“A devoted runner!” the crossing guard called to me as she parted the traffic in driving 45-degree rain, Moses of suburbia. I expressed something half-formed, midway between a smile and a “hm!”, as I ran by. This, my perennial problem: l’esprit de l’escalier. I am slow on my feet, in running but also unexpected encouragement or discouragement; I need at least a mile to mull. So, after the moment had passed, I thought: Only I’m not. I’m sporadic and slow, untuned and untimed. A begrudging runner if anything; a laggard in leggings. After all, it had taken me thirty minutes to work up the nerve to brave the cold rain that morning. I kept waiting for a break that did not come, and had to reach for other attenuations: “There’s no such thing as bad weather,” I repeated to myself, as I pulled on my parka and gloves and stared into the poolings on the pavestone. And again when my shoes soaked through within sixty seconds of leaving the cosset of my home: There’s no such thing as bad weather. This time with a current of causticity. But after I’d run through all the reasons I could not be considered “a devoted runner,” I ran lightly with the guard’s encouragement nonetheless: a little bird surprised by happenstance nourishment.
I thought: How little it takes to spur myself on — only a stray word from a stranger!
And yet — I was out there with the rain and the birds and the sodden feet before her encouragement, too. And I would do well to praise myself for this determination, whether I consider myself a runner or not.
I thought then, as I often do, of how life’s tiniest moments read like metaphors for writing, and vice versa, because —
I am accustomed to the unseen feeling: most writing reads in a silent room; the creative routinely shares to no response. This is a common misconception about writing, I think: you don’t write to be heard, to be listened to, certainly not to be praised; you write to reveal form. I think sometimes of the artist as a plumber. You are working with the pipes downstairs. You may never know that the work you did last week drew a warm and welcome bath for a tired body. You are in fact completely unaware of where it ends up, and what the water looks like to the waiting woman upstairs. You are just tightening and connecting; swapping out copper pieces, often in the dark, sometimes with a little unwelcome mud or grit or water, tapping into the subterranean, tinkering your way to an unblocked flow.
And so when you receive a word of encouragement, you feel lit-up and unalone, and yet you know — you must know — you will continue to create, even in the silence; mainly in the silence.
I write this today thinking of a friend of mine who gave up on writing because she felt she had been turned down too many times. She wanted to publish a book, and had a few “we regret to inform you…” letters, maybe one with helpful criticism, but mainly heard nothing at all. I of course wanted to comfort her; to build her up. To howl against the short-sightedness of the agents and publishers. But I also wanted to say: most of us create in silence. This is I think the condition of it. Most of the time, we are running alone in the rain, inventing any number of secret rationales and mantras to keep ourselves in motion. Anything to keep the speed. Anything to form one bright streak through the squall. When we are lucky, some god calls out: “I see you in your devotions!” and you think how lucky and light your feet feel, but this is the exception rather than the rule.
So onward!, as we say. Keep going, even in the quiet, the rain, the dark. Especially in those conditions. Write into it.
Post Scripts.
+”The cold dark is an aperitif. I climb out of my mind and into my body.“
+More thoughts for disillusioned writers.
+When do you feel most like a mother?
+How Magpies “reset” for the week.
+How do you fill your cup in under an hour?
Shopping Break.
+Some great new markdowns at Nordstrom: my favorite cropped sweatpants, a great terry pullover (I own in multiple colors), and chic jelly sandals for pool days!
+Perfect striped t-shirt dress.
+I’m not sure when it will go live this morning, but Doen is dropping a final spring capsule today! They sent me a sneak peek and I had to have this ethereal little white top called the Nera top!
+OMG this gorgeous top!
+We’re almost to Agolde Parker season.
+I’m in love with vitamin c for my skin – I think a lot of us are. It’s the first, unmovable step in my skincare process in the morning. I’ve often likened it to “turning the lights on” in my skin — immediate, visible change. My two longtime favorite vit c products: Biossance oil (light, quick to absorb) and Goop. (I know many readers are devotees of Skinceuticals but there are enough reports of its offputting smell to deter me. Plus, it’s much more expensive!). What are your thoughts?
+This floral one-piece! With these sunshine yellow pants over.
+Sweetest shape sorter / stacking toy for babies! I have this in my cart as a baby shower gift add on.
+I just received these red gauze pants ($39!) and am obsessed with them. Super soft and the tomato red color is so fun! This is the kind of thing I like to throw on with a striped sweater for easy everyday wear.
+A great white top to pair with everything.
+Adorable girls’ raincoat.
+Obsessed with this dark wash denim dress.
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Very timely- I recently found out that my two year old next door neighbor – who I barely know!- is obsessed with me. Her mom told me in the elevator that she’s constantly talking about me and every time they hear my door open in the morning, she says “Miss Anna is going for a run!” I was incredibly touched that my mundane daily routines loom so large in this child’s very small world. I also went for a very rainy, charmless run yesterday, but this revelation cast that in a new light. The idea that this child is setting their internal clock by my daily routine is the extra bit of motivation I need on days like that.
OMG! How adorable!! I love this insight, too — how you might be going about your business and making deep impressions on people without knowing it!
xx
I have some thoughts to share today on writing. When I was 10 years old, I just finished reading A Wrinkle in Time. It is the first time I remember thinking, “Who who are you?“ I turned over the back cover of the book and wanted to know more about the author. I wanted to know who could think such grand thoughts and change the way I see the universe. It was the inimitable Madeleine L’Engle. After that book, I wanted to know her thoughts. I read everything she wrote.. I was fortunate enough in my late 30s to spend a weekend workshop in Asheville North Carolina. Madeleine almost gave up trying to publish books because A Wrinkle in Time was turned down so many times. Editors didn’t think it was a children’s story, and that the subject matter was too serious and that the vocabulary was too erudite. I am so glad that she didn’t give up writing.One of the pithier things that she said was, “Writers write!” She also said, “ When the book is finished, it belongs to the reader.”. The most whimsical yet also profound quote about writing came from her Newberry Medal acceptance speech for that first book that made me think about the creator of the story. “A book, too, can be a star, a living fire to lighten the darkness, leading out into the expanding universe.” I think something more magical happens when a writer writes a story, and a reader truly receives the story. There is a spiritual relationship of sorts that is formed. The to are connected in ways, through invisible threads, When the story or thought is beautiful, it changes both the reader on the writer and weaves a small web of love between them. Words and thoughts are powerful things, endowed with body, weight, and wings. Your words often touch me, Jen. They come out of the world of a deep soul. Please keep writing.
Oh my gosh – what beautiful words, and sentiments, and thank you so much for the incredibly kind compliment. What an experience, to have crossed paths with L’Engle! I also had a major connection to that book in fifth grade and am glad you shared a bit of the struggle and backstory behind its publication. So glad she persisted. Thanks for writing this; I couldn’t agree with your sentiments more.
Onward!