006: On The Obligation to Write (Especially During a Pandemic)
Experts debate how often you should publish a newsletter. Once a week? Twice a week? Every day? Can you skip weeks? Should you warn your readers you’re skipping weeks? The debate has been raging since time immemorial. Well… since blogs immemorial, at least.
They say that consistently producing content is the only way to build a list, to build a platform. If you want to be an Officially Published Author, with an agent and a publisher and all the fancy trappings… Well, part of the key to being published is the list you already have. Apparently.
(Even publishers only want to promote the kid that’s already famous, which seems paradoxical to what I thought the mandate of publishing was, but what do mandates matter anymore?)
And I do want to be an Officially Published Author. If I didn’t, sending out all the queries I have would sure be an exercise in pointless self-flagellation.
But… And this is the real key to me: I don’t have it in me to write a newsletter because I’m supposed to. I don’t see the value in adding my own thoughts to the void just to say that I added my thoughts. In fact, I think that’s the opposite of adding value. Who benefits from my bullshit thoughts (ever, but especially right now)? I’m no expert on surviving a pandemic. Being a writer doesn’t make me automatically wiser in any way.
Not only is it personally demoralizing to constantly scream into the void, but I feel like it robs my writing of some sense of… I don’t know, authenticity? I know that ‘authenticity’ has become a flagged word, one we inherently no longer trust, but I do mean it here.
Forcing out some weekly (or twice-monthly or whatever) email about what’s on my mind is intrinsically the opposite of what I intended when I renamed this series ‘Collected Rejections.’ This was always meant to be things editors were unwilling to publish, and writing digestible content just to write digestible content is falling into the same trap those editors were.
In a world of constant notifications never-ending content, isn’t it really fucking nice to get one less email? To read one less article? To shut the hose and close the door and just exist by yourself without someone else telling you how to think or feel or take care of yourself these days? Do I really want to be one more person in your inbox demanding your attention?
No. I really don’t.
So I guess I’m here just to clutter up your inbox and say hello. I’m alive. The ongoing isolation in LA is starting to get to me. I spend most of my time navigating the boundaries between the terror of reality and the ease of fictional worlds, where things are required to make sense, to shake out okay in the end. Being alone this long has lead me down the rabbit holes in my mind, where I’ve discovered points of trauma that never fully healed and happy memories I am (metaphorically) framing and setting on the mantle. It’s messy over here, literally and metaphorically, and my cat is getting really sick of me.
I know we’re all seeking normalcy like a parched wanderer in the desert. The only normalcy you’ll find here is that I promise not to churn out an article because it’s Tuesday and I’m supposed to. When I have something to write that I think matters, I’ll write.
So until the next time that happens—take care of yourselves and each other. However that looks. (Don’t get murdery.)
As always, thank you for reading. If you want to respond just hit reply. Your message will get to me (and only me). If you like this and think your friends might too, feel free to forward it on.
I keep these newsletters free by not worrying too much about typos and flow. But if you want to you can tip me, as a treat.
Surprise—I write things! Most recently I did an interview with Jeanine Niyonzima-Aroian, founder of JNP Coffee, a coffee import company that supports women-owned farms in Burundi. Check it out here.
Stay healthy, friends.
xx,
Valorie
Image by Steve A Johnson.
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