How fascinating, even more interesting because I woke up thinking about how time is literally an hourglass, with the feeling that there is more sand piled up around my feet than falling down around me. Still, we have some sand left above our heads, so what are we going to do with it?
I too had a heavy diagnosis recently. My writing is more direct, deeper and urgent now. However, anxiety still creeps in some days and then I need to swim, look at the sky or talk to a stranger. It is freeing and heavy to hold the temporality and fragility of life but it makes you look closer at what matters and moves you in the moment.
This is exactly what I feel. And ... the "need to swim, look at the sky or talk to a stranger" is all the more precious. I hope you keep going deep with your writing, and keep enjoying those unplanned chats with strangers.
Thanks for sharing this vulnerability, Grant, and I loved the short stories about other authors and their urgency. Perfect read to come back to after the weekend.
Oof. I am always in this dance of racing time and trying to be totally present, like touch the bottom of a moment present. I feel an urgency to both, to everything. To writing and parenting and living and love. It all matters, doesn’t it? I love this framing around urgency as a strength. I’ve never thought about it that way. I’m going to try it on for awhile, see how it feels. Thanks for this. 🧡
Thanks, Jessy! My wife and I used to joke that our parenting was always a "race against time." Now I wonder how much I was really there. It seems like everything was moving constantly, and we could never catch up—especially when also trying to write. I like your question: "It all matters, doesn't it?" It all does matter. No matter the urgency or the types of urgencies we live with.
This is empowering. Reading about famous authors who wrote some of their best work when it was with urgency is a great reminder to light a fire under our own arses, or, said more kindly, as you did, get out of our own way.
The not wanting to disappear until we have written what we need to write; that spoke to me. I wonder if that’s a writer brain thing?
Images of writers fervently scribbling away into the night, pages falling to the floor around a messy desk, filled my mind as I read your words.
Thanks for the nudge, encouragement, reminder, or a bit of all of the above.
Thanks, Joy! Yeah, I think urgency can be our friend—especially that need to say our piece before we pass. The image of Ulyssees S. Grant writing madly until he died has always been with me.
How fascinating, even more interesting because I woke up thinking about how time is literally an hourglass, with the feeling that there is more sand piled up around my feet than falling down around me. Still, we have some sand left above our heads, so what are we going to do with it?
Nice metaphor. Love the sand piled up around your feet—perhaps like a beach to play in, or ground to excavate.
Grant,
I too had a heavy diagnosis recently. My writing is more direct, deeper and urgent now. However, anxiety still creeps in some days and then I need to swim, look at the sky or talk to a stranger. It is freeing and heavy to hold the temporality and fragility of life but it makes you look closer at what matters and moves you in the moment.
This is exactly what I feel. And ... the "need to swim, look at the sky or talk to a stranger" is all the more precious. I hope you keep going deep with your writing, and keep enjoying those unplanned chats with strangers.
I saw a bumper sticker the day after the diagnosis that read, "The meaning of life is living it."
How true, how true, how true …
Thank you for this. I needed to hear all these words put together exactly how you did.
Thanks so much, Christy! I'm glad this resonated for you.
Thanks for sharing this vulnerability, Grant, and I loved the short stories about other authors and their urgency. Perfect read to come back to after the weekend.
Wonderful, Tedd. Thank you for your kind words.
Oof. I am always in this dance of racing time and trying to be totally present, like touch the bottom of a moment present. I feel an urgency to both, to everything. To writing and parenting and living and love. It all matters, doesn’t it? I love this framing around urgency as a strength. I’ve never thought about it that way. I’m going to try it on for awhile, see how it feels. Thanks for this. 🧡
Thanks, Jessy! My wife and I used to joke that our parenting was always a "race against time." Now I wonder how much I was really there. It seems like everything was moving constantly, and we could never catch up—especially when also trying to write. I like your question: "It all matters, doesn't it?" It all does matter. No matter the urgency or the types of urgencies we live with.
This is empowering. Reading about famous authors who wrote some of their best work when it was with urgency is a great reminder to light a fire under our own arses, or, said more kindly, as you did, get out of our own way.
The not wanting to disappear until we have written what we need to write; that spoke to me. I wonder if that’s a writer brain thing?
Images of writers fervently scribbling away into the night, pages falling to the floor around a messy desk, filled my mind as I read your words.
Thanks for the nudge, encouragement, reminder, or a bit of all of the above.
Now I must get back to all those WIPs…
Thanks, Joy! Yeah, I think urgency can be our friend—especially that need to say our piece before we pass. The image of Ulyssees S. Grant writing madly until he died has always been with me.
"I don’t want to disappear. At least not until I write the words I need to write." I feel that so deeply
Sometimes it feels like I'm frantically raising my hand to speak, but the teacher doesn't see me.
One of my favourite things about Sunday mornings, is reading your post.
Thanks, Leonora!
I loved reading this! Very needed
Thanks! I'm glad the piece resonated.