Thank you so much for this letter I missed when it first came out, but which arrived today at the perfect time. I am a writer too and though I am younger than LW, I constantly struggle with this feeling/belief that there are some milestones I should reach by a certain point in my life. But to add to Heather's wonderful letter, I'd just like to mention that there are so many things in life that make us embrace, often unconsciously, the same goal-oriented mindset that comparing ourselves to successful writers does. I often struggle under the weight of the many non-writing-related expectations I have of myself: "I should have more money saved at my age," "I am too old to own a broken IKEA chest of drawers," "I should know better than to continuously put off exercise” and, the big one, "I am supposed to know what I want by now!" When I sit down at my desk to write, all these thoughts are there with me. But then, more often than not, something magical happens: in the process of writing, of trying things out, of letting my brain move freely in all directions, I get swept up in the process. I think this is what Heather is referring to when she writes: "Your job is to learn how to love the work of writing, and the work of aging, and the work of being alive. It’s all work, but it’s sublime." Writing helps me see beyond the hierarchical systems in my mind, where I always perceive myself as being not high enough on the accomplishment scale, not good enough. It helps me see the richness of my life where I am now, in the lower echelon, short of all my expectations. More than that, it erases the very idea of competition. Paradoxically, it makes the prospect of fixing the chest of drawers seem a lot less daunting, and even fun, because it isn’t tied up to my self-worth anymore — it’s just one of the many unexpected and exciting and novel things that one can be given to do in their lifetime. All of this may not apply so much to LW, who seems to have her life in very good order and no broken furniture, but this letter and Heather’s response inspired me to put into words just what a life-saver writing has been and continues to be for me.
My writing group is made up of 60+ women. The majority I would guess are 70+. They are the smartest people I’ve ever met with the most important and poignant things to say. As we age, we have more to say, and these women have taught me that I think it’s crucial that we say it.
Yes. This is one of your most important columns to me. Actually, it's the first I ever read, googling my own problems. I think I might have typed "should I give up on writing" into Google. And from today -- how true, this idea that no one needs you to be better than you are. No one really cares if their friends are "good at stuff." Everyone just wants a little connection in this scary world.
At 65 next week, I'm an "emerging artist" who's been struggling to get out of the chrysalis for the past 35 years. I'm currently making big leaps of progress toward butterflyhood (or mothhood, that'd be OK, too), but it took accepting my old-nobodyness to get there. Such paradox! Such irony! Such is life!
This really resonated with me - I am mid-forties and have just had a few years of embracing age: short hair, no make up, flat shoes. It felt so liberating being an old nobody and realising nobody cared if I looked pretty or had nice hair. They treated me just the same as ever. And now knowing that I don’t need to do any of that to be acceptable to people, I’ve bought a pair of funky boots and I’m starting to think it might be nice to grow my hair again. When I was younger I assumed older people were pretty steady state - it’s exhilarating to realise that self-discovery and self-reinvention is lifelong (and in my case has accelerated in middle age - wheeeeee!).
I love your work so much! I’ve been wanting to write to you for a long time, and now I’m in the middle of a career change and struggling greatly. I’m just afraid my letter won’t come out as beautifully written as many are, English not being my first language.
This post gave me the loving nudge I needed to share an "odd duck" essay I wrote. I was about to press publish yesterday but I got into a weird head space and felt super attached to how people would receive it. In the midst of my mind drama, I almost went back and re-shaped it into a Top-10 blog post, omitting the most vulnerable and juicy parts. The writer’s quest is absurd— put your soul on paper, share it with the world, and then go about your day like nothing happened. But I love the mission to be an odd duck and completely unattached. Sharing the essay here! I'd also love to see other people's writing in these chats! :)
My lovely writer from across the world. Dig deep into that cauldron of middle age despair and write what comes out. Then take this horrifying, vulnerable, unedited passion and keep foisting it onto publishers until one accepts (or they take out a restraining order). Then change your name, and do it again. I love your writing. I would buy it in a heartbeat.
I love all of this. I have wanted to write for years and sat down a few days ago to get started. Keeping going, keeping my crazy ego out of it - that will be the challenge.
So before coming here, I was just Googling "dining room libraries" and feeling bad about my very un-decorated not Instagram-worthy home, which sounds a little like the home decor version of wanting conventional success. But after reading the letter, I am thinking what really excites me in music/art are people who have a sort of electricity, who are fully themselves, no matter how different and risky that might be, like the madly inspired Sierra Ferrell, who was discovered by the guy from GemsOnVHS. He finds and promotes un-appreciated raw and original talent. These people have been busking, train-hopping, poor and struggling and their music is often haunting and real and inspired.
So then I watched this video of a handsome guitar teacher in an Instagram-neat, nice house watching and commenting on Sierra Ferrell. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5ECr915tVxI
Watching him watch Sierra Ferrell, the neat nice respectable house/career seems like the booby prize now. A little sterile. I don't think that's what I really want. I want inspiration, electricity, magic. And to get that, you have to stop freaking worrying about what everybody thinks. Leave the beaten path. It's hard, but I'm thinking it's gonna be worth it.
Thank you so much for this letter I missed when it first came out, but which arrived today at the perfect time. I am a writer too and though I am younger than LW, I constantly struggle with this feeling/belief that there are some milestones I should reach by a certain point in my life. But to add to Heather's wonderful letter, I'd just like to mention that there are so many things in life that make us embrace, often unconsciously, the same goal-oriented mindset that comparing ourselves to successful writers does. I often struggle under the weight of the many non-writing-related expectations I have of myself: "I should have more money saved at my age," "I am too old to own a broken IKEA chest of drawers," "I should know better than to continuously put off exercise” and, the big one, "I am supposed to know what I want by now!" When I sit down at my desk to write, all these thoughts are there with me. But then, more often than not, something magical happens: in the process of writing, of trying things out, of letting my brain move freely in all directions, I get swept up in the process. I think this is what Heather is referring to when she writes: "Your job is to learn how to love the work of writing, and the work of aging, and the work of being alive. It’s all work, but it’s sublime." Writing helps me see beyond the hierarchical systems in my mind, where I always perceive myself as being not high enough on the accomplishment scale, not good enough. It helps me see the richness of my life where I am now, in the lower echelon, short of all my expectations. More than that, it erases the very idea of competition. Paradoxically, it makes the prospect of fixing the chest of drawers seem a lot less daunting, and even fun, because it isn’t tied up to my self-worth anymore — it’s just one of the many unexpected and exciting and novel things that one can be given to do in their lifetime. All of this may not apply so much to LW, who seems to have her life in very good order and no broken furniture, but this letter and Heather’s response inspired me to put into words just what a life-saver writing has been and continues to be for me.
My writing group is made up of 60+ women. The majority I would guess are 70+. They are the smartest people I’ve ever met with the most important and poignant things to say. As we age, we have more to say, and these women have taught me that I think it’s crucial that we say it.
Yes. This is one of your most important columns to me. Actually, it's the first I ever read, googling my own problems. I think I might have typed "should I give up on writing" into Google. And from today -- how true, this idea that no one needs you to be better than you are. No one really cares if their friends are "good at stuff." Everyone just wants a little connection in this scary world.
At 65 next week, I'm an "emerging artist" who's been struggling to get out of the chrysalis for the past 35 years. I'm currently making big leaps of progress toward butterflyhood (or mothhood, that'd be OK, too), but it took accepting my old-nobodyness to get there. Such paradox! Such irony! Such is life!
I am so curious what happened to the original LW in the years since Polly responded. I hope they are happy and fulfilled.
This really resonated with me - I am mid-forties and have just had a few years of embracing age: short hair, no make up, flat shoes. It felt so liberating being an old nobody and realising nobody cared if I looked pretty or had nice hair. They treated me just the same as ever. And now knowing that I don’t need to do any of that to be acceptable to people, I’ve bought a pair of funky boots and I’m starting to think it might be nice to grow my hair again. When I was younger I assumed older people were pretty steady state - it’s exhilarating to realise that self-discovery and self-reinvention is lifelong (and in my case has accelerated in middle age - wheeeeee!).
I love your work so much! I’ve been wanting to write to you for a long time, and now I’m in the middle of a career change and struggling greatly. I’m just afraid my letter won’t come out as beautifully written as many are, English not being my first language.
Right on time.
This post gave me the loving nudge I needed to share an "odd duck" essay I wrote. I was about to press publish yesterday but I got into a weird head space and felt super attached to how people would receive it. In the midst of my mind drama, I almost went back and re-shaped it into a Top-10 blog post, omitting the most vulnerable and juicy parts. The writer’s quest is absurd— put your soul on paper, share it with the world, and then go about your day like nothing happened. But I love the mission to be an odd duck and completely unattached. Sharing the essay here! I'd also love to see other people's writing in these chats! :)
https://medium.com/@emilypfata/ayahuasca-and-the-dance-to-cure-existential-dread-a2b673e468ff
OMG this is the exact conversation I had with my therapist yesterday because my big birthday is two weeks from now...
My lovely writer from across the world. Dig deep into that cauldron of middle age despair and write what comes out. Then take this horrifying, vulnerable, unedited passion and keep foisting it onto publishers until one accepts (or they take out a restraining order). Then change your name, and do it again. I love your writing. I would buy it in a heartbeat.
I love all of this. I have wanted to write for years and sat down a few days ago to get started. Keeping going, keeping my crazy ego out of it - that will be the challenge.
So before coming here, I was just Googling "dining room libraries" and feeling bad about my very un-decorated not Instagram-worthy home, which sounds a little like the home decor version of wanting conventional success. But after reading the letter, I am thinking what really excites me in music/art are people who have a sort of electricity, who are fully themselves, no matter how different and risky that might be, like the madly inspired Sierra Ferrell, who was discovered by the guy from GemsOnVHS. He finds and promotes un-appreciated raw and original talent. These people have been busking, train-hopping, poor and struggling and their music is often haunting and real and inspired.
So then I watched this video of a handsome guitar teacher in an Instagram-neat, nice house watching and commenting on Sierra Ferrell. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5ECr915tVxI
Watching him watch Sierra Ferrell, the neat nice respectable house/career seems like the booby prize now. A little sterile. I don't think that's what I really want. I want inspiration, electricity, magic. And to get that, you have to stop freaking worrying about what everybody thinks. Leave the beaten path. It's hard, but I'm thinking it's gonna be worth it.
And at the very least, it will not be boring!
<3! Initially I read "foisting" as frosting ("They’re fucking weirdos who are foisting their weird creations on the world without apology")