Sometimes what’s in our heart is not worth public consumption, so what do we write about then?
Well, here’s trying to answer that question. Of what do we write when we are feeling so down or lost or blue or sorry-for-ourselves that no one would possibly want to read what we have to say?
Well, I suppose the first thing we’d do is not blame anyone else for what we are feeling. I suppose the first thing we’d do is say, “Well, here it is. Here I am. I feel what I feel. And perhaps the only reason that there’s any worth in writing this is that there might be others out there who are also feeling just a little bit lost, or at-sea, or flummoxed with this difficult job market and all the rest.”
Okay, that’s not too bad. That’s not blaming anyone; that’s just admitting that I’m feeling like I’m in a rough spot right now. At the same time, I also must say this: I’m among the lucky ones. I have a good, solid roof over my head. I have a good education. I have a wonderful, terrific, spouse who is immensely supportive of me – even when I’m a little off of my game.
Last year I published (thanks to my dear friend and great supporter Katerina Stoykova-Klemer) my first chapbook. I’m deeply grateful. Katerina went on to nominate the second chapter of that book for a Pushcart Prize, for which I am also very grateful. Last year, I also earned my MFA in Writing, for which I am ALSO grateful. And yet… and yet… here I find myself in a sort of limbo, a sort of haze, a sort of . . . lost feeling.
I’m applying for jobs, although I’m not sure I’m doing the best job of it. I’m continuing to work, sporadically, but not enough. I’m not writing nearly enough as I need to. It’s as if I’ve lost faith. In myself. In my voice. In my work.
Boo-hoo, stop feeling sorry for yourself, you over-educated, self-indulgent asshole!!
Yeah, those are my sentiments exactly. There is no time to feel sorry for one’s self. There is no time to wallow in self-pity or to endlessly engage in “what-if” questions. Therefore, the time has come to move the f**k on. As a good friend of mine likes to put it, “Get on with the bitch!” Indeed. And I shall. This I vow, with this blog post. It’s the only reason I’m posting this. So anyone who reads this can, perhaps, be helpful in holding me accountable to moving on and getting on with it.
When I graduated with my MFA, Tori Murden McClure, the newly named president of Spalding University discussed in her address to our graduating class how these newly graduated MFAs might be emotionally vulnerable for a while, but she assured family and friends that we’d be okay eventually. Well, that eventually has come for me. It’s time to get back to work. Time to turn the page, so to speak.
Thank you for your indulgence.
Namaste.
I wonder if there is such as thing as "post traumatic MFA syndrome?" Just kidding, but what you have written sounds exactly how I've felt on and off. I have spurts of optimism and faith in my writing and then that disappears. My remedy as of late has been to step back from words for a while and dive into our Spanish cuisine food cart business. Feels a little crazy, but maybe that is different enough to fill the empty well.
ReplyDeleteReading your post and then Christina's comment, I'd offer that it may be wiser to have "faith in writing" rather that "faith in my writing". The process is the salve, not the product. And even if your words remain unread, by having been written, the thoughts they express have been unfettered and the machine has been oiled.
ReplyDeleteAs you know, Patti and I are embarking on a major life change, and I've begun writing about it - with encouragement from her, and perhaps unknowingly from you. The words I write will certainly remain unread, as they must to ensure the safety of others. But by bringing focus to the emotions and angst I've felt recently I've been able to clear the chalkboard for more productive thought (which had been gravely lacking). So go ahead and snivel, whine, complain and navel gaze... it's all good. Write on, Brother!
Cristina - I'm sorry to hear that you've been experiencing similar feelings at times, but also somewhat relieved to know that I'm not the only one. Perhaps there IS such a thing as "post traumatic MFA syndrome."
ReplyDeleteScott - Thanks for your words, and your distinction about the writing process itself being the salve is duly noted. I'm glad to hear you are writing about your current situation and that I have been of some encouragement to you in this process. Thanks!!