It's been about two months since I ended Escape Velocity (on 10/27). And here I am. Why?
Two things. First: the influence of a book I read recently called Essayism (Brian Dillon). It's a brief-but-rich book about essay-writing that I continue to reread bits of. This quote stuck out to me:
"The essay is not a provisional instance of something that might otherwise attain the solid status of a truth: terms like true and false, wise and unwise, are especially inapplicable, and yet the essay is subject to laws that are no less strict for appearing to be delicate and ineffable."
The first part of Dillon's statement seemed to describe exactly how I had judged Escape Velocity: provisional, lesser examples of ideas that might someday be more "true" or "wise." The judgment is reflective of a larger insecurity I've always had about myself. I have never felt sophisticated enough, well-read enough, methodical enough, or properly diligent enough to produce "smart" work. I wonder now if I was too suspicious of my own motives and inclinations, and cut off at the knees a project that might have just been getting interesting.
Dillon is sure to remind us in the quote that the essay is still subject to strict "laws," however ineffable. This makes my poor overachiever heart burn (how do I learn these ineffable rules?? how do I do it right?). But he's not trying to make us (me) second-guess ourselves, I don't think; just suggesting that a good essay is created with care and intention, even when it appears like it might float away.
Back to reasons. The second one is simple: I miss Escape Velocity. I love the act of writing, the being immersed, the being inspired. I like looking around for things to write about. I like forming my general morass of thoughts into something legible. I like being surprised by what I write. The last two months have left me full of thoughts, sometimes to the point of distraction. Maybe that's another reason to write? To empty your mind and feel better, or calmer, or something?
I also thought it might be fun to write the process of changing my mind. Reading back the "end of escape velocity" entry, I am struck by how convincing it is. Changing my mind exposes how words work. Despite the first convincing assemblage of words, I can write another assemblage of words, also convincing, arguing the opposite point. I'm interested in finding ways to show how words are just attempts at expression. A writer isn't waiting to name all their truths before they write things down. The writing doesn't stand in place of something wiser—the writing is all there is.
So I will (not without a little trepidation) allow myself to contradict myself. The interesting thing is what's between the contradictions, anyway.
Since I've been gone, a few things I’ve written have become readable:
1. a zine about growing up online
2. a couple of poems and a story, linked at my website
Welcome back, missed this!