A Writer's Lament
All those brilliant ideas, those beautiful words--such devotion!
I’m sitting on my couch looking at the overflowing cornucopia of books on my coffee table. So covered with books there’s no place for coffee… and more books lie in wait underneath. Each book is a promise: to take me on a journey; to teach me something; to make me think; to inspire me.
As a writer myself, I’m in awe of what it took each of those books to reach my heap. First, each author had to nail down what the book's about, figure out why they want to write it (because without a compelling why, why would they bother? and who would care to read it?), do the research, and figure out a structure to hold the theme together. Then they still have to write the damn thing. After the third total rewrite, it may be ready to publish, but that’s just half the battle. The final insult is getting this precious bundle of pages—over which you sweat blood, shed tears, lost sleep/time/money—in front of the reader’s eyes. Unless you’re Michelle Obama, the marketing is up to you, and most writers DETEST this part of the job.
From seed of an idea till the book is in a buyer’s hands, it can take years, and very few writers ever earn more than MINUS $20 an hour for their time and expenses. Even short posts like this one take time, thought, and rewriting.
This coffee cup I saw on Instagram ($14 from Politety) sums up my feelings. Turn the image of the cup on its side to see the punch line. So clever!
Writing sounds about as fun as a daily root canal
So why do we do it?
I can’t speak for all writers, but the ones I know have some amorphous cloud of an idea they feel compelled to get out of their brain, puzzle out what it’s trying to say, and nail that sucker to the page, so eventually others can actually see it.
For me, gifted and cursed with an ADHD brain, I can’t begin to write until I find a structure. That was relatively easy for my first book, The Cherry Pie Paradox: The Surprising Path to Diet Freedom. It was based on the Thin Within workshops I created in 1975 (the forerunner to programs like “Intuitive Eating,” but IMHO I still believe much more powerful). The structure just followed the logical flow of the process.
My second book, a memoir about a life of improvisation, is in what I’d call its pre-gestational phase. That’s where a jillion wiggly sperm are trying to locate the egg, and we don’t yet know which one will win. The structure is as elusive as the guppy you’re trying to scoop out of the fishbowl with your bare hands. Where even to begin?
All this is to say, writers—even the shittiest ones—deserve boundless praise for dedicating so much time, effort and money to express themselves and share their stories with an audience they don’t even know.
My Day Job…
It’s interesting times for personal color analysis. The last couple of years I was flooded with clients, ranging in age from 16 to 76. “Getting your colors done” may seem like a luxury, but it is actually an investment that only gets more valuable over time. Too many people spend far more in a year on clothes that never get worn, and they don’t even know what’s wrong. Here, I’m trying to nail a client’s exact eye color:
However, calls have plummeted since June. I mean, like in the toilet. People are afraid of losing their jobs, the economy is weird, daily costs are rising, and the boy-president is an unpredictable demented buffoon. I could retire, but I adore this work—connecting with clients on such a deep level, and giving them an invaluable toolkit.
How NOT to do color analysis. This is no joke, people.
Neither is this:
Hit them where it hurts
If we want to make an impression on those companies and billionaires that contribute millions to Trump, join the boycott this coming Black Friday/Cyber Monday weekend. If you must buy, buy local—support your Main Street merchants. Info at We Ain’t Buying It.
Put Yourself in the Way of Beauty
The trees here are still dropping, and the city is clearing them away. They linger, though, leaving their ghosts on the pavement. Kind of like leaf fossils.
And since I’m in a black and white mood, here’s shoutout to my sister Holly, who became a certified Zentangle instructor last month. This pattern is called Paradox.
Hang in there! The tide is beginning to turn.
King Poop is doing everything within his power to deflect from the Epstein horror show, including trying to declare war on Venezuela… for drug trafficking. Which is mighty hypocritical given how many pardons he’s doled out to serious AMERICAN drug traffickers. And if his retaliatory investigations turn up some prominent Democrats, so be it. Pedophilia and sex trafficking is wrong whoever does it.
You know what to do…
Big hugs,
Joy
It's so hard when we can't fit necessities into our budget...we do without the extras..I posted the Boycott invitation on my wall..what I love about you is that you're always empowering yourself and in turn, others.
Re color analysis: I updated my website recently to focus on color analysis, and I'm very happy with it. However, I'm experiencing the same drought, I suspect for the same reasons you cite. But! I believe Demento's feet of clay are crumbling rapidly, and those who feared him in the past are realizing that his support is dwindling. If the pedo stuff doesn't get him, the Bubba thing will.