I'm writing more because the world is on fire

I don't know; we all break in different ways

Hey, it’s been a minute! How the hell are ya? If you’re doing the “look around” thing with your hands, I see you. If the answer is okay, I also see you and know that maybe you’re like me and you don’t actually mean it, so I also see you. Hah. Anyway, I hope you’re okay, I wish you nice things, and I’m glad to be back here, especially because I want to talk about writing.

There are no rules when it comes to writing, and the same goes for the way we deal with things. I know folks who mourn by crying and talking. They like company and appreciate a shoulder to cry on and a pair of ears ready to listen. I know folks who mourn by vanishing. I know folks who mourn by getting angry or getting high. Point is, whatever works you are is okay when it comes to mental health. In my case, I turn to the things I love most when I’m worried and angry. More music, more books, more movies. That’s my therapy. Well, that and scrolling through Instagram and watching that old man who makes milkshakes and floats, videos of people cooking delicious things, apartments in New York City I’ll never rent, art, bits of musical performances, people getting hurt, books, puppies, and tattoos. I also write a lot.

Writing is the thing, right? I think you don’t have to be a writer to understand that. For writers, this isn’t a job; this is who we are. Michael Jordan? His thing was basketball. Pavarotti and Aretha sang. O'Keeffe and Picasso and Velázquez painted. King and Butler and Lispector and Shelley and Ellroy and Morrison and Woolf and Poe and Borges and Vonnegut and Murakami wrote or still write. That’s the thing, and the thing is powerful if you can find it, give yourself to it. So yeah, writing is the thing for me, so I turn to it in times of trouble. Right now, I’m so worried about everything–including the future of my career–that I’m working on three (or four–whatever) books at the same time. I’m also reading even more than usual in an attempt to stop doomscrolling.

So yeah, my response to the world being on fire is to scream and complain and make phone calls and support every community being attacked, but also sharing memes that might make someone laugh (we all fucking need it) and writing. A lot. Writing because freedom of speech, yeah? Writing because I need to put the anger somewhere. Writing because I want to keep dreaming that there is a career for all of us during and after this shitshow is over. Writing because we need to keep putting out the kinds of books fascists hate. Writing because not having a contract feels weird and a little scary, especially now. Writing because I want to go back to France. Writing because for the longest time they told me that I couldn’t, that I shouldn’t. Writing because not writing is not an option. Writing because that’s what writers do. Writing not to ignore the world but to process it, to scream and fight in a different way. Writing because I must.

I hope you find the thing that keeps you going. If that thing is writing, I look forward to reading whatever you put out next. Anyway, I went hiking in Colorado for a few days and was in a snowstorm in the Rockies. Photos soon…