Why I write...

Since I released my book, several people have asked me not only for the inspiration behind it but also why I write in general.

I will start with the obvious reason- I love connecting with other people through writing. Readers’ reactions to essays I’ve written and now my book have truly enabled me to make my world smaller. I love hearing that someone related to what I wrote, that they were moved, or that the themes inspired self-reflection. It’s that human connection, that ability to pare down what is true of all of us, that drives me to keep creating.

The second reason is far more morbid, but since it’s true, I will expose it here. When I was very little, I read something about the concept of dying. I don’t remember the exact context, but I immediately ran to my sister’s room and asked her if I would die one day. Her face already told me the answer, but she said, “Yes, but not for a very long time.” Though her words consoled me that day, the yes resonated strongly.

Since that day, fear of dying and the notion of disappearing from existence have haunted me. As a side note, it may have fueled my fleeting obsession with vampires around the time of the True Blood series. But I love garlic way too much and am quite certain that vampires don’t exist. And also, I doubt vampires are quite as sexy as the ones in that show.

But I digress. Part of why I write is to leave something behind. I know I won’t be here forever, but barring a book ban or annihilation of the internet, my essays and books will remain. It’s not the same as being here, standing on the edge of a cliff inhaling the scent of the briny ocean, engaging in lively conversation with another human, stroking the soft ears of my dog, or kissing my child’s cheek before bed. But it’s something. It comforts me to know that I won’t just vanish from this planet, but rather will transform into something else. Words, thoughts, and moments transcribed.

Last night, I finished watching the new documentary about dinosaurs on Netflix. My son has always been fascinated by them, so we huddled on the couch together, trading reactions to the rise and demise of these incredible creatures. They lived for millions and millions of years on this planet, constantly reinventing themselves to survive in the face of an ever-changing climate, evolving predators and prey, and a diversifying landscape. I knew their fate, as we all do, yet I found myself rooting for them to survive. I don’t think I’m spoiling anything in telling you this— they went extinct. But the way it was depicted gave me pause. The most highly evolved of their species hadn’t been around for very long compared to their predecessors when the asteroid slammed into our Earth. The music darkened, turning to minor notes as the mammoth asteroid breached our atmosphere, turning what had become a sort of paradise after so many years into hell. I wiped away tears as the massive sauropods gasped for breath, finally laying their heads on the ground and exhaling for the last time. My heart twisted as the Hadrosauruses died curled around their young in their tiny nests, protecting them until the very end. Even when the fearsome T. rex stumbled through ash and embers, I choked back tears. It just didn’t seem fair. They had survived through so much, and this split second, this statistically unfortunate and unpredictable event in time, meant the end of their reign, the end of their lives, and the destruction of their world.

There is a point to this. What emerged, as the music turned lighter and more hopeful, were the smaller creatures who survived by sheltering in caves while the world burned, then froze, then finally thawed. And more tears sprang to my eyes as birds soared, hunted, courted, and nested. They did survive, just in another form.

So, I come full circle. I won’t be here forever, but if my words and thoughts are, then some part of me will survive.

Some of my favorite authors are long gone. But when I pick up their books, immerse myself in their words, and escape into their imaginations, I feel like they are speaking directly to me. Since I could read, an author’s words were just as vibrant and alive whether or not the actual person was. Similarly, I like to think my kids, then later my grandkids, and so on, will find me again— on the pages of a book.

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On a lighter note, I am still promoting my book, Gap Year, and chipping away at a new one.

I loved hearing my podcast with Zibby Owens on Totally Booked with Zibby. Here is the link in case you missed it.

I had the honor of sharing the spotlight with two other authors who also wrote about a stage of motherhood.

I am recording another podcast (today, in fact). Drinks in the Library with Gigi Howard.

I will be at Arvida bookstore for an author Q&A and signing on March 22 at 2 pm and also at Barnes and Noble in Tustin on May 16th.

Last weekend, I was invited to attend my first book club at my sister’s house where a group of women had a lively discussion about my book and lots of snacks, some inspired by Ecuador!

I am attending another bookclub on March 26th via Zoom and yet another via Zoom on April 19th. I love these and would welcome more of them!

That is all for now. Hope you all have a wonderful weekend!

-Lindsey