Hey everyone,
The overriding feeling for me this last week has been that I don’t want to mourn a death. I want to celebrate a life.
His. And mine.
A few years ago, I indulged in an exercise of trying to sum up the purpose for my life. I didn’t intend to get anything out of this exercise, really. I mean, I’ve been asked this question before and often, the answer depends on how I’m feeling that day and what my current goals are. But this time, that moment several years ago, I had an incredibly clear vision of what, who, and where I wanted to be. And three words sprang to mind: Read. Write. Travel.
That was it, the summation of what I wanted to do with my life. If I had to sum up my purpose, that covered it.
Of course, like everyone else, I went about my days and I expected to forget that vision, forget the strength with which I had connected to those words, the power I had felt as I had embraced them as my purpose. But I didn’t. Every time I thought of those words—still think of those words—I can see a clear vision for my future, the path that I’m supposed to be on, and I still feel the power that those three very simple words bring to my life.
But I know, too, that I’m not always true to my vision, to my desire of achieving all that I know I want. I get distracted, I get overwhelmed, I allow practicality to come in the way of my dreams and desires.
In my twenties, I travelled a lot more than I do now. What I loved most about it, other than seeing new places and experiencing new cultures, was meeting like-minded people on the road (my Facebook friends list has at least 100+ people that I met while traveling). If I could, this week I’d head off to Sri Lanka and spend two weeks there but I have a child in school and so I won’t. BUT, and this is what I’ve realized this week, I don’t have to travel abroad to feel like I’ve experienced a new culture and met like-minded people. I can travel through the country I live in, I can invite people over to my home, I can go discover parts of my own town. I have forgotten to do these things, to explore in the way that I used to explore, opening myself up to the world in a vulnerable way.
And so, lately, that’s exactly what I’ve been doing. Over the weekend, we invited our neighbors over for curry night; earlier this week, I learnt to cook my very first steak; as I write this, I’m dressed and ready to go out to lunch for a Japanese meal.
Anthony Bourdain’s death is a huge loss and one I feel personally, like so many others, but it is his life that I’m interested in celebrating. It is his boldness, his openness, his embrace of everything that was foreign to him until it wasn’t. I want to acknowledge and honor those parts within myself as well, the parts that are bold and confident and not afraid to take a stand. I have never shied away from expressing my views about rape, about abortion, about women’s rights, about political leadership, about the environment, or about anything. I have views about social justice and about our role as writers in the world and I am not afraid to share them.
But I would be lying if I didn’t admit that, in the past anyway, I have allowed them to lead me to self- sabotage.
Especially with my fiction.
My novels will not be for everyone. I’m aware of this. They will get pushback and I will receive hateful messages. I’m aware of this, too. I expect some criticism—every writer does. And I don’t intend to ever back down from my beliefs themselves, which means that when I’m feeling insecure and vulnerable, my beliefs don’t change, but I will sometimes back down from sharing them.
With my first novel, in particular, I self-sabotaged massively. Because to put it into writing and release it into the world would not only mean saying the truths I believe in, but standing by them publically. And yet, what happened once I finished was the opposite. That book may not appeal to everyone, but for the people it appealed to, it was not just a passive like, but an intense love. It’s love and hate with that book, so BECAUSE I stayed true to that vision of that book, I found my ideal agent and my ideal editor. People who love the book and see in it, massive potential.
This week, I’ve been looking inward and realizing that I have been protecting myself by sabotaging my efforts to release my work into the world, even when opportunities stare at me straight in the face.
And I decided I was no longer going to do that.
Like Bourdain, I want to be fearless in my convictions and in standing by them. I no longer put pressure on myself to “write a book” but to “tell a story.” I remembered, once again, that the primary reason for me for writing these novels, is to not only speak important truths, but to have a sense of humor about the world we live in and to enjoy the actual process of doing what I love to do.
The writing of the second novel, for that reason, has been an incredibly different process. The words are flowing, the characters feel real and three-dimensional, and I’m really excited about getting it to my agent who’s waiting with bated breath to read it. I’m even completely at ease with people loving it, not loving it, or being indifferent to it. Because this book for me has been such a fun, positive, and optimistic experience, I can’t imagine not continuing that positivity right through the publishing process.
I am no longer sitting at my computer and obsessing about whether it works or not. I know it works. Each day, I’ve been working two or three hours a day, going out, having fun, catching up with friends, discovering my town, enjoying my life. Every evening, I sit down after my family’s in bed and I tell stories. I make plans for our next trip abroad. I read biographies and creativity books.
Read. Write. Travel.
Just like I always said I would.
Anthony Bourdain is gone. But I’m still here. And I’m choosing to celebrate, not mourn.
Cheers,
Natasha