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Elizabeth Aquino's avatar

I don't know how I missed this post. There's so much I want to say, to respond to -- including the quickening I felt in my heart when I saw your first "book." I, too, have always written and had a time when I submitted and published essays and poems, one after the other. I received a three-week writing residency at Hedgebrook on Whidbey Island during the summer of 2015, and it seems like a dream now. So much has gotten in the way, or I've allowed my mind to fill up, leaving me so little space to really write. I feel, at the age of 59, that I might never possibly complete the book, but that that might be ok. It's like a very dull disappointment that some might say is a cop-out or a give-up or just plain laziness, but I feel a certain freedom in just doing the "small" writing I do mainly for myself now. A daily creative practice that includes watercolor and collage and is deeply pleasing. Reading, I like to say is really my only constant. I am never without a book. That being said, your post INSPIRES me to begin again. Aspire again. Write more seriously with intention again.

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Antonia Malchik's avatar

I have heard amazing things about Hedgebrook -- about the food, of course, but also just being there. It sounds like a dream, and also I know somewhat what you mean. I look back at my two residencies in Banff, and what I hang onto is what it meant to be able to utterly determine my own time, every single day. To get to know what routine and rhythm I would have, what I would do with each day, if it were purely mine. It seems so long ago now.

The "small" writing -- it's funny, I talked with my dad this morning and he said he's been reading Chekhov's short stories, which he hadn't enjoyed much when he was younger but appreciates so much more now and is starting to realize what a different thing a short story is from a novel. The "small" writing has something in it, too, those regular paddle strokes that keep us gliding even in waters with no current.

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StephenDanna's avatar

Brilliant. It really resonated with me and tapped my thoughts on my motivation to write. Though I don't have an ironing board or nearby pickle jar in my writing area (chuckle), I do know the feeling of having to write. Not the quality writing that you and others offer, but the consistent writing that must be done whether as grants, education journals (my field), or substack.

ps. I'm glad you found that drive again.

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Antonia Malchik's avatar

Yours is quality writing, though! You're finding ways to tell an important story that has also shaped your life. So much of writing is trying to do just that.

Maybe the pickle bucket is a magic ingredient, I'll have to test that theory out 😂

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StephenDanna's avatar

Thanks! I do enjoy telling the story. Perhaps a bucket of hot peppers might do the trick for me??!! :)

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Antonia Malchik's avatar

Give it a whirl!

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Karen Davis's avatar

This is such lovely writing and I learned so much about you! I think in some ways I’m lucky that my creativity left me from second grade until I was in my mid-40s. This is the first time I’ve said that. Because the truth is I do it now entirely for myself. There’s no pressure on it to achiev. anything I did at a younger age always had pressure to achieve. Thanks for helping me see that!

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Antonia Malchik's avatar

That is such a wonderful insight. It really makes me wonder -- yet again! -- what this creativity thing is and why it haunts some, why it leaves sometimes, why it comes back, why it takes such different forms for different people -- verbal, visual, aural, . . .

I often have to remind myself of Pico Iyer telling me, no, really, you can't write for the readers; you have to write for yourself. And he's right. That first draft is always just for me, because I have to know what it is I want to say. It's the revising that brings in thinking about readers, but the core of it is better if it's not.

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Matt Asaro's avatar

Thank you for this. I've been wondering to myself that last few months if "I have what it takes" to be writer. Doubt seeps in. You've reminded me here that by making a consistent writing practice and committing to it, I am a writer. Whether writing into the void, or writing for a substantial audience of readers, I have ideas to share. Connections to make—for myself if for no one else. So, that's what I'll do. Thank you.

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Antonia Malchik's avatar

Doubt DOES seep in, you are absolutely right. And it can take a long time to realize that that internal compass needle is going to steer you something even if you feel like you keep bumping into failure, or what feels like failure. I'm not sure any of us know what drives us to do this, but your line "Whether writing into the void, or writing for a substantial audience of readers, I have ideas to share." feels like an important part of it.

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Michael Jensen's avatar

I had a similar epiphany while living in Switzerland. I was waiting to hear back from my agent about a manuscript I'd sent her to read. As I waiting, I had the thought, if she doesn't like it, I think I'm done writing fiction.

In fact, she didn't like it and in that moment, I did decide I was finished, at least for then. And it opened space for so many other things to take root -- a love of photography, travel writing. I haven't ruled out ever going back to fiction but so far I'm very happy with my choice.

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Antonia Malchik's avatar

That is a great story. I think it's empowering for others (and ourselves) for more of us to share stories like these of U-turns and ways that different ways of writing (and being!) can open up when we don't expect it. Thank you!

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Josh Pillay's avatar

Beautifully crafted. I find that my literary senses are most heightened when I’m not writing specifically to publish. In fact over the years I’ve made an internal differentiation between “writing for the soul” and “writing professionally” with the latter being more of an exploratory journey into the intersection of human thought and the materiality of the world (at least in my field of political science) . It is the former that nourishes my spirit through deep introspection.

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Antonia Malchik's avatar

What a beautiful difference. I hadn't thought about it that way, but it also describes why your own writing is so compelling!

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Chris Danforth's avatar

This was a lovely thing to read during a period of time where my internal creative forces have been resting.

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Antonia Malchik's avatar

That is a great way to reframe it -- too often we beat ourselves up, but we all need to refill the well and let it recharge when it's empty.

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Sean Sharp's avatar

This was lovely to read. Thank you!

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Antonia Malchik's avatar

Thank you!

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Chris Schuck's avatar

Wow, this is exactly the kind of post I needed to read today! Thank you for this.  And also saw your previous post, which indeed does not begin with a soft opening, though my pulse didn't break 100 the way it did for Mike. Perhaps I am a sociopath. In any case, a great guilt line to use on your teenager the next time they are being especially difficult and obstinate. 

"Losing writing showed me how much it’s part of whatever 'me' is.....'Being a writer' is a full-on embodied thing that exists no matter what kind of feedback or public notice you do or do not get." I've been thinking a lot recently about this relationship between writing and identity. Then last night I was talking with a friend about job roles becoming full-fledged identities, and how this professional identity can become embedded in someone to the point of altering their values or choices. But what about writing, where the professional only gets absorbed into the personal after the fact, incidentally? You describe that difference beautifully.

Have you ever thought that maybe you lost the muse for awhile because you no longer wanted to write fiction, but had developed a passion for memoir and journalism instead? And so this represented more of a transition, than a hiatus? It reminds me of a post by another friend: https://dgozli.com/something-else-someone-else/

One weird thing about writing is that almost everyone who is literate does it in the course of their daily lives, whether incidentally as communication or deliberately as practice. So to distinguish oneself as a "writer" - to really internalize that as part of your identity - requires something extra even beyond the work of writing, in the same way that someone has to work hard to be a great friend and not just a social human, or a humorist rather than someone with a good sense of humor. I imagine that aspiring writers are always teetering on the precipice between some ordinary shmoe just writing stuff down, and a "real" writer who has important things to say, art to share. It's good to be reminded that for most of us, being a real writer means never knowing which we really are, and not caring.

"I’m always curious about people’s relationship with writing and art. With creativity." I really hope you write more (and ask!) about this topic, even if your larger project is ownership and commons. Although, maybe ownership and commons is part of a larger project of being a writer, too?

Why don't book covers look like Four Georgie Stories anymore?

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Antonia Malchik's avatar

Oh, and that post is just perfect. Said it beautifully in so few words. Sometimes what you're struggling with just wants to be something else.

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Chris Schuck's avatar

Ah, thanks for reading the post! I related to it too. Of course, becoming something else takes geological amounts of time, which is probably why it takes me so long to write anything.

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Antonia Malchik's avatar

It takes me ages. I'm slow with just about everything. And then one day you look behind you and wonder, when did that (change/shift/turn/transition) happen? It can seem so clear once you've already walked the path.

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Antonia Malchik's avatar

I'm so glad it spoke to you! (And I think Mike is being too complimentary 🙃 -- you are not a sociopath!)

It's funny, as I was typing this essay up (which I originally hand-wrote, as I usually do), that thought flitted across my mind, but I didn't pay much attention to it. And yet I'd focused on nonfiction -- memoir and travel writing -- in my master's program for several reasons, I think one of them being, in retrospect, that it just felt more natural for me. It's really something to think about, though. Sometimes I think I'm still waiting for fiction to happen to me but maybe it never will and that's okay.

I am very intrigued by all these different iterations of distinguishing oneself AS something -- a friend, a humorist, etc. That is really fascinating. With writing, I can think of practicing and learning to revising and honing your craft and finding your voice and learning from working with really good editors, so what is the equivalent for being a great friend? That's going to give me a lot to think about. Weirdly in a relevant way as I've been thinking a lot recently about who and which kinds of people showed up for one another as the pandemic saturated our lives. It wasn't always the people I expected -- in fact, often the opposite.

If people are curious, I will write more about this and definitely ask! I've been trying to think about how to promote more conversation among readers here, but not sure that subscriber-only topic threads will work. Maybe just asking a question and sharing some reading on the idea could be a start.

Haha, let's hope I don't get asked to draw any more book covers than absolutely necessary!

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Chris Schuck's avatar

I will respond more to this eventually; one of the things that's so great about your particular blog, and probably one of the reasons I've felt comfortable posting, is that the time frame is so forgiving. Many blogs are very "you snooze you lose," maybe not as extreme as Twitter but certainly 24 hour window max for anyone to read or care. In fact, I've been thinking that we really need a term for a category of exclusion that captures this experience - not disability per se so much as having a different pace, not being able to *keep up*. For now let's call it "speedism."

So one very indirect comment on what you said above is that perhaps part of the identity of being a writer is also the willingness (or need) to have a more flexible relationship with time. The ability to sit with the ambiguity about whether one is a "true" writer or whether the work will get published, and write for its own sake, seems closely related to the willingness to not know when you will be done or whether you even have control over the pace.

I was just about to apologize that none of this is really about the commons, either. But you know what - maybe it's not so unrelated, now that I think about it! There's something in the ethos of your posts that seems very "slow science" (Isabelle Stengers). We associate "commons" with land and space, but could it also be about time, and speed?

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Antonia Malchik's avatar

Oh, I'm so glad! That's how I want to live, much less write, so I'm glad some of that feeling seeps through the newsletter. It reminds me, related somewhat to that question, of slight disagreements I've had with college professor friends about grading students partly on classroom participation. I totally get why that's a thing and wanting to encourage people to speak up and add their ideas to class, but no amount of incentive could ever get me to think faster. I just think slow. It's always the responses that come a few days or weeks later that feel like they have any insight. Otherwise I'm just talking for the sake of it. (See also: Why I respond to emails at a glacial pace.) Anyway, yes, I don't ever want anyone to feel like they missed the boat on a conversation. Sometimes I feel like I'm just eternally wandering in the same endless labyrinth, sometimes happily alone, sometimes chatting with people I meet along the way.

That's a fantastic insight about the flexible relationship with time. This is made worse in the literary world by things like "20 best writers under 30" kinds of lists. I graduated from grad school when I was 27 and remember feeling so pressured by that kind of thing, being encouraged to feel a failure for not hitting certain benchmark by a certain age. I suppose that applies to just about anything in life.

It is about the commons! I really think that. The final chapter of my book is "the human story" because I think that wrapped up in the commons and commodification, etc., is a fundamental question about what we can imagine is possible about how we live together in this world, on this planet. It's part of why I love good science fiction so much. It doesn't just imagine a different world; it imagines different ways of being and relating and behaving in a world.

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Patrick's avatar

"Reading this wise and soulful book feels like treating yourself to a good walk. By the end, you're thinking more clearly, you've had some unexpected insights, and you're really glad you took the time to do it." Alan Weisman's blurb for "A Walking Life"

As far as this essay goes - yeah, what he said!!

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Antonia Malchik's avatar

Alan! What a good person. Actually, I should remember to share some of his work. He's been doing a lot of showing up at the pipeline protests in Minnesota, got arrested despite having press credentials, and then set up a legal defense funds for journalists who find themselves in that kind of situation. I feel lucky to know him.

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Mark Dolan's avatar

Writing is hard but satisfying. You capture so well in this post that it is worth it!

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Antonia Malchik's avatar

Thanks -- and yes!

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Mark Dolan's avatar

I found myself thinking about this a bit more. This was great because it was about visualiation, getting in the write state of mind, grit, determination and follow through. Thanks.

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Antonia Malchik's avatar

I hadn't thought about the visualization aspect, but you are right!

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Mark Dolan's avatar

Whatever it is you are doing (except maybe writing on an ironing board) you should stick with because it is working.

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Antonia Malchik's avatar

😂 I honestly wouldn't mind the ironing board; it's just the rickety chair that kind of kills my back. It's one a friend couldn't even sell for $5 at a flea market and there's no way I'd choose to use it but it was the only one I could slide past the water heater!

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Freya Rohn's avatar

I love this. Have been struggling with something I'm working on, and realized yesterday that it used to be fun and I was dreading it. To read of your experience so soon after feeling that notion of --o wait! I can have fun with this, it doesn't have to feel onerous--is validating and essential. The writing is always there, sometimes you just have to remind yourself that it's within you, not outside of you waiting to be tackled. :)

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Antonia Malchik's avatar

That is so good to hear! It's something I need to remind myself of often. Walking helps, honestly. I got to the point somewhere in writing my book where I stopped forcing myself to stay in the chair and go for a walk instead. It never failed to help, either to loosen an idea or tell me it was time to do something else for the day :). I like that imagining of "not outside of you waiting to be tackled." A good way for me to perceive it.

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Bill Hottinger's avatar

Proofread paragraph #5...

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Antonia Malchik's avatar

Missing "me"? Thank you!

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Bill Hottinger's avatar

You are welcome; for some reason, all grammatical, spelling, or usage errors just scream at me; when I like the author, I let them know...

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Antonia Malchik's avatar

It's generous of you, and I appreciate it. You'd think a copy editor would always catch mistakes in their own writing, but I've always found the opposite to be true so it's nice to have some other eyes on it :)

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