Or, perhaps, unhappy groundhog day. The little guy saw his shadow, if you hadn't already heard—and honestly, same. I feel that. Things appear cold and dark, at present.
Okay. Let's get into it. I have an inconsequential confession to make. Not like a fun, "this is a set up for a big personal achievement!" type of confession, mind you; more a "hey, I've been kind of low-key lying" type of thing.
I didn't write a word of fiction in January—or really work on my novel much at all—even after repeatedly saying I was going to.
There are a number of factors contributing to this dearth of words: it's winter, and bleak (seasonal affective disorder, anyone?); I spent a good chunk of the last month alone (on the bright side, that was because my wife was out doing incredible things through her work!); and, frankly, because my professional life has been...fraught, let's say.*
Most of you know, or could find out from a quick search online, that I work for the federal government. You may have also noticed that federal workers have been in the news quite a bit, over the past weeks. I don't know your views on the corresponding topics; please believe me when I say that I respect them, whatever they are. But, regardless of your views, I hope that you might be able to empathize with how folks in federal service, along with their loved ones, are feeling right now. The mission and mandate of work in the public sector can feel overwhelming at the best of times; right now, it's enervating. Exhausting. Bleak. I've been ending my days feeling hollow, world-weary, and worn down—and I have things relatively good.
This is not a state conducive to creating art. So I haven't been writing, no matter how much I wish I could.
Part of that is the exhaustion. But, to be honest, it's also the feeling—the fear?—that the art I'm trying to make will pale against the enormity of all that has happened, is happening, will happen.
I've been tight-lipped about the content of the novel I'm working on, but sharing a bit now is relevant, I think. Project Curses is, perhaps unsurprisingly, about a group of people meeting and dealing with their curses—magical and mundane—in a cozy, comfortable coffee shop. It's meant to be warm and inviting, vulnerable and hopeful. But, given present circumstances, it feels deeply unserious and naïve.
Or, at least, it did.
I'd been feeling down and doubtful about finishing the novel until last week, when I came across encouragement in a semi-expected place. I listen, on occasion, to a podcast called Print Run, hosted by a couple of literary agents who are typically pretty dour about the state of the publishing industry and the world writ-large. In this episode though, they were—well, righteously indignant—but also kind of hopeful. Encouraging. This set of quotes, in particular, struck me (like, I literally stopped washing dishes and stared into the distance):
"[Cozy books] have a very necessary function to provide breathing room for the reader, and a space for them to start to process big, scary things, or just to take a break from it and get a little escapism....
"But there's also something there that's a little underhanded—in a good way—in terms of politics. We are in and about to be entered into an even more precarious economic situation in this country and in the world. And what people yearn for, when there are difficulties economically, are community and safety. So a book series about a shop where things are warm and people are fed and can gather and have a support system—that's promoting some very important ideals that are very in opposition to what we are being peddled through the news."
And like...yeah. That's it. That why I wrote the novel in the first place—as a refuge for myself, and for others. I wanted to make people feel safe. Cared for. I wanted to explore alternative ways of being and relating, and to celebrate the beauty that rises out of mutual support and collective aid. I wanted to imagine something different and good, because something has to be imagined before it can be invoked.
I lost sight of those intentions, in recent weeks; I won't let that happen again. Offering hope—imagining hope—is worthwhile. Especially right now.
I don't know if any of this is helpful to you—to be honest, I wrote this for myself. But I hope it resonates. And I hope you're doing okay. And I'm here if you need someone.
*As always, I wish to emphasize that I am absolutely not speaking in my professional capacity and that all views expressed here are my own.
☕️ Project Curses
Right—so, as confessed above, work on Project Curses has been, charitably, slow. Nevertheless! I did manage to review all of my notes last month, and I have a plan (read: a loose list of all the things I need to do attached to an unrealistic timeline).
At present, that plan calls for me to do everything I can to remove friction from the revision process—organizing my notes, setting up routines, conducting research, tidying spreadsheets, and otherwise smoothing away anything that could prove a distraction when it comes time to revise. I'm not sure how long this will take—I'm hoping just a week or so—but once done I'll have no choice but to revise!
And listen—I know all of that sounds like procrastinating, and that's because it is. It's just doing all of my procrastinating at once, up front. It works for me, okay? Trust the process.
📚 Reading
The Saint of Bright Doors by Vajra Chandrasekera | This book is, at once, an expansive, imaginative fantasy epic, a commentary on modern technology, a satire of colonial history, a critique of Sri Lankan politics, a protest, a parable, and a page-turner. If that sounds like a lot, it's because it is—and yet, Chandrasekera manages it dexterously, weaving such disparate threads into a story that was both genre-bending and genre-defining. Fancy words and phrasing aside: this was a really good, really thought-provoking book. There are sections that will hang around in my subconscious for a long, long time. I'm excited to read more of his work.
I tend to recommend albums here, for a bunch of reasons that boil down to believing that long-form media deserves to be appreciated. However, on occasion a single song will leave me agog, hit me hard and have me listening again and again, trying to understand how so much is fit into so little a thing. It's a feeling I'm sure we're all familiar with, and one I love to share.
These are two songs that gave me that feeling, albeit for very different reasons—I hope they might do the same for you.
🕹️ Playing
Citizen Sleeper | This game is relatively simple—it's essentially a choose-your-own-adventure novel with some RPG mechanics thrown in—and yet, after under twenty hours of playtime, it's become a new favorite. Part of that is the game's artwork—especially the beautiful character illustrations and subtle, ambient, sweeping score. Part of it is the setting—a vast, ring-shaped space station at the edge of the galaxy, metallic and monolithic, bathed in neon hues. But most of it is the storytelling, which is deep, thoughtful, and filled with pathos. The story—which is hard to describe without gushing—reminds me of Bladerunner, Martha Wells' Murderbot Diaries, and Becky Chambers' Wayfarers series. If you've been around awhile, you'll know that these are some of my most loved pieces of media ever. And now they're joined by Citizen Sleeper.
In the frame: Thinking fondly of green and growing things.
As I mentioned up top, I haven't been doing great lately. When my mental health slips, my physical health tends to as well, which become a vicious cycle careening down a slippery slope. In an effort to forestall that precipitous decline, I've been doing lots of self-care (e.g., enjoying books and games, cooking hearty, healthy meals, spending time with friends, etc.), but also forcing myself to exercise, even though it's cold and icky and both I and the world feel unpleasant. This app has really helped with that.
Runna does what it says on the tin—it acts as a running coach. But unlike a lot of apps or websites I've tried, it does so holistically—planning not only a variety of running workouts (customized for your particular goals and fitness/experience level!), but also strength, pilates, and yoga workouts targeted at supporting your overall fitness. It's well-informed, well-designed, and intuitive to use, all of which help to remove the friction from exercising. That's exactly what I need, right now.
It does require a subscription, but it's cheaper than a gym membership and feels right-priced for the value provided. I don't know—I'm not really trying to convince anyone to use it, but I've found it really helpful and figured it might help someone else too.
That's all for now. Take care of yourself! And let others take care of you when you need it! Sending love and positivity your way :)
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