I just messaged you on Instagram about it but I often (especially now, as I, too, am about to push this thing I made into the world in less than two weeks) feel as though we writers have two jobs. For a year or more we introvert away, squirreling away our thoughts and opinions, pushing them to the page, then letting an editor do their best and worst to all those words. And then for another year we have to muster up all our extroverted energy and show up on podcasts and interviews and endless article adaptations.
It can feel like professional whiplash and it can also feel as though we are dis-integrated within ourselves, and therefore lacking integrity. I face this each time a book releases because this marketing hat is so antithetical to who I am as a person and my values. And yet, this is where are and the world we live in. Our work is not to begrudge it, but to somehow come at it with faithfulness, integrating it as much as possible within our value framework. This tension, the difficulty of that work, is what forms us though. Good thoughts here, Elizabeth.
"I am acting as a small cog in a vast content machine, pumping my ideas (and parts of my own, highly personal story) into a reservoir which will in turn be firehosed into people’s faces via glowing rectangles." Ha! Bleak, but largely true. I pretty much gave up on the art world for that reason.
What do I "worship"? It's not a word I hear myself using, day to day. Do I worship my imagination? Maybe. Certainly that is the part of me I am most precious about. Do I worship my daughter? I am daily reminded that her being is a miracle that I never take for granted. I try to be worshipful of the life I see around me. Not easy. Especially when there is so much horror "firehoused" daily. Maybe I'm just a little concerned about the excess of the word. It's too close to other words that portend conditions of living that threaten the values that, through my life, I have come to value ... but not worship.
I can't wait to read the book, Elizabeth. This post here is so bracingly, and refreshingly honest. I can hear, and feel, my own experience in every paragraph, which perhaps makes a decent test for good writing--really storytelling. In fact, reading your well-wrought storytelling here allows me to better understand and make meaning from the ups and downs I've felt putting work out into the world. Blessings to you as you try to walk the good road alongside your book. I'd like to help promote the book in any way I can from this side of the pond--that would be mostly through my audience here on Substack.
You may not be able to connect with each individual you are trying to reach, but in soul, I feel myself opening to you as you influence my formation in this encounter with sacredness through the giving of yourself to the world, and I imagine the challenge of living in service to large audiences beyond your individual means for relating is reciprocally opening to these unknown souls and the ego conflating this expansion with its own inflation. It's daring work and brings a tear to my eye in gratitude of your undertaking. I'm also honouring your decision to take time for self-care and grounding in your hiatus.
The way you describe the meaning of worship is new to me and has really helped me today. Thank you for your words. I’m a cello teacher and I have been teaching two siblings for a couple of years whose mother texted me this morning to say she had found another teacher for her children and that they would stop lessons immediately. I was suddenly dumped and it really hurt. I love her children and it is likely that they will be now subjected to a teacher who was chosen because the students of this teacher purportedly get the highest exam results in competitive youth orchestras. You have helped me understand that the mom doesn’t simply want her children to achieve, but she actually worships the achievements she believes her children can attain. She told me she wants her children to be excellent in music and other subjects. But excellence is not a worthy thing if it makes your child cry during lessons, which is what was happening initially when I began teaching these children.
So when I reflected on “how we spend our time and our attention determines the kind of people we are becoming”, I felt proud of myself for teaching those children in a playful manner, not pressurizing them, helping them to enjoy music and the cello. I did my best to encourage and inspire them. I also had had many conversations with the mother, explaining the importance of creativity and free time for children but to no avail. Now all I can do is pray that the long-term effects on their psyches won’t be too devastating.
So very true, Elizabeth, and I totally relate. I've found it helpful to anchor the promotion in a sense of being the bearer of good news. There are so many people who will WANT to discover your book, for whom it will be a gift and a friend, exactly what they are needing just now. Your putting it out into the world is more about them than you. You're simply going round with a tray of cold drinks on a hot day and offering them to the thirsty. Well done, good and faithful servant!
Amen, Amen, Elizabeth. The inner life of those in the promotional phase of spiritual work can be perilous. Thank you for naming this self-corrosive, cannibalizing moment. What keeps me oriented is regarding myself as a missionary for a cause bigger than my own work.
Thus far this year I have gone on two retreat things with two writers. Each time I have thought, as I surely often thought when I was a child getting in the car wondering when I would get to drive, I wonder when my turn at being the leader of a group will come? Unlike driving, however, the lessons and the fees for taking your turn at the lectern are not clear. The unique experience of writing your way through confusion to something that is shareable, relatable, and as close to what you mean to say as possible seems to be the protocol, and then if you can hold on to that as you go out into the world, well, the world will probably see you as a kook. ;-)
The line of how to accept compliments and criticism is hard to establish, especially as someone who is writing for other people. For me, I try to strip down both compliments and criticism for what they actually say, taking away the value judgments. "I love what you wrote!" and "How dare you write this?" are equally useless. But, "I love the clever undertone of romance here," intended as a compliment, may be a critique if I was trying to depict a friend/sibling relationship, and "This section makes me feel sick," intended as a critique, could be a compliment if I was intending to evoke a visceral reaction.
By looking at it this way, it's not praise or criticism that hits me (though I'd be lying if I said those had no impact at all) but rather, people's comments are just indicators of whether or not I'm succeeding in my goals.
I just messaged you on Instagram about it but I often (especially now, as I, too, am about to push this thing I made into the world in less than two weeks) feel as though we writers have two jobs. For a year or more we introvert away, squirreling away our thoughts and opinions, pushing them to the page, then letting an editor do their best and worst to all those words. And then for another year we have to muster up all our extroverted energy and show up on podcasts and interviews and endless article adaptations.
It can feel like professional whiplash and it can also feel as though we are dis-integrated within ourselves, and therefore lacking integrity. I face this each time a book releases because this marketing hat is so antithetical to who I am as a person and my values. And yet, this is where are and the world we live in. Our work is not to begrudge it, but to somehow come at it with faithfulness, integrating it as much as possible within our value framework. This tension, the difficulty of that work, is what forms us though. Good thoughts here, Elizabeth.
"I am acting as a small cog in a vast content machine, pumping my ideas (and parts of my own, highly personal story) into a reservoir which will in turn be firehosed into people’s faces via glowing rectangles." Ha! Bleak, but largely true. I pretty much gave up on the art world for that reason.
What do I "worship"? It's not a word I hear myself using, day to day. Do I worship my imagination? Maybe. Certainly that is the part of me I am most precious about. Do I worship my daughter? I am daily reminded that her being is a miracle that I never take for granted. I try to be worshipful of the life I see around me. Not easy. Especially when there is so much horror "firehoused" daily. Maybe I'm just a little concerned about the excess of the word. It's too close to other words that portend conditions of living that threaten the values that, through my life, I have come to value ... but not worship.
I can't wait to read the book, Elizabeth. This post here is so bracingly, and refreshingly honest. I can hear, and feel, my own experience in every paragraph, which perhaps makes a decent test for good writing--really storytelling. In fact, reading your well-wrought storytelling here allows me to better understand and make meaning from the ups and downs I've felt putting work out into the world. Blessings to you as you try to walk the good road alongside your book. I'd like to help promote the book in any way I can from this side of the pond--that would be mostly through my audience here on Substack.
You may not be able to connect with each individual you are trying to reach, but in soul, I feel myself opening to you as you influence my formation in this encounter with sacredness through the giving of yourself to the world, and I imagine the challenge of living in service to large audiences beyond your individual means for relating is reciprocally opening to these unknown souls and the ego conflating this expansion with its own inflation. It's daring work and brings a tear to my eye in gratitude of your undertaking. I'm also honouring your decision to take time for self-care and grounding in your hiatus.
The way you describe the meaning of worship is new to me and has really helped me today. Thank you for your words. I’m a cello teacher and I have been teaching two siblings for a couple of years whose mother texted me this morning to say she had found another teacher for her children and that they would stop lessons immediately. I was suddenly dumped and it really hurt. I love her children and it is likely that they will be now subjected to a teacher who was chosen because the students of this teacher purportedly get the highest exam results in competitive youth orchestras. You have helped me understand that the mom doesn’t simply want her children to achieve, but she actually worships the achievements she believes her children can attain. She told me she wants her children to be excellent in music and other subjects. But excellence is not a worthy thing if it makes your child cry during lessons, which is what was happening initially when I began teaching these children.
So when I reflected on “how we spend our time and our attention determines the kind of people we are becoming”, I felt proud of myself for teaching those children in a playful manner, not pressurizing them, helping them to enjoy music and the cello. I did my best to encourage and inspire them. I also had had many conversations with the mother, explaining the importance of creativity and free time for children but to no avail. Now all I can do is pray that the long-term effects on their psyches won’t be too devastating.
this sounds like wisdom
So very true, Elizabeth, and I totally relate. I've found it helpful to anchor the promotion in a sense of being the bearer of good news. There are so many people who will WANT to discover your book, for whom it will be a gift and a friend, exactly what they are needing just now. Your putting it out into the world is more about them than you. You're simply going round with a tray of cold drinks on a hot day and offering them to the thirsty. Well done, good and faithful servant!
Amen, Amen, Elizabeth. The inner life of those in the promotional phase of spiritual work can be perilous. Thank you for naming this self-corrosive, cannibalizing moment. What keeps me oriented is regarding myself as a missionary for a cause bigger than my own work.
Thank you!
Wise words. I can’t wait for this book.
Thus far this year I have gone on two retreat things with two writers. Each time I have thought, as I surely often thought when I was a child getting in the car wondering when I would get to drive, I wonder when my turn at being the leader of a group will come? Unlike driving, however, the lessons and the fees for taking your turn at the lectern are not clear. The unique experience of writing your way through confusion to something that is shareable, relatable, and as close to what you mean to say as possible seems to be the protocol, and then if you can hold on to that as you go out into the world, well, the world will probably see you as a kook. ;-)
The line of how to accept compliments and criticism is hard to establish, especially as someone who is writing for other people. For me, I try to strip down both compliments and criticism for what they actually say, taking away the value judgments. "I love what you wrote!" and "How dare you write this?" are equally useless. But, "I love the clever undertone of romance here," intended as a compliment, may be a critique if I was trying to depict a friend/sibling relationship, and "This section makes me feel sick," intended as a critique, could be a compliment if I was intending to evoke a visceral reaction.
By looking at it this way, it's not praise or criticism that hits me (though I'd be lying if I said those had no impact at all) but rather, people's comments are just indicators of whether or not I'm succeeding in my goals.
Feel free to leave a compliment in the comments, though.
You are such good company on this path. Thanks.
What a lovely thing to say