Ishikawa Toyonobu: Writing on a Fan (1765)

"I work for nobody but my legacy and my readers now."

I have been wondering with renewed energy what I have been doing here for the past six and a half years. From the morning I began writing this series of series, Summer Solstice 2017, I have been dedicated to producing stories every blesséd morning. This occupation has almost always been refreshing. I do not very often consider this occupation all that onerous. I have been learning—perhaps even teaching myself—that my muse proves reliable. When I ask, she delivers. I seldom even need to insist. But now, as I look at this next to last week of my twenty-sixth series, I suppose I'm bumping into one of those Is That All There Is? Moments where I feel compelled to question purpose. I began wanting to describe my manner of living, whatever that might mean, and have ended up creating an overwhelming result, something on the order of ten thousand pages. It would take me over two and a half weeks just to read through the twenty-six manuscripts. I have copyedited only a few of them to completion. Am I destined one day to cease producing new stories so that I  might focus my attention on the previously finished ones? I wonder what anyone might glean from reading them. I wonder what I might glean from rereading them.

I suspect my questions amount to completely normal ones, for nobody ever knows the ramifications of anything they're doing from the beginning. We begin in innocence—necessary and beneficial—and work toward experience. We should rightfully wonder along the way what we originally intended, whether that intention holds and has proven satisfying. As I back into the longest night of the year, my path should rightfully seem obscured. I had no real reason to believe that I knew what I was doing. I might feel perfectly free to change my justification along the way. I work for nobody but my legacy and my readers now.

Weekly Writing Summary

I began my writing week introducing my new role in this family with a newly-elected Port Commissioner: ArmCandy. " … perhaps they'll have an ArmCandy auxiliary where the Commissioner spouses get together to drink tea and gossip. I'll start practicing holding out my pinkie finger just so in respectful preparation."

Paul Giambarba: The Withered Arm (c. 1960)

" … practicing holding out my pinkie finger just so …"
—
I continued describing my new role, remembering how I'd for a time seemingly succeeded on the strength of merely SuitingUp. "Dressing for success might be a matter of SuitingUp to eventually make a fool of yourself, but the fiction works for a time, perhaps for just enough time for one to learn better. It was always impossible to know better before knowing worse, and it was equally implausible that one could learn without first experiencing potentially humiliating ignorance."

North German: Infantry Armor (c. 1550-60)

" … may I please remember who I've been and who I became …"
—
Continuing my exploration of my new ArmCandy role, I introduced the absolute importance of simply ShowingUp. "There's a definite art to invisibility. The skill does not come naturally. It requires, perhaps above all, a deep sense of self-sufficiency. The needy need not apply."

Jan Toorop: The Arrival of the Muses of Art at Architecture (1890)

" … tomorrow will bring yet another opportunity for selfless service."
—
The Muse and I enjoyed a little weekday morning entertainment by deciding to run an errand on TheBus, the most popular posting this period. "If we're serious about global warming, we'll have to change our relationship with TheBus. It could be part of the solution, but if even free admission won't attract patrons, we're only fooling ourselves about being serious about solving the problem."

Jack Gould: Untitled (passengers on crowded city bus) (c. 1950)

"I wonder if we'll follow through."
—
As The Muse learns the specifics of her Port Commissioner role, I gain deeper understanding of the practical meaning of PublicService. "Our governance seems altogether too serious to leave to certified professionals. It rightfully belongs in the hands of citizens still innocent enough to believe in and agree to publicly take an oath in front of God and everybody."

Unknown: Washington swearing the oath of office (nineteenth century)

" … the only thing standing between any of us and absolute tyranny."
—

I ended my writing week confessing to my defining obsession in BackToWork. "With one exception, whatever else I'm doing, I know what I should be doing instead. I should be doing my work instead of whatever else I'm doing unless, of course, I'm doing my work.:

Théophile-Alexandre Steinlen:
Laundresses Carrying Back Their Work (1898)

"It might qualify as an obsession."
—
This writing week revealed itself with unusual ease. Each morning, the next story chapter seemed to be waiting on my desk for my arrival, and I merely needed to transcribe whatever I found waiting there. This was a week where I felt comfortable in my writer's skin and didn't feel as though I was beginning all over again almost every morning. In my estimation, I'm now a week away from finishing this GoodNuff Series. I might insist that it's about time for me to finally find my sea legs. I don't always.

The Muse's election to Port Commissioner opened up whole new unanticipated chapters of experience. I had imagined that I might maintain a relatively invisible presence, continuing my hermitage as usual, but that was not to be. My new role as ArmCandy insists that I SuitUp and ShowUp, too. We took some welcome refuge from our new social position by hopping a bus, a welcome respite from the usual routine, and well worth remembering as a back pocket asset easily accessed. I have a growing appreciation for PublicService and its mysterious effectiveness. My work continues to call me back into its clutches and will likely continue doing so; however deeply I find myself immersed in emerging roles. Thank you for following along!

©2023 by David A. Schmaltz - all rights reserved

Tags: #GoodNuff, #PureSchmaltz