this weeks lesssons



Apologies for not posting recently—a busy week for a person typically not busy—unless I’m busy writing which I prefer to be. Anyway, some lessons learned from this week of surprises:

My body is weak. I am not the fit, old thing that I thought myself to be (perhaps a new playlist — perish the thought). I’m working part time at Lord and Taylor and have been on my feet more hours than I can count. I am broken—back, feet, shoulder—but believe I can recover, all of which reaffirms my belief: you rest, you rust.

Humility. And I mean humility as modesty, a lack of vanity or ego, as opposed to low opinion of ones self.  I spoke to my writer’s group today and don’t think I did a very good job. I should have been better prepared, researched more, read more, thought more. However—I don’t feel awful (a bit embarrassed, yes, despite their many and generous thanks), but feel blessed to be part of a group that is willing to lead and follow, that is nurturing and smart.  Learning is a wonderful side effect of humility.

Write letters. And this is not so much a lesson learned, but again a reaffirmation. I write letters to the editor occasionally, well, I’m embellishing—I’ve written 5—but all 5 have been published, the most recent in Vanity Fair. In a world that absolutely, positively, can’t stop talking, it is so much fun to be recognized in this way—a very sweet, little kick in the ass. Write letters to the editors, write to your children, write long emails. It frees you and captures you.

I am an artist. During my years as a graphic designer I often asked myself if I was an artist. And I pretty much always answered yes, but really, I was the job title—a designer. And a good one, I will say, but definitely a designer and not an artist—laying out a pretty page is not terribly evocative. So why do I think I’m an artist now? Cause I wrote an e reader? Because I can’t not write, because I loathe myself and love myself and have grandiose ideas about my work and the importance of my work (this is BIG), and because I suffer, and I don’t mean van gogh suffering, but because I put my soul into every stinkin’ word and it is exhausting. Whew.


And more apologies for I know this is all pretty diary-like but I hope you can glean something from this post. You are all part of my growth and I thank you.



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