Trust
I always felt you write a narrative for yourself, and that’s the thread you follow from one day to the next
A Different Sober. Twenty-nine posts in, and it’s Friday. A decent day to take stock. The commitment is there, the turning up—but is any of it landing?
Unintentional, but #29 was my son’s number in college lacrosse. Endicott briefly considered retiring the shirt… then thought again. Haha, sorry K. Always proud of what you achieved then—and what you’re achieving now.
So, trust has been on my mind. If pressed, I would say writing soothes me; it doesn’t always come easily, but when it does, it helps to fill holes and gives a reassuring sense of purpose.
Paul Auster, the American novelist who passed last year, had this to say about writing (spoiler, wanna be writers look away):
“Don’t be a writer; it’s a terrible way to live your life. There’s nothing to be gained from it but poverty and obscurity and solitude. So if you have a taste for all those things — which means you’re really burning to do it — then go ahead. But don’t expect anything from anybody.”
Honest, if nothing else. And yet, here we are.
Twenty-nine days of turning up. Some posts have landed, some haven’t—I feel the difference even if I can’t always see it. Am I being preachy? Probably, sometimes. Enough storytelling? Not always. Enough comedy? You can be the judge.
I always felt you write a narrative for yourself, and that’s the thread you follow from one day to the next—this isn’t the case, you write for something bigger than you, the readers and beyond. And the trust? Well, you leave that with the reader, right? One of the first rules Paul Auster would have you follow is, “Show, don’t tell.”
29, 99, 109, whatever, trust the narrative. Keep going. Fail a little better.
Nick
Links:
Paul Auster: a great American writer of sophistication, innovation and intellect
It’s working 👍