49 | The practice of not knowing

Hi everyone,

In my last letter I wrote about the restless feeling of editing, how “I peer through the spaces of possibility in those yet-unwritten places and I light up. The hibernating bear in my brain, now awakened, feels a little destructive. How would it look to turn this upside-down too?”

The spring restlessness has eased. I find comfort in my destruction-free novel draft, satisfaction in the sticky flags marking nearly every page. There’s a different, calmer sort of pleasure now: descending into the research. I get to indulge my curiosity as much as I like. I could stay here forever, but the trick is following the right threads.

Like most creatives, I seem to have an endless collection of inspiration fragments. I know that “magpies collect shiny things” is a myth, but it’s a myth I embody, at least creatively.

Unfortunately for me, a body of work isn’t supported by shiny idea fragments alone. For this draft of my novel-in-progress I’m practicing discerning the difference between a cool idea and a creative thread.

I think what’s working best for me is asking whether the idea fragment in question feels “alive.” Like, does it resist me a little? Does it settle into a quick resolution, or does it keep opening new doors in my brain?

This little space of not knowing leads to the most expansive threads in my work, the ones that I’m able to work through a whole novel rather than just a small portion — or even investigate in other projects.

In this novel I find myself exploring mutable memory and the way nostalgia can harm as easily as it comforts. It’s opened up some fun little pathways in my main character’s relationship to his community and sense of self (well maybe not fun to him), but I’m also curious about folkloric expressions of this idea.

It makes me think of The Kalevala, the collection of lyrical folk poems that’s considered Finland’s national epic. Some poems were changed and a narrative was created to link these discrete stories together, but it also formed the basis of a national identity for people under foreign rule. How can memory and nostalgia be manipulated? Does the moral weight change if that manipulation eventually leads — finally — to independence? I think they’re perfect indirectly for my novel, and directly for a Patreon Chronicle.

I don’t think I’ll answer these questions neatly, but somehow an answer doesn’t feel like the point.

Back in December, I mentioned that I was offering creative advising services for introverted or neurodivergent creatives, whether it’s a 60-minute project troubleshooting session or lightly-guided 3-month accountability.

As part of that, I’ve started a second newsletter called Curiosity Notes — monthly reflections for thoughtful creatives. There’s no pressure, no prescriptive advice. Just a short moment for curiosity that you can use however you’d like. I’m not stopping or changing what I write here at Deadmedia, but if you’d like to check out Curiosity Notes I’d love for you to join me there too.

Thanks for reading Deadmedia today. I’d love to hear what you thought — leave me a comment or hit Reply to send me an email!

Talk soon,
-Sg.

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