I’ve just arrived and unpacked at MacDowell and I wanted to say hello to everyone before I disappear for a month to write. Here’s what my studio looks like, which has no Internet so I’m typing from the James Baldwin Library.
I figure it’s a good time to talk about my journey toward being able to apply to writing-related opportunities such as residencies and grants on a regular basis, which I wasn’t able to do in the past without stressing out a lot. Let me start with a quote from Haruki Murakami’s Novelist as a Vocation:
“It was a sunny Sunday morning in spring when I got the call... that Hear the Wind Sing had been short-listed for [a] Prize for New Writers... To tell the truth, by that time I had quite forgotten having sent Hear the Wind Sing...”
It was weird to read about Murakami’s account of how his first novel got published because young writer me could never imagine forgetting I’d sent my book to a contest, yet current me is similar to him in the way I’m able to tune out applications as soon as I send them off. This is an important skill because it allows me to pay more attention to my work, which then increases the likelihood that my future applications will be successful.
There’s no doubt that part of the reason I’m able to tune out important applications, whether for a residency, fellowship, or even a book, is that I’ve been positively reinforced for my writing, so I know it’s more likely for my work to get accepted than it used to be. But I think a more important factor is that I’ve spent a good part of the past decade taking concrete steps to separate my sense of self-worth from my work, knowing that the most important reason I write is for my own joy in artistic expression, and my personal satisfaction as a writer isn’t dependent on what other people think about my writing.
This doesn’t mean I don’t care about markers of success, since for one, they enable me to sustain myself as a writer. I can’t get paid to write if no one is willing to publish my book and I don’t have enough readers who want to read it. Grants and residencies support my work; awards help me get teaching positions and speaking engagements. But as much as possible, I try not to let the economic and cultural capital I accrue through outside success affect my own regard for my work and my own satisfaction in simply being someone whose art and vocation are writing.
Over the past few years, I seem to have done this successfully enough that I don’t really think about applications I’ve written or manuscripts I’ve submitted once they’re out in the world anymore, to the point that yes, I’ve occasionally forgotten that I’ve applied to things. It’s a much healthier way to be, and it gives my brain a lot more room to write. I just have to make sure to check my spam filter regularly, where an acceptance to a residency recently ended up.
So I’d encourage you to try applying to one (or more) grants or residencies this month, or submit stories or pitches to some publications. If you find yourself preoccupied about whether your application or submission will be accepted, introspect about the reasons for your preoccupation, and take steps, even tiny ones, toward focusing on writing instead of external validation. This could mean going for a walk, meditating, or journaling. It could mean freewriting or painting so you can get in touch with your love of art without the stakes of having to show your work to other people. Or maybe it just means getting lost in the writing itself.
See you on the other side!
Meredith