small-business-made mask!