Ghostwriter
I considered writing about why I am not writing here so much lately. Then I decided against it, telling myself that nobody cares (people write me coaxing emails to be charitable), I reveal too much here already (morning-after cringes brought on by self-revelation know no match), and there’s no way of putting it into words anyway (how can I explain what I don’t myself completely understand?).
And then along comes Nancy Rommelmann, my mentor in so many ways, who has been going through something similar and captures it all perfectly. In doing so, she puts me in company I do not feel I deserve, but one thing Nancy taught me was not to question those who offer kind words and compliments. The goal is to respond like Nancy’s daughter Tafv, who has been told every day of her life by complete strangers that she is beautiful: Say “Thank you” and move on.
Thank you, Nancy.
My situation is somewhat different from hers, insofar as I don’t have to write outside of work in order to make money. It’s all for me. But when you have done something without interruption for years, to stop suddenly is disturbing. I have replaced writing with things that are all good: walking, travelling, spending time with friends, reading huge amounts of offline material, browsing charity shops and getting to sleep at a decent hour. Sitting in a café, reading the Sunday papers with Antoine and knowing I’ve got shelf after shelf of secondhand books waiting for my perusal, I don’t care that my RSS reader has 243 unread non-work items; I can’t think about the fact that I buggered the back-end of my food blog, which has consequently not been updated for more than two months; the thought of posting here fills me with anxiety, because how do I explain that right now I don’t need this as much as I did?
I think I was right the first time: I don’t have to go down this road. There are better things to do, like read the new Joan Didion that Nancy quotes.
More soon.
Filed under: Life