what's been up

I was at a bar with some friends this weekend and we started discussing writing, which led to writing habits, which led to challenges in writing.

One of the big things we talked about was how easy it is to write when you’re sad. Emotions pour out of you, and there is so much more depth to draw on in your words. When you’re happy, on the other hand, writing feels laborious, like there’s no content to be produced.

I would say 95% of my writing comes from pain, struggle, suffering. I use writing as a way to sort through what is going on in my head, gain greater insight into what I’m feeling and why I’m feeling that way. The other 5% of my “happy” writing is generally just the conclusion of a piece when I have found some cognizance and understanding.

I like to read sad writing. It invokes emotions we don’t normally tap into, and shows growth by the author. But why do I only write sad things. Shouldn’t I be using words to convey the good in life? The things that are joyous and deserve celebration?

So, I have decided to challenge myself. I won’t just be writing on here when I am sad and need to get something out. I want to practice putting words on the page in any mood I’m in, to try and diversify the emotions in my writing to include positivity, the ups, the delights, the pleasures that come with living.

So, a little update on me.

The Wellbutrin has done wonders for my mood. My crying phase is over. I feel the motivation to get out of bed in the morning, and the peace to fall asleep at night. Food has flavor again. My eyes have light behind them. I no longer feel like I am drowning.

I turned in my final piece of the semester for my workshop. It’s a revised essay on my relationship with substances over the course of seven years. When I originally wrote it in the spring, everyone who read it was quite concerned. It was bleak, and honestly, kind of horrifying to reread. I was reckoning with a lot then, and the light at the end of the tunnel was nowhere in sight. This time around, I was able to look back on moments fondly, to provide insight into the choices I had made and the resulting feelings that ensued. It was a practice in writing the good, in writing the happy.

It was also one of the first times in years that I didn’t cry while writing an essay. Usually writing is such a form of catharsis for me that I find myself in tears. This is the reason I only really write from my bed. No crying over my laptop in a coffee shop for me.

I also realized that my MFA thesis is due printed and bound in less than three months. SCARY!!! It’s an anthology of my work over the past two years, so I have most of the material, it just needs to be revised. Still, the task is daunting. A little preview of what will hopefully become my first published book: a collection of essays centering on girlhood in the digital age, hopefully a not so classic spin on the cliche coming of age story.

Yes, it’s nonfiction. Yes, I am the main, and sometimes only, character in these stories. When I tell people the idea, I often get asked what is so interesting about my life that I think it is worthy of being written and read about. I would argue that a lot has happened to me, at least internally. It focuses mainly on mental health, and let me tell you, the range of emotional experiences I have had in my life are too big to count. I also would like to think that I have a unique, intuitive, and perceptive way of writing out these experiences, that is both communicable and provoking.

I don’t post these essays on here for some reason I can’t name. Maybe I think that they’re too long, or too cumbersome for the internet. Maybe it’s because this space is supposed to be about my day to day, not the overarching themes and year long stretches I tend to write essays about.

Right, this has all been one big stream of conscious, word vomit. But isn’t that the challenge? To just write what I’m thinking, whether you or I find it boring or not.