Hi friends. It’s spring and almost everyone in my life has gotten at least one vaccination shot and dare I say I have hope again? I drove to Mississippi yesterday and saw some art at a small museum I had never visited before, and one of the installations
Wow. Thank you, Jami. This newsletter is truly my exact experience with my project at this moment. You sharing this has invigorated me and left me feeling less alone. I am very grateful. Maybe I'll mention this too, since it has some similarities to your post -- I read your post yesterday on a bench in a quiet alcove of The Metropolitan Museum of Art and was moved to tears because it is exactly what's been on my mind -- how will I tackle rethinking the thrust of a project I've been working on for years after it went out on submission and had no takers. I'd gone to the museum to look for "the oldest art I can find" so I could see things that had survived and were still standing and beautiful and here. I particularly wanted to see the greek sculptures that were missing arms and legs because I've felt like them this week. I thought that being around that kind of survival might make me feel less afraid about what I'm have to do next if I want to make something great. I don't live in the city anymore. I moved upstate, outside of the city three years ago, and I've been mostly in isolation for the last year with my small family. Reading your post in the energy of that space, one of my first times out in the "real world" (and my old home) in a year, surrounded by all the people wearing masks and taking in art because art is so critical; it felt like a sort of serendipity. I always gobble up your newsletter and appreciate your generosity, but, this one I'm going to tattoo this one under my eyelids. Thank you.
I am working on a novel (that became a series) that is a big undertaking and have wrestled and wrestled (several drafts in) with my "original" idea of what this will be, how it will develop. I have considered trashing the whole thing and have also undertaking a massive restructuring of the whole thing. Now, I'm thinking through a whole OTHER style of restructuring and am wondering about shifting delivery format altogether (I come to novel writing from film and also have a music background, so now I'm wondering if an experimental performance piece might be more appropriate for the story). Every time, I've explored something "new" with this project, I've gained. So, I am accepting this process of discovery, growth and change even though I have NO idea where it will lead. Sometimes the uncertainty makes me feel uneasy or impatient, but I remind myself that many of the BEST things in my life grew out of uncertainty.
Once again you magically wrote about my current experience. My novel-in-progress has changed, again and again. The most recent major change moved me to take myself away for a few days in solitude to come to terms with the shift. The time was well spent and now I feel renewed energy moving me to the page. Knowing your process also went through major changes helps me to reconcile my emotions and the work that lies in front of me. Thank you, Jami, for opening up your deep thoughts and your struggles with me, with us. I am inspired to keep going and embrace the changes that arise along the way.
Wow. Thank you, Jami. This newsletter is truly my exact experience with my project at this moment. You sharing this has invigorated me and left me feeling less alone. I am very grateful. Maybe I'll mention this too, since it has some similarities to your post -- I read your post yesterday on a bench in a quiet alcove of The Metropolitan Museum of Art and was moved to tears because it is exactly what's been on my mind -- how will I tackle rethinking the thrust of a project I've been working on for years after it went out on submission and had no takers. I'd gone to the museum to look for "the oldest art I can find" so I could see things that had survived and were still standing and beautiful and here. I particularly wanted to see the greek sculptures that were missing arms and legs because I've felt like them this week. I thought that being around that kind of survival might make me feel less afraid about what I'm have to do next if I want to make something great. I don't live in the city anymore. I moved upstate, outside of the city three years ago, and I've been mostly in isolation for the last year with my small family. Reading your post in the energy of that space, one of my first times out in the "real world" (and my old home) in a year, surrounded by all the people wearing masks and taking in art because art is so critical; it felt like a sort of serendipity. I always gobble up your newsletter and appreciate your generosity, but, this one I'm going to tattoo this one under my eyelids. Thank you.
This is so true. It’s hard not to become discouraged in this process. I don’t know if I’m getting to a better place.
I am working on a novel (that became a series) that is a big undertaking and have wrestled and wrestled (several drafts in) with my "original" idea of what this will be, how it will develop. I have considered trashing the whole thing and have also undertaking a massive restructuring of the whole thing. Now, I'm thinking through a whole OTHER style of restructuring and am wondering about shifting delivery format altogether (I come to novel writing from film and also have a music background, so now I'm wondering if an experimental performance piece might be more appropriate for the story). Every time, I've explored something "new" with this project, I've gained. So, I am accepting this process of discovery, growth and change even though I have NO idea where it will lead. Sometimes the uncertainty makes me feel uneasy or impatient, but I remind myself that many of the BEST things in my life grew out of uncertainty.
Once again you magically wrote about my current experience. My novel-in-progress has changed, again and again. The most recent major change moved me to take myself away for a few days in solitude to come to terms with the shift. The time was well spent and now I feel renewed energy moving me to the page. Knowing your process also went through major changes helps me to reconcile my emotions and the work that lies in front of me. Thank you, Jami, for opening up your deep thoughts and your struggles with me, with us. I am inspired to keep going and embrace the changes that arise along the way.
A lifebuoy tossed in the rough seas—thank you. Even my knickers-in-a-knot novel thanks you.