By next month, I will have moved four times this year. Most of my library, except for one (1!) box is in storage. So: I haven't been writing very much what I thought I would be writing so far in 2020, but I've been doing a lot of unexpected writing, like in this newsletter. But only, really, one poem and a long, undefinable lyric essay on Linda Gregg. The things I was doing in February feel a lifetime away, to put it mildly. I'm feeling cautious and optimistic, dread and joy, discombobulated generally. I made a great olive oil cake. I expect it all of these things to continue (and to change, too).
After abandoning a novel in its early stages last year, I picked it up again and have been enjoying getting to know the characters and world. I wrote a solid chunk of words last month, but am starting to taper off again as I increasingly feel embarrassed by my first draft writing quality. Do other people experience these fluctuating spurts of energy with their drafts?
I feel really sad about the state of the world, but I've kind of been thriving. Before Covid, I was constantly socializing/partying/spending energy on things that weren't really nourishing me on a deeper level. Now, I'm finally writing daily instead of just thinking about it and then doing something els. I also finally started to make digital connections with other writers and it feels really good to have some sort of community.
COVID struck almost exactly in the middle of my first year in a new city where my partner knows a lot of people and I know...none, so it felt like my first six months were spent doing a lot of awkward socializing and my second six months have not felt like I'm missing out on a ton of my regular social life/I'm not expending buckets of mental energy on meeting new people. After a few months of sickness/panic, I was able to really lean into it, and have been plugging away semi-regularly at a book draft that has nothing to do with the pandemic or loneliness, but rather about finding connection, and for that reason, feels like a kind of way out of the current reality. I had also meant this to be a year of applying to residencies/fellowships/grants/funding, and I'm just realizing that my executive function is more or less shot this year, so *shrug*
Earlier this summer I tried a method recommended by a friend: Turning off my phone at night and writing first thing in the morning for a few hours. It was successful for a time, but lately I've been finding it harder to get work done during the work week and instead block out my weekends to write.
I also have a writing group I meet with every Sunday to write and workshop together—its low pressure, so sometimes not everyone can join and that's ok—and those deadlines and the community are the most helpful motivators.
I feel like I've started to find my voice these last couple months. My confidence in my writing itself/the idea of calling myself a writer has grown and so has the joy I've found in the process. Though it's hard to say which came first as they feed each other, in love and in loathing. Frustration is ever-present but I'm appreciating and cherishing the growth. I'm a screenwriter by trade but have been opening my mind to the possibility of exploring prose in my future. Thank you for your newsletters. They have been such a gift and speak to me on an unexpectedly personal level. <3
Although I’ve been writing a lot recently (journaling, letters, flash fiction), I keep thinking about what I’m not writing—I’ve temporarily shelved my precious murder mystery. It’s not just leaving the land fallow for a season (although that plays a part). I have a sense that I need more stability (i.e. in real life) before I can fully jump into the revision process.
It’s sad, and I miss living in the story world, but I can’t wait to see my garden overgrown with ideas when I go back.
I am writing my final project for an MA in Creative Writing, I’m a journal writer, as in I’ve kept a diary (or moan/ vent/ desires and dreams book) pretty consistently for 35 years.. (I was 11 when I started).. I’m exploring poetry, my supervisor, poet Mary Jean Chan, recommend, ‘Year of blue water’, I can’t thank her enough.. your work is one of the corner stones of my research.. after reading it I felt exactly as if a missing piece I didn’t know was missing had been found. 🙏🏻 MJC has pointed me towards so many important and affirming author / artists.. I write daily, even if it’s just a few lines, or recording a scene in a dream.. even through Covid and lockdown, it is where I go to de-clutter and de-stress.. The difficulty I face is lifting this writing onto a shareable plateau.. it’s my bedrock, it’s rough as hell! Thank you Yanyi for this space to share. 🙏🏻
Thank you for starting this portion of your newsletter, Yanyi. I already look forward to The Reading and this just adds to it:) I’m writing more in some ways and less I’m others. Last year was a blur of client work and I didn’t want to repeat that exactly (little did I know how different 2020 would be.) I challenged myself to write short stories in the spring and that has turned into finding an idea for a novel that I’m drafting. I’m reaching out more than previously to find community (like here) and learn more about fiction (not coming from an mfa background.)
My writing group has been meeting online most weeks since all of this started, which has been great, but I've only just recently begun *working*, as opposed to forcing myself to scribble down nonsense I won't ever use again. But it feels good to be back in it, and I'm doing a 1000 word per day challenge this week.
It seems like a lot of people are entering an acclimated phase right now, eerily enough.
Journaling daily, which took a ton of willpower to start and stick with and now feels both ordinary and magical, reclaimed time. Tumblr-ing other people's poetry when I don't want to write my own.
Two days ago I began reading my latest draft (after a month away) of a novel I've been working on for almost two years, and it was painful how bad I found it. Yesterday I began deleting EVERY SINGLE SENTENCE I found boring or tedious and clunky. I didn't try to tinker with the language. I just slashed and burned (aka cut and pasted into a separate document lol). This radical revision felt extraordinarily good. Freeing. Like taking massive piles of clothes that no longer fit/don't like/don't wear from the closet and dumping them at Goodwill.
I write for work, and I write for my newsletter https://truecolors.substack.com/. I'd like to do more creative writing, but sometimes I have trouble making space for it.
I've actually been writing a lot due to COVID and the Black Lives Matter protests, which have really inspired me to keep going and not waste this moment. I had about a month where I was very productive but now I'm starting to hit a wall. I guess you just have to keep pushing through knowing that writing has its ebbs and flows - sometimes it feels so easy and other times it's ridiculously hard. Loving your newsletter Yanyi and I'm so glad I got to meet you virtually!
By next month, I will have moved four times this year. Most of my library, except for one (1!) box is in storage. So: I haven't been writing very much what I thought I would be writing so far in 2020, but I've been doing a lot of unexpected writing, like in this newsletter. But only, really, one poem and a long, undefinable lyric essay on Linda Gregg. The things I was doing in February feel a lifetime away, to put it mildly. I'm feeling cautious and optimistic, dread and joy, discombobulated generally. I made a great olive oil cake. I expect it all of these things to continue (and to change, too).
After abandoning a novel in its early stages last year, I picked it up again and have been enjoying getting to know the characters and world. I wrote a solid chunk of words last month, but am starting to taper off again as I increasingly feel embarrassed by my first draft writing quality. Do other people experience these fluctuating spurts of energy with their drafts?
I feel really sad about the state of the world, but I've kind of been thriving. Before Covid, I was constantly socializing/partying/spending energy on things that weren't really nourishing me on a deeper level. Now, I'm finally writing daily instead of just thinking about it and then doing something els. I also finally started to make digital connections with other writers and it feels really good to have some sort of community.
COVID struck almost exactly in the middle of my first year in a new city where my partner knows a lot of people and I know...none, so it felt like my first six months were spent doing a lot of awkward socializing and my second six months have not felt like I'm missing out on a ton of my regular social life/I'm not expending buckets of mental energy on meeting new people. After a few months of sickness/panic, I was able to really lean into it, and have been plugging away semi-regularly at a book draft that has nothing to do with the pandemic or loneliness, but rather about finding connection, and for that reason, feels like a kind of way out of the current reality. I had also meant this to be a year of applying to residencies/fellowships/grants/funding, and I'm just realizing that my executive function is more or less shot this year, so *shrug*
Earlier this summer I tried a method recommended by a friend: Turning off my phone at night and writing first thing in the morning for a few hours. It was successful for a time, but lately I've been finding it harder to get work done during the work week and instead block out my weekends to write.
I also have a writing group I meet with every Sunday to write and workshop together—its low pressure, so sometimes not everyone can join and that's ok—and those deadlines and the community are the most helpful motivators.
I feel like I've started to find my voice these last couple months. My confidence in my writing itself/the idea of calling myself a writer has grown and so has the joy I've found in the process. Though it's hard to say which came first as they feed each other, in love and in loathing. Frustration is ever-present but I'm appreciating and cherishing the growth. I'm a screenwriter by trade but have been opening my mind to the possibility of exploring prose in my future. Thank you for your newsletters. They have been such a gift and speak to me on an unexpectedly personal level. <3
Although I’ve been writing a lot recently (journaling, letters, flash fiction), I keep thinking about what I’m not writing—I’ve temporarily shelved my precious murder mystery. It’s not just leaving the land fallow for a season (although that plays a part). I have a sense that I need more stability (i.e. in real life) before I can fully jump into the revision process.
It’s sad, and I miss living in the story world, but I can’t wait to see my garden overgrown with ideas when I go back.
I am writing my final project for an MA in Creative Writing, I’m a journal writer, as in I’ve kept a diary (or moan/ vent/ desires and dreams book) pretty consistently for 35 years.. (I was 11 when I started).. I’m exploring poetry, my supervisor, poet Mary Jean Chan, recommend, ‘Year of blue water’, I can’t thank her enough.. your work is one of the corner stones of my research.. after reading it I felt exactly as if a missing piece I didn’t know was missing had been found. 🙏🏻 MJC has pointed me towards so many important and affirming author / artists.. I write daily, even if it’s just a few lines, or recording a scene in a dream.. even through Covid and lockdown, it is where I go to de-clutter and de-stress.. The difficulty I face is lifting this writing onto a shareable plateau.. it’s my bedrock, it’s rough as hell! Thank you Yanyi for this space to share. 🙏🏻
Thank you for starting this portion of your newsletter, Yanyi. I already look forward to The Reading and this just adds to it:) I’m writing more in some ways and less I’m others. Last year was a blur of client work and I didn’t want to repeat that exactly (little did I know how different 2020 would be.) I challenged myself to write short stories in the spring and that has turned into finding an idea for a novel that I’m drafting. I’m reaching out more than previously to find community (like here) and learn more about fiction (not coming from an mfa background.)
My writing group has been meeting online most weeks since all of this started, which has been great, but I've only just recently begun *working*, as opposed to forcing myself to scribble down nonsense I won't ever use again. But it feels good to be back in it, and I'm doing a 1000 word per day challenge this week.
It seems like a lot of people are entering an acclimated phase right now, eerily enough.
Journaling daily, which took a ton of willpower to start and stick with and now feels both ordinary and magical, reclaimed time. Tumblr-ing other people's poetry when I don't want to write my own.
Two days ago I began reading my latest draft (after a month away) of a novel I've been working on for almost two years, and it was painful how bad I found it. Yesterday I began deleting EVERY SINGLE SENTENCE I found boring or tedious and clunky. I didn't try to tinker with the language. I just slashed and burned (aka cut and pasted into a separate document lol). This radical revision felt extraordinarily good. Freeing. Like taking massive piles of clothes that no longer fit/don't like/don't wear from the closet and dumping them at Goodwill.
I write for work, and I write for my newsletter https://truecolors.substack.com/. I'd like to do more creative writing, but sometimes I have trouble making space for it.
I've actually been writing a lot due to COVID and the Black Lives Matter protests, which have really inspired me to keep going and not waste this moment. I had about a month where I was very productive but now I'm starting to hit a wall. I guess you just have to keep pushing through knowing that writing has its ebbs and flows - sometimes it feels so easy and other times it's ridiculously hard. Loving your newsletter Yanyi and I'm so glad I got to meet you virtually!