2024 Writing Year Wrapped

good writer friends and bad advice

I remember, maybe ten years ago, I finished a short story and I sent it to The New Yorker. Nobody had read it yet. There was no cover letter, no hello—just the story as an attachment. Of course, I never heard back. I didn't know things like, you should write a cover letter when you submit to a literary magazine, or, The New Yorker doesn't read non-agented submissions. I didn't know “agent” could be a verb like that—agented.

As I write this, my third year of writing wrapped (you can read 2022's here and 2023 here), I find myself thinking a lot about what it means to be a beginner. Last year, I wrote about a concept I learned called the wilderness—the period that starts when you cautiously set out on this long walk that is "being a writer" and before you reach your first major milestones, whatever those are for you. At the outset of this wilderness period, there's this sort of fantastic hope that you'll go from where you sit (emailing The New Yorker in your college dorm room) to where you'd like to go with nothing in between. You only see the forest, like you'll fly across it without touching anything. When I get to talk to any writer who’s attained a milestone I dream of, they tell me what that quiet part of myself already sort of knows. The walk through the forest is the whole thing. The process. Learning to give and receive effective feedback. Seeing a line change a story completely. Tree to tree. Word to word.

Sometimes I do wonder if successful writers really mean this when they say it. Or, whether they’re performing a sort of humility to remain likable. It seems to me that revising something until it’s ready to be out in the world and finding your readers is a key part of the process. Maybe it’s a part of the process that garners such obvious rewards that they feel more intentional light needs to be shed on the daily effort or the faith that got one to where they are. I think of a line in my favorite Henri Cole poem: “I rewrite to be read, though I feel shame acknowledging it.”

I guess I take the time to say this because, as artists, there’s a chance to betray ourselves at every stage in the process. Focusing too much on creation being a special daily ritual stops us from pushing past resistance and finding out what a project might become if it’s finished, if it’s public. It might get scarier towards the end of a project (which is also, ideally, the beginning of its reception), and that might be just the sign to keep going. I honestly don’t know, but I’ll let you know when I find out.

In Garth Greenwell's writing workshop this fall, we had a show and tell at the beginning of each class. Everyone had a turn to bring in one special thing to share. I brought in my sticker collection. (The only VIP club I’m a member of is Mrs. Grossman’s Sticker club, if you were a Lisa Frank kid, you should explore this.) While passing my stickers around, I talked about how a lot of what you get from an MFA is a profound acceleration of your critical eye. Through the reading and writing you do, you get a chance to articulate what moves you and why. You also find better words to explain what doesn’t work for you. With these words, I can articulate a vision for my work more clearly. It takes time to realize a vision. How much time, you don’t really know. That’s the kind of terrifying thing about starting out. What feels most important at this moment, as I'm able to better articulate the strengths and weaknesses in my work, is to try and stay in good relationship with my creative self. Stickers on my paper at the end of the writing session feels lovely for now.

One of the very best things about this year’s walk through the wilderness has been making friendships with other writers. It's delusional to want to do this for real. The delusion is lighter when shared, more of a plaything to place in the center of the table while these friends and I have drinks. It feels good to believe in other people, to believe in my writer friends. When people write effectively, their writing helps you access another dimension of them. It’s truly delightful.

The more I learn about writing, the more I feel that writing advice is just a series of contradictions. We're trying to name or control what is largely unnamable. One person will say—don't dawdle in the scene, get in and out as fast as possible to keep the reader engaged. (I'm reading All Fours right now, and Miranda July is particularly good at this.) Another person will say—stay in the scene longer than you want to, write through the discomfort, see what the characters can show you. (Also in All Fours, scenes are drawn out so long and include such striking intimacy that you feel like you’re riding some sort of high, gripping the edges of the pages.) Like most craft advice, both can be true depending on the circumstances and how the tool is wielded. The most important thing is to have a vision and feel for its pulse.

At the end of this year, I got my first yes from a literary magazine for a piece that will be published next month. I can’t wait to share it with you all! With the help of the editors, I watched how much the story changed as it approached being finished and got a glimpse of how important and terrifying it is to attempt to finish something.

two of my favorite quotes of the year

READING YEAR WRAPPED

This year, I unsuccessfully broke up with Goodreads. I can’t help it! My lizard brain loves the reading challenge. Now that I've endeavored to write a novel, I realize how much freaking work goes into them. I aimed to read fewer books this year with more exactitude and appreciation for the effort. That being said, next year, I hope to read a book a week, 52 books.

My stand-out ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ books this year:

• A History of Violence Edoard Louis

• Little Rabbit Alyssa Songsiridej

• The Bee Sting Paul Murray

• Parable of the Sower Octavia Butler

• The Wedding Dorothy West

• The Street Ann Petry

• A Tale for the Time Being Ruth Ozeki

• The Girls Emma Cline

• 10:30 on a Summer Night Marguerite Duras

• Giovanni’s Room James Baldwin

Thank you for reading this newsletter this year. I appreciate each one of you! It really means so much when you comment or email me back letting me know what resonates with you.

LASTLY, today is my birthday and I would love to get to 400 subscribers!!! Could you share this newsletter with one friend and ask them to subscribe? It would mean so much!

Love,

Zoe