Actually not everything needs to be a newsletter maybe.
Am I forcing inspiration in order to produce something? An over-thought exploration into the creative process and when/ whether we should share anything at all. *shrug emoji*
Okay, this is going to get a bit ~meta~ (not in the dystopian monopolized social media platform kind of way but in the just normal meaning of that word kind of way): I’ve been hyper-aware lately of what it’s like to know I have a weekly newsletter and “need” to collect inspiration throughout my week in order to report back on Friday and share something that’s (hopefully) interesting, that is (definitely) heartfelt and (hopefully) comforting, or inspiring, or makes you feel seen, or holds you for a little while.
We artists are fickle, fussy things: a bit of structure (ie: write a weekly newsletter) offers us accountability and something to show up for. It anchors the floaty artist mind and invites us into a practice of detachment (ie: not every newsletter/ poem/ essay/ sculpture/ dance routine/ painting/ sketch etc etc will be absolutely groundbreaking, but the practice of returning to your work again and again hones your craft, and the ongoing practice is worthwhile, if only because, remember how this is something you love to do?). And so when we sign up for a class, or sign up for an art show, or sign up to share our thoughts on the internet, we start mining the world for golden nuggets of truth, which is to say we start mining for beauty and hidden moments and light on the ceiling and graffiti with prophecies etched on the side of a building. This week, for example, I was on the lookout for every lilac bush in the neighborhood and started seeing disco balls everywhere since my friend Hannah said that Dolly Parton and Disco Balls were who/ what she wants to embody in 2023. I watched the way people talk with their hands while they’re on the phone on the subway and eavesdrop on the old man with the sketchbook at the coffee shop chatting with the young architect sitting beside him (they are in a rabbit hole conversation about the revolution of archways over time). I noticed the eight year-old girl with knotted pig-tails and mismatched socks waiting beside me for the streetcar drinking a slurpee and wondered if she chose the purple straw with great care and self-expression like I did when I was eight and choosing a slurpee straw. I stared at the ceiling and waited for the muse to say something to me.
So I did my dutiful collection of inspiration, and took snapshots and notes of all these beautiful, simple, is-this-anything things around me, and yes even took note of the tragic things, for artists are witnesses to life in all of its forms. I figuratively lined them all up, and thought, what’s here that I can report back and “make something” out of? And then the scarier, existential thought: am I “making something” out of not-much of anything for the sake of (gulp) The Machine, for the sake of of Productivity (as in production, as in produce something! etc)? Where is the line between being surprised by the small, otherwise unnoticeable things and finding the beauty/ heartbreak/ solace in them, pointing at simplicity and sort-of monotonous things and insisting on their importance, and just like, putting something out there because Clicks, because Likes, because Subscribers, Algorithms et all, because you said you would? This week, if I’m not feeling inspired to share something, do I just not send out this email? (Here’s the pinnacle of the meta-ness of this whole thing: a newsletter about whether or not I should be sending out this newsletter. Lord help me.)
It is always worthwhile, I think, to make space to connect with your art. You might be surprised by a teeny (or grand) morsel of inspiration, or the groundwork for a great idea that will arrive tomorrow. It is always worthwhile to consider if the place you are creating from is just to feed the machine, to “stay relevant!” to “show up online every day!” My litmus test is something like this: am I adding to the noise with this particular piece of work or am I offering something that gives us a bit of space to listen to ourselves? Am I pointing to a corner of truth with this work? Am I being honest with myself? Am I looking myself, and this life, in the eyes?
There is this: it is always worthwhile to carve out time to insist on the significance and beauty and meaning and truth of scavenging for lilacs, disco balls, conversations between strangers at coffee shops, eight year-olds with slurpees. May I always be tuned in enough to receive these gifts.
xo jess.
Upcoming online events
In Good Company - Saturday, May 20th at 11am EST - TOMORROW!
Our next gathering of In Good Company (a monthly writing workshop) is going to be next Saturday, May 20th at 11am EST! We’ll be talking about stillness vs. stuckness and practicing some exercises to use when you’re in a writing funk!
No need to register - a Zoom link will be sent out to paid Substack subscribers 24 hrs before.
Poetry Club - Tuesday, May 23rd at 7pm EST
Poetry Club is the internet’s chillest-yet-tender club in all the land. Bring a poem you’ve written or a poem you love based on the month’s theme. This month: Words on Stillness.
No need to register for paid Substack subscribers, a Zoom link will automatically be sent to you - if you’re a free subscriber, you can register for Poetry Club here!
The Collective Conversation - Tuesday, May 30th at 7pm EST
This month, as you can see, is all about stillness. What’s your relationship with stillness? How often do you practice it, how insistently do you avoid it, what parts of your life are asking for it? Gather for a guided conversation about where you’re at and what you’re learning.
This event is included for Substack Founding Members. If you’re not a Founding Member, you can register here!
Actually not everything needs to be a newsletter maybe.
Dear lord. I have barely posted in over a month on instagram and not at all on Substack. A Big Life Thing happened and while my desire to write went through the roof for a little bit but my desire to produce has been non existent. I’ve been waking around all week trying to determine if I wanted to post something that just said “I have no desire to produce” but have not quite gotten there yet. I’m trying to untangle how to stay in integrity with myself as an artist and with my audience and my income at the same time. It’s a conundrum I have not quite solved yet , but I so appreciate not being the only one asking these questions
Dear Jess, What do you think about AI? I am training to become an AI researcher (going to school this fall) and don't think it's a problem.