Oh look, it’s been another 6 months. And I am as sheepish as I was the last time this happened. I also am as self-conscious as I was half a year ago that I’ve done it again. I said I was going to start this and then everything else (AHEM, more like I) got in the (my own) way.
The goal of 2024 is to stop prefacing my writing with an “I know, I know! I should’ve kept going!” When I did not keep going. Sometimes, you really just don’t know what you don’t know. But what I do know now, is how I default to freezing when uncomfortable or confronted with any possibility of failure or mistakes.
Truly, no amount of ‘knowing’ will ever get you anywhere closer to where you want to go. You just gotta go.
🔁 retiring repetitive reactions
I’m truly in a prison of my own making: an endless loop with a desperation to break the cycle.
There’s a rude awakening that comes with getting to know the depths of your own boredom and disassociative behaviours so keenly. While it perpetuates a state of listlessness, it also exacerbates a despairing sense of frustration and (sometimes) disgust. Lately, however, I’ve discovered anger. I’m angry enough to get the fuck on with it, and I’ve needed that.
I wrote about wrestling with my identity as a writer in this newsletter’s first issue. And in that time since, I’ve embraced that writing is what I’ve always known to be true - of who I’ve wanted to be and what I’ve wanted to do. It has manifested into something that is both the validity and bane of my existence.
And in the past 5 years, I’ve been made acutely aware of my writer’s struggle, where it required acknowledging parts of myself I was afraid to look at.
Now here’s where I have to get really honest with myself:
I know I’m able to start - I have. I’ve captured myself at the beginning plenty of times. Even with this middling newsletter I started during lockdown. It’s usually after a long stretch of time - likely in an exasperated bid for creation (or for life to happen), after giving into my compulsion to stay still, and a desire for everything else to stay static before I can move.
I would’ve taken a few steps, and then discomfort comes - with challenges in the form of fear of rejection (or failure), questions of my self-worth, and to a certain degree, some self-belief that I am undeserving and unable to achieve my goals. (Do they call this imposter syndrome? I’m trying not to get swept away with labels attached to these yucky human feelings.)
Anyway, it is more than I can bear, so I distract myself (I am so good at this, that I often feel like I’ve distracted myself out of participating in my own life). Sometimes, this is with the anxiety that comes with the tug and shove of paid work. I’m lucky that this happens, because we live in this capitalistic world and I’m grateful for opportunities to eat. But inevitably, I find myself putting all of my energy and selfhood into this paid work with not much left for my own projects. And then the eventual burnout strikes - which I’m also sick of!
Even without the privilege (or comfortable excuse) of paid work, I instead waste brain space intellectualising the depths of everything surrounding this creative pursuit. Doing everything but writing; thinking of excuses but writing; cleaning my house but writing. The anxiety causes me to freeze and before I know it, I’m back at the cycle, attempting to begin again.
What did I say? Sisyphean. A punishment of my own volition.
So, here I am, attempting to veer off track. It may not look like much has changed on the outside, but the shifts feel bigger for me especially internally.
I’m embarrassed! But I’m forging ahead anyway - with burning cheeks, shallow breathing and all. It’s extra work working against my impulses to dwell on details or dig for more information, but I want to step forward anyway. It’s fine, as long as I’m driving and life finally feels like I’m the one behind the wheel.
🫖 tepid takes
Article: ‘I want to tell you why entertainment is dead. And what’s coming to take its place.’
(‘The State of Culture, 2024’ by Ted Gioia, The Honest Broker)
The fastest growing sector of the culture economy is distraction. Or call it scrolling or swiping or wasting time or whatever you want. But it’s not art or entertainment, just ceaseless activity.
(…)
This is more than just the hot trend of 2024. It can last forever—because it’s based on body chemistry, not fashion or aesthetics.
(…)
This is a familiar model for addiction.
Only now it is getting applied to culture and the creative world—and billions of people. They are unwitting volunteers in the largest social engineering experiment in human history.
So you need to ditch that simple model of art versus entertainment. And even ‘distraction’ is just a stepping stone toward the real goal nowadays—which is addiction.
Stopping myself short of sharing the entire article itself; this was so cogent and incisive, encapsulating what the current state of culture is doing to us. While looking at what the ecosystem has evolved to be.
There was a point in time where I accepted that this was a problem I could not solve, and with that, a space I did not want to dwell in. (These hand-wringing concerns were one of the many distractions that froze me in place!) But alas, I am part of the ecosystem creating whatever it is I’m putting out there (including this), but feeling despondent every time it resolves for nought.
However! I’m renewed with optimism, and what’s come out of that is a fascination for media and its economics; it’s a whole new beat. I reckon I’ll have more to say about this in the future.
Comic: Regulating my repressed emotions with a walk
(‘Walking the length of our rage’ by Tessa Hulls)
I found Tessa Hulls through a Longform episode (again!) where she detailed her process of writing her graphic memoir, ‘Feeding Ghosts’. She was so compelling I looked up her other work and was so impressed by her storytelling ability - both visually and with words.
“An Eskimo custom offers an angry person relief by walking the emotion out of his or her system in a straight line across the landscape; the point at which the anger is conquered is marked with a stick bearing witness to the strength or length of the rage.”
This short comic resonated with my current (raging) state of being.
Article: Celebrity press runs, what are they good for?
(‘Bring Back the Unfiltered Celebrity Press Run’ by Louis Staples, Harper’s Bazaar)
Okay, yes. Down with celebrity worship but movies, music, books and TV are all part of our culture so they’re still here to market to us. One can argue that we’re just in a constant distribution problem and the press run is a tried and true promotional line that brings in meaningful consumers. This op-ed is an additional side salad to be enjoyed with Ted Gioia’s main meal about the state of culture (at the beginning of this list). Authenticity is now manufactured, nothing is unfiltered anymore - is there anything left that is real?
Fiction: A house party at the end of the world
(‘Good Plates’ by Ling Low, New Delta Review)
This short story is about Yin Yin and her mother as they head out to a block party to wait for the world to end. It was lovely to read: hopeful amidst anticipatory terror - an encapsulation of our current existential states of being. I feel like we’re grappling with this dichotomy daily - sad and despairing while trying to find pockets of our humanity to remain open-hearted and connected to each other.
I love the short story medium. It captures so much detail without the need for too much context. Disclaimer: Ling’s also a friend and once my editor at a very short-lived stint at a now-defunct site for stories about life and the inhabitants of Kuala Lumpur, called Poskod.MY.
Article: LOL what is a ‘grievance-based identity’?
(‘Can Parents Prevent their Sons from Sliding to the Right?’ by Katheryn Jezer-Morton, The Cut)
I felt compelled to share this when I first read it (mostly with my curiosity with modern masculinity), but after steeping it for a bit, it doesn’t feel relatable. Largely because this is written in an American context - what more, a white American one. (blablabla conservative politics blablabla Westernised misogyny blablabla)
But upon reread, there are still some decent takeaways that can be fairly universal: parenting teenagers, ‘grievance-based identity’ (I can only presume that this term has to do with gingerly handling fragile/immature male egos with loud feminism ideas), the universal theme of selfhood exploration and how we can all exist meaningfully in this time and space.
Comic: Some personal news (by way of this comic)
(‘A newlywed couple’s worst nightmare’ by Brooke Barker, Never Not Nervous)
Everything about this comic felt extremely relatable (except for the part where she talks to an older child-free couple in France - this didn’t happen to me).
It’s been nice adjusting to what feels like my own family, one of my own making.
🔍 reviews & rabbit holes
‘Tom Lake’ by Ann Patchett (Also on my Goodreads, or StoryGraph)
⭐⭐⭐⭐
My first Patchett! Oh, to read fiction purely for leisure - it’s been a while. I’d fallen to the pits of the belief that fiction was frivolous and it was only something I was going to indulge in if it had some sort of pay-off. (Like reading romance to understand its bestselling appeal.) Though, to be honest, I picked up this book because I had started a two-person book club with a friend, so I still needed that external motivation. But it’s made me move my focus back to fiction and reminded me of why I had wanted to become a writer in the first place; that feeling has never gone away, I had just convinced myself that it wasn’t something I could work with.
Anyway, I digress.
I’d already been a big fan of Ann Patchett for years now through her short stories but this was my first novel of hers. And I loved it so. I’m always in awe of the way she tells a story - one that is simple and bare, but with all of the expressions and language carrying the weight of untold emotions. The surprise is less in the plot but in the casual unfolding of the story itself because of the very measured reveal. It had always been her style and it’s so effortless - it was so wonderful to revel in it.
The plot of this book is simple, but there was also so much beneath the surface. How does she make us care? Anyway, it's about a mother telling her three daughters a story of who she was before she became their mother. Mostly about her brief stint as an actress, and romantic dalliance with a larger-than-life movie star. And how that led her to meeting thier father (the non-movie star).
It would be pat to reduce this to a ‘love triangle’ because it is not, but there’s a contrast between the types of love you receive from a partner who loves you quietly and earnestly to a partner who loves you with all of the roaring and intense emotions.
That’s all I want to say about the plot because I think the book is so worth experiencing on your own as Patchett takes you on the journey. There’s something so safe and glorious in her masterful unveiling. It’s funny that I’m writing this on Mother’s Day as well because the main character’s role as a mother is also captured so well in this with her relationship with her three daughters. I would say that it's the main theme of this book, plot and mystery and twist aside.
Although Ann Patchett does not have children of her own, I felt like the relationship she has with her readers is one borne out of parental love: ‘Let me show you all the ugly and beautiful parts of life while I stand here solidly reminding you that it is OK to not know, to be confused, and that it’ll hurt but it will all also be solidly OK.’
Isn’t that what being a parent is? I wouldn’t know. But I’d imagine it’s something like this: solid love.
Hi Mabel! I'm not sure if you remember me (i think we crossed paths via work years ago yet I can't remember where or how too). But glad I stumbled upon your Substack and would like to say --- I resonate with this completely.
Circle back and begin again!! *strong arm emoji*