To answer the question at the top: yes. I often find myself asking, does the world really need my writing? And the answer is a resounding no, it doesn’t. But I need it, just as much as I need all (okay, most) of the written works I read, just to keep getting out of bed and walking through the burning world without going up in my flames myself, you know? So I keep doing it. I often feel like I should be doing more, to actually put out the flames. But it’s so overwhelming.
I'm going to say Yes, the world needs my writing. Just as we need all the stories of everyone else. Stories, personal stories, oral history were here long before books, and they helped us live, learn, survive. I'm currently reading Demon Copperhead (at a clip of 100-200 pages a day), thanking the stars that Barbara Kingsolver finally wrote the story of her people. I've written so many stories about my own people, and keep writing them knowing someday someone is going to want to know "whatever happened to those mid-Missouri hicks and their language? How did they keep going in the face of poverty, war, discrimination?" And the stories of my own life with all its various challenges. My story is that of many, not the majority, but enough. I read to learn about the world through the stories of its people.
To answer the question at the top, yes, all the time. Well, not all the time because that would be paralyzing. Been through that, zero out of ten, do not recommend. But often times I ask myself what’s the point of writing some silly story about my life with all the other things going on in the world? On my better days, I tell myself that making someone laugh is a good thing and maybe their laughter will bring a little joy or peace into their life, and maybe that joy or peace will touch the lives of some people in their life. It’s a nice thought, but I’m suspicious of nice thoughts like that because they make me wonder if I’m just fooling myself. On my more challenging days I really struggle to find a larger meaning to my work. What I’ve learned over the years, and I really do have to remind myself of this from time to time, is that it’s OK if there isn’t a larger meaning. Actually, my work comes out better when I don’t worry about trying to find a larger meaning. For me, that question adds a crushing weight of expectation that really puts me in a bind. It’s like I’m asking a silly piece about some awkward that happened to me to save the world, heal humanity, or change a stranger’s life for the better. That’s a very tall order for any piece of writing. But by lowering the stakes, I find that I’m more likely to write something that resonates with someone. And no, that won’t save them or fix them or heal them, but it’ll speak to them and that’s always my goal. Plus, if I don’t get too wrapped up in my own existential writing angst, I usually have free time to volunteer for a political cause I believe in, or show up in some way for another human being in my community. It’s small ball, I realize, but I’m a big believer in playing small ball (for non-baseball fans, that means walks, sacrifice flies, bunts, as opposed to home runs).
Also, so glad you included Alex’s piece! His writing is always so smart and funny and vulnerable.
Btw, last week’s question was great! I still don’t know if my life is big or small or if size even matters. But I keep turning the question over in my mind. Thank you for the food for thought.
Thank you for this morning's installment of Spark and the links. So good to remember that people are writing and caring and joking, no matter what is happening in this world.
Betsy, thank you for thinking big this week and sharing with us. Thanks for the reminder that even when taking big, the small things matter.
I love what Didem Tali says ...”that the steady diet of “bad news” that makes those of us far from harm’s way feel helpless is not necessarily countered by the fluff at the opposite end of the spectrum of news coverage, but by more stories centered on how people use what they have to live lives of meaning and purpose.”
Excellent post. Like Sandra de Helen, I also just finished Demon Copperhead, and I predict it will be my favorite book of 2023. Last night I started Rebecca Makkai's newest, I Have Some Questions for You, and it promises to be another great read from her (love her books -- and she has a Substack too!).
I am holding close the suggestion to focus on “how people use what they have to live lives of meaning and purpose.” That (and laughter, when I can achieve it) seems the only way to recenter myself of late. Please know that I find your writing to be a place of grace and empathy amid the chaos!
To answer the question at the top: yes. I often find myself asking, does the world really need my writing? And the answer is a resounding no, it doesn’t. But I need it, just as much as I need all (okay, most) of the written works I read, just to keep getting out of bed and walking through the burning world without going up in my flames myself, you know? So I keep doing it. I often feel like I should be doing more, to actually put out the flames. But it’s so overwhelming.
I'm going to say Yes, the world needs my writing. Just as we need all the stories of everyone else. Stories, personal stories, oral history were here long before books, and they helped us live, learn, survive. I'm currently reading Demon Copperhead (at a clip of 100-200 pages a day), thanking the stars that Barbara Kingsolver finally wrote the story of her people. I've written so many stories about my own people, and keep writing them knowing someday someone is going to want to know "whatever happened to those mid-Missouri hicks and their language? How did they keep going in the face of poverty, war, discrimination?" And the stories of my own life with all its various challenges. My story is that of many, not the majority, but enough. I read to learn about the world through the stories of its people.
To answer the question at the top, yes, all the time. Well, not all the time because that would be paralyzing. Been through that, zero out of ten, do not recommend. But often times I ask myself what’s the point of writing some silly story about my life with all the other things going on in the world? On my better days, I tell myself that making someone laugh is a good thing and maybe their laughter will bring a little joy or peace into their life, and maybe that joy or peace will touch the lives of some people in their life. It’s a nice thought, but I’m suspicious of nice thoughts like that because they make me wonder if I’m just fooling myself. On my more challenging days I really struggle to find a larger meaning to my work. What I’ve learned over the years, and I really do have to remind myself of this from time to time, is that it’s OK if there isn’t a larger meaning. Actually, my work comes out better when I don’t worry about trying to find a larger meaning. For me, that question adds a crushing weight of expectation that really puts me in a bind. It’s like I’m asking a silly piece about some awkward that happened to me to save the world, heal humanity, or change a stranger’s life for the better. That’s a very tall order for any piece of writing. But by lowering the stakes, I find that I’m more likely to write something that resonates with someone. And no, that won’t save them or fix them or heal them, but it’ll speak to them and that’s always my goal. Plus, if I don’t get too wrapped up in my own existential writing angst, I usually have free time to volunteer for a political cause I believe in, or show up in some way for another human being in my community. It’s small ball, I realize, but I’m a big believer in playing small ball (for non-baseball fans, that means walks, sacrifice flies, bunts, as opposed to home runs).
Also, so glad you included Alex’s piece! His writing is always so smart and funny and vulnerable.
Btw, last week’s question was great! I still don’t know if my life is big or small or if size even matters. But I keep turning the question over in my mind. Thank you for the food for thought.
Thank you for this morning's installment of Spark and the links. So good to remember that people are writing and caring and joking, no matter what is happening in this world.
Betsy, thank you for thinking big this week and sharing with us. Thanks for the reminder that even when taking big, the small things matter.
I love what Didem Tali says ...”that the steady diet of “bad news” that makes those of us far from harm’s way feel helpless is not necessarily countered by the fluff at the opposite end of the spectrum of news coverage, but by more stories centered on how people use what they have to live lives of meaning and purpose.”
I’m going to hold this sentiment close this week.
Betsy you are an amazing writer! What a gift you have and thank you for taking advantage of it! I should say this more often but life takes over!
Excellent post. Like Sandra de Helen, I also just finished Demon Copperhead, and I predict it will be my favorite book of 2023. Last night I started Rebecca Makkai's newest, I Have Some Questions for You, and it promises to be another great read from her (love her books -- and she has a Substack too!).
I am holding close the suggestion to focus on “how people use what they have to live lives of meaning and purpose.” That (and laughter, when I can achieve it) seems the only way to recenter myself of late. Please know that I find your writing to be a place of grace and empathy amid the chaos!