I’m just reading Richard Holmes Footsteps and he notes this while writing about Mary Wollstonecraft in post revolutionary France. When she was happy she wrote little, so it’s easier to see her life as just tragedy. But he imagines for her some domestic bliss, with her child.
I didn’t actually. It’s post-grim. Recovery. And there are plenty of lovely moments in it. Now Cormac McCarthy he could do with a joke or two in his books / film adaptations.
Looking at it this way is eye-opening. I observed the tendency in myself, how it is more often that I dive into the heavy stuff. Even though I need a good dose of joy, which is ever so often a question of noticing. Thank you for writing about it.
I just ordered Adrienne Maree Brown's book, thanks Amy! And yes, the tyranny of the narrative 'arc' has a lot to answer for. Quiet contentment and small moments of joy are not the stuff of grand narratives, but they are indeed to stuff of life. Thank you for this timely reminder.
I've loved reading about the simple joys of picking berries and planting trees with your boys..these moments are beautiful and their beauty is that they are transient as an activity but the joy of the memory will remain always 🩷
It was a great week, Amy, and you are so right to notice the risks of such a gathering. I suspect many of us came because of your inspirational writing about trauma, which somehow gave us confidence to dive into the difficult.
My good friend Simon Western; https://substack.com/@simonwestern often talks and writes about the tension between what he calls The Wounded Self and The Celebrated Self. After our time together up the hill, I have a new enthusiasm for writing the celebrated me, to give a bit of light and shade to my pieces.
Also, your lovely picture roundly exposes my 'sunroof' in a way that I, of course, am quite unaware of (and happily unconcerned by)!
Am reminded of a week's creative writing course I went on. The first thing the tutor said was, 'I want you to know I am not a therapist.' it was a life writing course. We did go dark, but the memories that have stuck were the sensory details from that week in warm Tuscan sun, bouts of raucous laughter and the discovery that whilst I could write dark, I could also write funny.
I read this and thought I agreed with how it seemed that trauma gets more reaction/feedback than joy and pleasure but then I mulled it for a bit and realised that the most 'engagement' I have had, here on Substack, has been from my diary written when I travelled with my granddaughter on a two week trip to France in the Summer. It seemed to unlock something and people's reactions were so warm and generous, sharing happy memories and stories.
It’s sad isn’t it that we think writing about trauma is more important than writing about joy? I suppose because we want to turn our lives into a narrative that ends in the sunny uplands.. -"Reader I married him" I don’t know who said "happiness writes white" but they have a lot to answer for.
I’m reading this piece on all fours making circles with stiff hips. Just inside the open back door rather than out. Because neighbours’ eyes. And contemplating joining a writing week. And wrestling with an uncertainty in how on earth to craft an actual, whole, entire book of words yet also a huge need to include both humour and joy alongside the harder stuff of a life to tell a full-bodied tale. And also, I just finished reading The Instant last week and really enjoyed taking my time with it and making so many notes. Then my daughter made spooky cookies for her brother who needed an uplift and I saw not the intended cutter shape but a Waschbär and almost tagged you with it in an insta story. Then a judgy part of me scowled from the shadows about being frivolous and she stopped me.
I’m just reading Richard Holmes Footsteps and he notes this while writing about Mary Wollstonecraft in post revolutionary France. When she was happy she wrote little, so it’s easier to see her life as just tragedy. But he imagines for her some domestic bliss, with her child.
Interesting. If you just watched the film of The Outrun, you would assume my life has been much more grim than the reality.
I didn’t actually. It’s post-grim. Recovery. And there are plenty of lovely moments in it. Now Cormac McCarthy he could do with a joke or two in his books / film adaptations.
that section of Footsteps is so good, the part of the book I most remembered (having read years ago)
It sounds like you create the right creative conditions with the group you were tutoring Amy. Trust in these kind of settings is the ultimate thing 😊🙏
Looking at it this way is eye-opening. I observed the tendency in myself, how it is more often that I dive into the heavy stuff. Even though I need a good dose of joy, which is ever so often a question of noticing. Thank you for writing about it.
I just ordered Adrienne Maree Brown's book, thanks Amy! And yes, the tyranny of the narrative 'arc' has a lot to answer for. Quiet contentment and small moments of joy are not the stuff of grand narratives, but they are indeed to stuff of life. Thank you for this timely reminder.
To sit and write in the company of others is a rare treat indeed.
I've loved reading about the simple joys of picking berries and planting trees with your boys..these moments are beautiful and their beauty is that they are transient as an activity but the joy of the memory will remain always 🩷
Ah I’m glad to hear it. I just read a couple of those columns back… I’m glad a captured bits of that year… the 2yo is now 5
It was a great week, Amy, and you are so right to notice the risks of such a gathering. I suspect many of us came because of your inspirational writing about trauma, which somehow gave us confidence to dive into the difficult.
My good friend Simon Western; https://substack.com/@simonwestern often talks and writes about the tension between what he calls The Wounded Self and The Celebrated Self. After our time together up the hill, I have a new enthusiasm for writing the celebrated me, to give a bit of light and shade to my pieces.
Also, your lovely picture roundly exposes my 'sunroof' in a way that I, of course, am quite unaware of (and happily unconcerned by)!
Oh hello! Thanks for the comment.
Sorry about the cheeky photo… just thought it captured something of the time.
No problem at all; it absolutely does capture the mood of the week and the location. I’m still aglow with it.
Am reminded of a week's creative writing course I went on. The first thing the tutor said was, 'I want you to know I am not a therapist.' it was a life writing course. We did go dark, but the memories that have stuck were the sensory details from that week in warm Tuscan sun, bouts of raucous laughter and the discovery that whilst I could write dark, I could also write funny.
I read this and thought I agreed with how it seemed that trauma gets more reaction/feedback than joy and pleasure but then I mulled it for a bit and realised that the most 'engagement' I have had, here on Substack, has been from my diary written when I travelled with my granddaughter on a two week trip to France in the Summer. It seemed to unlock something and people's reactions were so warm and generous, sharing happy memories and stories.
Finding and writing the joy is an art and a skill and one that takes practice. Thank you for this insightful piece. Your courses sound fantastic!
It’s sad isn’t it that we think writing about trauma is more important than writing about joy? I suppose because we want to turn our lives into a narrative that ends in the sunny uplands.. -"Reader I married him" I don’t know who said "happiness writes white" but they have a lot to answer for.
Beautiful beautiful beautiful.
I’m reading this piece on all fours making circles with stiff hips. Just inside the open back door rather than out. Because neighbours’ eyes. And contemplating joining a writing week. And wrestling with an uncertainty in how on earth to craft an actual, whole, entire book of words yet also a huge need to include both humour and joy alongside the harder stuff of a life to tell a full-bodied tale. And also, I just finished reading The Instant last week and really enjoyed taking my time with it and making so many notes. Then my daughter made spooky cookies for her brother who needed an uplift and I saw not the intended cutter shape but a Waschbär and almost tagged you with it in an insta story. Then a judgy part of me scowled from the shadows about being frivolous and she stopped me.