001: January 1st, 2024

An experiment on becoming.

In my daily writing from yesterday, I typed this up:

I plan to continue writing next year, and there are no goals outside of that. 

I don’t want to strive as much as I want to ease into something better. 

2023 felt like falling into a cold plunge pool, but I hope 2024 is a hot tub.

2023 was, on occasion, pretty terrible. It was also vibrant; it seemed like the year lived and breathed. It was all so tangible, so real. It was the year that I said things I didn’t think I could ever say. It was excruciating and beautiful. I’d like to say I won’t look back as I move forward into a new year, but you know that I will.

I don’t want to make any goals this year, but today, while under a pile of blankets, sipping hot tea and eating oatmeal after a riot of an evening last night, I couldn’t help but get swept up in the romanticism of an idea. 

What if I wrote each day this year? What if I pressed publish on those words? 

I don’t know what this looks like long term, but I know we’re moving forward with it for now. We’re going to let it unfold in its own way. It may be a week or a month. It could be 100 days. I might go the whole year. 

I know that today is 001 out of an unknown metric. I have no intention of emailing all of these to your inbox. Many will just be published straight to Substack. It’s going to be fast and loose, and it’s probably going to get weird. There’s no structure to it, but maybe there will be. 

One of the reasons I’m interested in writing something complete(ish) each day and pressing publish on it is because I am fascinated with the process of being creative. I’ve always been under the impression that the finished product is only part of the story. The human nature of creativity and practice is endlessly and boundlessly fascinating. I don’t believe in separating the art from the artist. I think the artist is part of the work itself. As the artist commits to practice, the practice shapes the art, and the art shapes the artist, who then shapes the practice, which shapes the art, and so on. 

In other words, as the artist evolves, so does the practice. And as the practice evolves, so does the art. 

It’s been interesting to me to observe that in my creative process, my writing changes the more often I show up to write. What I’m writing about shifts. How I phrase things evolves. The ideas that I am free to explore expand. Once my practice is steady, I have more freedom because the time in creative flow is no longer so precious that I can’t take a risk on a weird idea that might be something. 

This is why it’s important to me to show up to write each day. I want the freedom to chase down the weird ideas that might be something. 

Which brings me to my next, very loose, new year’s share. 

This year, I intend to write a book. That’s fucking terrifying to say out loud, but it’s true. 

I have an idea. I have a structure. I feel strongly that I’m the one to write the thing, and so the thing will be written. 

I don’t know if it will get picked up; I don’t know if it will be any good. I’ve never written a book before, and yet, I’d like to write at least one book (if not MANY) before the end of my time on this swiftly tilting rock. 

So here we are. 

It is the first day of the year, and we’re setting out on a new adventure of 365 days together.

I have no advice for us as we move forward. Last year tried to kill me figuratively (too much character building) and literally (a tornado almost hit my home AND two weeks later, I had a gnarly bout of COVID for Christmas). 

Last night, right after the clock ticked over, I texted a friend something that I meant with my chest:

I don’t know that I necessarily want to call last year bad, but this year will definitely be better. 

I’m very grateful we’ve got some more time to try to make it better. 

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