Silent Write-In: Remembering Why I Write
All subscribers are invited to join today at 5:30pm EST on Zoom
Hello dear memoir lovers,
What a shitty week it’s been.
After the election was officially called, I, like so many others, started making my way through the five stages of grief. I’ve spent a lot of time since Wednesday morning straddling the line between disbelief and anger. So much so, that I’m now convinced I’ll skip right over bargaining and settle into depression for the next four years, without ever actually making it to acceptance.
Who knows if that’s true — all the feelings are still raw and heavy, and I’m okay with that right now. But I’ve been listening to other writers in my life saying now is the time to create and, although it’s been tough to pull myself out of this funk, I believe them.
This past Thursday, I made the same sales pitch about writing to my students. So many of them are first generation immigrants, in their first semester of an undergraduate degree, and looking at a world much different than the one I looked at when I was in their shoes nearly 20 years ago.
When I provided space in class for them to discuss what they were feeling about the election results, I asked them to start with a freewrite. I preached to them that writing is the best way to process our feelings, even when it feels hard or useless. I did this even though when it came to my own writing, I was frozen. I had not done what I asked them to do because I was feeling a level of despair that I refused to show them.
“I write entirely to find out what I’m thinking, what I’m looking at, what I see and what it means. What I want and what I fear,” Joan Didion famously wrote in her essay “Why I Write”. I’m not sure what happens, though, when you already know what you’re thinking, what you’re looking at, what you fear. I reread that essay today to look for meaning in the practice again because I want it all to mean something.
I may be losing the thread on what I intended to write when I began this newsletter today. But I think I write all this to say: I’m not sure the dust from this moment will settle anytime soon. There’s too much uncertainty, too much fear — the volume button is broken, but I don’t believe now is the time to fix it. This moment should be loud, especially to help make up for those who are losing their voices.
I also need to believe that we can still write into the fog and it will mean something. And if anything else, I believe leaning into a creative community is the best way to cope with what feels lost.
With that said, I invite everyone to join Hope and myself today for a virtual hour of writing at 5:30pm EST. Because if all those writer friends of mine are correct and this is the time to create, I want to be creating. If you’ve also been feeling disconnected from your creative side, now is a good time to sit down and see what comes out.
The last thing I’ll say about community is if you’re in New York City, please come out this Tuesday, November 12 for the last Must Love Memoir of 2024. I believe listening to real, personal stories is important now more than ever.
♥️ ,
Krystal (and Hope)
What we’ll do during our write-in:
Get into your favorite writing corner.
Grab a cup of coffee or tea and a notebook, laptop, tablet, typewriter or whatever you draft your writing on.
Meet on Zoom for approximately one hour.
Use my favorite method to give focus and structure to your writing.
Stay silent.
Work on whatever you like during the hour of writing—journaling, editing, chipping away at your WIP, drafting an angry email to your ex, writing fiction (who would know?), composing song lyrics, etc.
An optional prompt will be provided if you need something to help get the creative juices flowing.
Meeting ID: 860 5971 8983
Passcode: 544750