When I found and re-read this it was—at first—quite disturbing. The I recognized the distance between there and here, then and now, and the work it took to bridge that gulf and I smiled.
I really enjoyed this one. It was neat reading the work of a much younger Mark.
I’m still working to find my own voice, and reading this, I didn’t cringe at your words so much as at the ones I knew you hated—because they sounded like some of my own. I’m in that in-between place, where the instinct is there but the execution still lags behind. Where you know what you want it to sound like, but the words don’t always cooperate. It’s humbling and keeps me coming back.
Looking forward to the rewritten version and seeing how you’d approach editing it now. Maybe a good exercise for all of us. I’ve been sitting on a few things too, trying to find the right words that land with the weight I want. But as Blair said recently, sometimes it’s just about “writing and letting it be.” Not everything will come out as blood—but maybe we can look back and at least turn the water into wine.
Back then I hadn't yet heard one of my writing mentors suggest reading the essay out loud to someone whose opinion I care about. That would have changed things dramatically but/and it was at least ten years in the future. I think sitting on things can be good as well, especially when writing of an important experience, something we want to get as right as we can (in our current condition). About that I would counsel some patience but not too much because life will keep offering ideas and experiences and relationships to you and there won't be enough time to write them all. Keep tapping those keys!
I would not have recognised that as your writing!
When I found and re-read this it was—at first—quite disturbing. The I recognized the distance between there and here, then and now, and the work it took to bridge that gulf and I smiled.
I really enjoyed this one. It was neat reading the work of a much younger Mark.
I’m still working to find my own voice, and reading this, I didn’t cringe at your words so much as at the ones I knew you hated—because they sounded like some of my own. I’m in that in-between place, where the instinct is there but the execution still lags behind. Where you know what you want it to sound like, but the words don’t always cooperate. It’s humbling and keeps me coming back.
Looking forward to the rewritten version and seeing how you’d approach editing it now. Maybe a good exercise for all of us. I’ve been sitting on a few things too, trying to find the right words that land with the weight I want. But as Blair said recently, sometimes it’s just about “writing and letting it be.” Not everything will come out as blood—but maybe we can look back and at least turn the water into wine.
Back then I hadn't yet heard one of my writing mentors suggest reading the essay out loud to someone whose opinion I care about. That would have changed things dramatically but/and it was at least ten years in the future. I think sitting on things can be good as well, especially when writing of an important experience, something we want to get as right as we can (in our current condition). About that I would counsel some patience but not too much because life will keep offering ideas and experiences and relationships to you and there won't be enough time to write them all. Keep tapping those keys!
And read the poem Joe linked to below.
The bones of "Twight as we know him" are there, but in a primordial form. Makes me think of Maggie Smith's poem "Good Bones": https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/89897/good-bones
Damn. Thank you.
"This place could be beautiful,
right? You could make this place beautiful."