I received a few death threats this week. I’m not sure if they are a scam or not (I’m assuming they are), but the demand was pretty silly: Do not write any longer. Do not post ever again.
If I did, they said, they’d do horrible, graphic things to me and my family. Plus, one-star reviews on all my books.
I immediately wrote again, obviously. But how incredibly uncool, especially for someone who has already survived some of the things they anonymously threatened.
That’s doesn’t sound like writing advice, right? Does it?
But it is. If someone threatens you to stop writing, write anyway.
That’s writing advice number one this week: Do not let anyone stop you. Not editors, agents, other writers, anonymous threat monsters, your own inner critic.
I can’t say this emphatically enough: Write anyway.
I have been a long-time fan of Glen James Hansard, an Irish singer-songwriter and actor, who died yesterday in a motorcycle accident.
How does this pertain to writing advice? That’s the next question, right?
Singer-songwriters are obviously writers? Thus, the WRITER part of songWRITER.
There are a lot of songwriters just like there are a lot of writers, but what always struck me about Hansard is the way that he always seemed to sing, to perform, with a sort of beautiful and raw urgency.
He had something to say, to tell, to connect to, and every time he did, it seemed like he did with that authenticity of it being potentially his last time to connect, to tell, to say.
People make a great deal of fun of Hamilton, the musical, but Lin-Manuel Miranda has these lines in there that go:
Why do you write like you're running out of time?
Write day and night like you're running out of time?
Every day you fight like you're running out of time
Those lines reflect on a famous biographer of Alexander Hamilton, Jeffrey Rosen explained to a crowd at College of the Atlantic, Thursday. Hamilton, the biographer said, wrote his way out of poverty.
Hamilton knew the power of words and how words can shape a life, a legacy, and a country.
Rosen detailed how Hamilton and Thomas Jefferson would quibble over words, including what “is” meant.
This writing post isn’t about craft, not really. I’ll be back to that next week. This is more about that power, but mostly about the compulsion to create art.
What this is about is urgency—that fevered need to write, to share, to tell, to connect. It’s a bit different for those of us confined only to the page (or screen) and who don’t get to perform like Hansard did so brilliantly.
That fevered urgency, that need to communicate, that’s what matters.
When all else fails you: craft, friends, life. That compulsion to tell and create and be and connect? That’s what elevates your story. That’s what elevates your work. Your writing. Your art. Your self.
When Hansard and musical partner Markéta Irglová won an Academy Award forever ago, his last rushed words of his acceptance speech were simple, a plea and a truth.
“Make art. Make art.”
The producers failed to let Irglová speak somehow. But host and comedian Jon Stewart brought them back and Irglová (who allegedly was originally only going to say thank you) ended up saying the perfect comments after Hansard’s.
“No matter how far out your dreams are, it’s possible,” she said. “Fair play to those who dare to dream.”
Dare to dream.
Make art. Make art.
It’s possible.
Write like you’re running out of time.
A couple of weeks ago, I was talking to a young Wabanaki artist who was almost apologetic about his super amazing paintings.
“I don’t,” he paused as if searching for the word, “fit. I’m not what people expect my art to be.”
“You fit you,” I said. “That’s all you have to do, to be. You fit you.”
Dare to dream.
Make art. Make art.
It’s possible.
Write like you’re running out of time.
Fit you. Don’t worry about anyone else’s expectations. Fit you.
People will tell you there is only one way to write a book, to structure a book, to revise a book? People like me, even, who help edit your books will say, “Blah, blah, blah. You shifted points-of-view. Blah, blah, blah. You saddest point isn’t in the expected point in the book’s structure. Blah, blah, blah. You have distancing language here. THAT IS NOT HOW TO USE A SEMICOLON! Blah, blah, blah.”
Our opinions don’t matter unless you feel we are actually helping you.
What matters is that you make your art and your dream, an art and a dream that fits you.
You.
Do it.
Okay?
We are all running out of time, but we can all use the time that we do have to dream and art and write something beautiful the way Hansard did. And the good that comes from that? It can change bits of the world, one word, one image, one song at a time. Eventually, that all adds up.
Pursuit of Liberty: How Hamilton vs. Jefferson Ignited the Lasting Battle over Power in America,
This blog/newsletter/Substack/whatever will always be free to read now, but it’s also part of how I pay my mortgage.
If a paid subscription is way too big an ask, I’m always thankful for help buying dog treats or just buy Rosen’s book. :)
Or, honestly, just sharing that this Substack exists is super cool.
I usually send these emails twice a week.
*My WRITE BETTER NOW posts also come one to two times a week if you sign up for them, too, which you should.
And COMFORTING is where I just have no filter at all and am totally schmaltzy is here. That’s once a week or so.
Note: I will not be terribly, perfectly, grammatically correct.
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