I finished reading ‘The most of Nora Ephron’ the other day. I have watched her films before, but never read anything by her. Late to the party, I’m well aware. The book is a collection of her best work. Pieces from her journalism, essays, blog posts, screenplays, and books. I found her absolutely brilliant. Funny, honest, whimsical, yet spot on. So personal it feels like chatting with a friend.
As I made my way through it, I noticed how diverse a writer she was. How different the themes were – everything from politics and presidents to food recipes, purses and hair dye – but how they all shared the same voice and persona.
I find that fascinating. How we have the same amount of letters, the same fonts, everything looks the same, and yet, personality spills onto pages. It seeps through in our writing. In our choices of words and phrases, tempo, punctuation, and grammar. What we choose to include and not. Where we see the sentence ending. Where it spins off.
There are a lot of things I could mention from the book. But one thing that stood out to me was the phrase: everything is copy. Interpretations may differ, but I believe it means: everything is a story, everything can be used in your writing. The big and small happenings in life. The annoyances, the joys, the weekend-trips, the neighbours, even the reusable grocery bag you forget at home every god damn time. It can all make for something. And it made me think: what could I write about? What am I currently not writing about that is present in my life?
I’ve been thinking about how to move forward with this newsletter. Trying to figure out my thing, my voice. The only thing I’ve figured out so far is that I can’t think my way to it. I have to see what emerges from actually doing the work. But I’ve found it hard to do the work. I think one of the many reasons may be that I’ve been limiting myself. I’ve put myself in a box I haven’t quite been able to step out of. Believing everything needs a concept, a conclusion, a pretty container, some great wisdom to tie it all together.
I originally wanted this newsletter to be casual and blog-ish. Yet I find myself slipping into perfectionism. Setting the bar higher. Comparing myself to people who have been doing and practising this way longer than I have. It’s all well and good to strive for something, to look up to someone. But not if it stalls you. There’s a fine line between inspiration and deflation. I like myself better when I’m not paying attention to everyone else.
Nora wrote a piece about blogging too. I underlined the whole last paragraph as it reminded me of the blog essence I was missing. I named this post after it.
“But the other point I want to make is that getting heard outside the world of blogs occasionally requires that you have something to say. And one of the most delicious things about the profoundly parasitical world of blogs is that you don’t have to have anything much to say. Or you just have to have a little tiny thing to say. You just might want to say hello. I’m here. And by the way. On the other hand. Nevertheless. Did you see this? Whatever. A blog is sort of like an exhale. What you hope is that whatever you’re saying is true for about as long as you’re saying it. Even if it’s not much.”
I believe in doing quality work. I also think it takes quantity to create quality. So instead of struggling to finish a piece I’ve been working on for a long time, I’m posting this, which I spent significantly less time on. It’s not perfect. It’s not much. It’s – whatever. Hope you enjoy.
And oh, here’s a little mixtape:
If you enjoyed this, I’d love to know! Your support not only helps other people find it, but also truly makes my day. Feel free to to leave a like or a comment, share or subscribe, or come say hi on twitter :) Also, if you get this by email, just hit reply.
I feel this way about my art and my content, and a new IG page I opened up recently to have fun and share things with the world. Like you, I too am struggling to find my voice, my style and constantly stop doing the work because of perfectionism. I feel less alone, and I can relate to you. Thank you for sharing this piece. A reminder, even for me, that sharing imperfect things can have an impact and can help someone. It doesnt have to be perfect to be useful or valuable.
Carina, write what moves you, when it moves you. Share a joke that made you snort water, a horrific tale that occurred when you stepped on a shard of glass, or anything else that made words coalesce in your imagination. The ones who need to find you will gather.