A Semi-colon Moment
By Therese Walsh | January 20, 2021 |
I was asked to write something to mark the day—something to encourage a re-set as we turn the proverbial page on a difficult and divisive chapter in American history. But the truth is that I don’t know with certainty what this day will bring. I’m not writing this piece on January 20th, and at this point several outcomes seem possible, ranging from peaceful ideal to horrific.
What can be said of such a day, when so many different outcomes are imaginable?
It struck me that we give our protagonist a moment like this toward the end of a story—following a dark moment, there is resolution or there is an even darker moment.
It struck me that no matter what our protagonist experiences, there is an after, whether it’s happily-ever or not.
It struck me that we are—collectively—the protagonist of this moment in history.
Some believe something will end today. Period. But I think it’s safer to say something will change today; it will shift, marking the start of a new phase or chapter [semi-colon].
The semi-colon is a powerful marker of connection. Two ideas are so intrinsically bound that to exist as sentences beside one another without the marker is to weaken the idea. Whatever comes next, whatever happens today, it will be the cause of an effect we won’t know for a while. But make no mistake that our future—at least our most immediate future—will be tied to our now in a way we won’t be able to shake.
This is a semi-colon moment.
What do we do with the rubble of our time? How do we rebuild? What can be salvaged? What do we take from this moment and pull into our future? What’s on the other side of that semi-colon? What do we want to be on the other side of that semi-colon? To undo it all, to go back to “normal”? How wide is that gap, between reality and some impossible dream?
What can we control? Where is our personal power? How can we navigate the noise to remember our singular selves—our hopes and aspirations—and set ourselves back on the road to home? Are we prepared to find that the ground has shifted while we were away, that our homes are not where we left them, that the things inside are not as we remember them, that some things have broken while others have disappeared altogether?
We will, on the other side of this, be called to stitch together a new sense of safety—a proverbial net we can rely on, that will be there for us if we need to fall. We can’t find the needles, the thread. We’ll have to improvise. We may learn that this new net, though, is stronger than anything that has come before–a strange net made out of desperate materials, flecked with our own blood, perhaps, as we crafted it with some brave-new-world instrument that was imperfect, that we’d never used before because we’d never had a need.
There may be grief for the old world—the world on the left side of the semi-colon—but make no mistake that the new world cannot live in that same space. The world on the new side of that semi-colon is waiting for us, and its message remains hidden for now. It needs our voices, and our actions, and perhaps most of all our acknowledgement that it too can be powerful and promising and a gift of the rubble.
It is for us to write it.
So no matter how you feel today, no matter what happens, be the semi-colon. We will forever remember this time in history as a marker—that can never be in doubt—but it’s also an opportunity. The future is ours to make;
What’s on the other side of your semi-colon, and how much of that do you hope involves your writing? How will that writing relate to this semi-colon moment in time?
Therese Walsh (she/her) co-founded Writer Unboxed in 2006 and is the site’s editorial director. She was the editor of WU’s only book, Author in Progress, and runs the Writer Unboxed UnConference.
Her second novel, The Moon Sisters, received starred reviews and was named one of the best books of the year by Library Journal and Book Riot.
Learn more about Therese on her website, and sign up for her newsletter to be among the first to hear about any new projects.
Thank you for this, dear Therese. You’ve found the perfect way to express where we are at this never-to-be-forgotten inflection point. We don’t know the future but we can be here, right now, and take in this moment. We can listen deeply. We can care for one another. The words will come when they’re ready …
Thank you, Barbara. It will be a transition to a new normal for quite a while, I think. I very much look forward to the journey.
I love this, Therese. It’s perfect for the day. And also it uses my favorite punctuation mark for the metaphor. Home run. :) May our next clause be a brighter one.
It’s my favorite punctuation mark, too! And hear, hear; bring on the brightness.
Thanks for these words at this moment. As I read them it struck me that in the story I have been working on, which has a distinct Side A and Side B, I have been stuck at the end of Side A since late September. The record has been spinning around with the needle at the inner circle, shoosh shoosh shoosh for months. For so many reasons–public and personal–it has been so hard to make that flip and listen to the next song on the album, get to the next moment in the story. It’s definitely a semi-colon situation.
Thinking of the two halves of my story as the two sentences on either side of the semi-colon will be useful, I think. So thank you for sharing that image today.
I bought my planner for this year late and it arrived halfway through January. It’s one of those Clever Fox Pro Premium planners, with lots of goal setting and concrete planning built into the front of it. I’ve spent much of this week filling out those pages with all I want to accomplish, not just this year, but in life. Being undated, it asks you to fill in all the months. So my new year–my next clause/next sentence/Side B–starts in February.
Erin, I love this (and will have to look into that planner!). Here’s to a long and glorious dance with Side B.
Thank you for being here.
Right back at you. Thank you, Marta!
Yes, beautifully expressed, Therese. I think we are all awaiting that world on the other side of the semi-colon. Write on.
Thank you, Rose. Write on, indeed.
Beautifully written, Therese. And heartfelt.
Hugs
Dee
Thank you, Dee. I can imagine how things seemed here to you and to all of our neighbors from the north.
Hey T – Although I’m fond of semi-colons (perhaps too fond, as you are likely well-aware), your perfect-for-the-moment metaphor’s appearance today is an eerie coincidence. In revision, I normally just go through and find ways to eliminate semi-colons. But just yesterday, even as I tore one apart, evaluating each clause, I saw their irrevocable connection–how dependent they were upon one another, and how much more meaning the latter had in relation to the former. There was power in the pairing that could only be diminished by their untethering.
I doubt that you’ll be surprised that your powerful message here reminded me of LoTR. And I hope you’ll take it as a compliment. But I couldn’t help think about the poignant ending, and how the far side of the story’s semi-colon (after the destruction of the ring) affected different characters in different ways. Frodo finds himself relieved and seeking healing from his wounds. But the wounds were deep and enduring. He “finished” the book, but for him the newly created era is undeniably an “ending.”
For Sam, it’s different. He’s undeniably changed. And though I feel like he knows he’ll never be the same, I also feel like he sees it as a rebirth, a fresh new page, with more to be written.
Today, because of your wonderful essay, the writer in me is committed to channeling Samwise Gamgee. Thanks for that. And for the million other ways you’ve brightened my writerly life, and lifted me up. (Also–phew–made it through this comment without a semi-colon…. ; ha, gotcha!)
LotR is a good story to consider, because you see it so well — the cost of a journey to and over the edge, and how there could be no return to a before-the-semicolon normal, even if there was a craving for that. The story always moves across the page; there is no going back. (And didn’t Frodo say something like that, at least once?) It’s to us now to digest as we can, and then move forward. We’re so lucky that we are survivors of it all, and have that opportunity. Here’s to the next page.
Thanks for these words, Therese. On this day, I recall Barack Obama’s inauguration in 2009 and the hope I felt in my heart that we had turned a significant corner as a nation. Eight years later, my heart sank as Donald Trump uttered those infamous words, “American carnage.” It was a stark reminder that those dark forces are always going to be with us. Thank goodness the republic survived four years of assaults on democracy and the rule of law. Barbara mentioned in her comments an inflection point and I feel that is the right phrase for the moment we are experiencing. We have a chance to move forward with a mature and empathetic man at the helm and the first Asian-African American woman as his governing partner. The dark forces will always lurk in the background, but as writers we are in a position to shine a light, tell the truth, and inspire people. Thanks for such a timely and thoughtful post.
Beautiful comment full of wisdom, Chris. Thank you.
“Sometimes you get a glimpse of a semicolon coming, a few lines farther on, and it is like climbing a steep path through woods and seeing a wooden bench just at a bend in the road ahead, a place where you can expect to sit for a moment, catching your breath.” – Lewis Thomas, M.D.
This morning feels like a semicolon moment, a time to rest on a wooden bench and catch our breath. This afternoon, we begin again, to write a better and happier story.
Ah, I love this, Kathy! Thank you for sharing this quote by Lewis Thomas. It does indeed feel like a moment for catching our breath, for letting the reality of all that’s come catch up before we right ourselves, and move on.
Hey, Therese:
Punctuation as provocation to insight. I like it.
Your essay reminded me of the final stanza of Wallace Stevens’s poem, “Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird:”
It was evening all afternoon.
It was snowing
And it was going to snow.
The blackbird sat
In the cedar-limbs.
How like a blackbird a semicolon can seem, eh?
Thanks for this post and for your big fat beautiful heart.
David, I love this! A blackbird is, indeed, like a semi-colon. As for my big fat heart, I blame sourdough bread. Write on, my friend.
Beautifully said, Therese. Your questions about what we can control and what power we have to bring about change are ones I’ll sit with for the next several days. And likely weeks and months.
It’s clear to me that I could do more. But where my efforts are best directed is still unclear. I’ll use this post as a spur to action.
Ah, Ruth, thank you. I like the Lewis Thomas quote that Kathy posted above, which asks us to take a sit while we take it in and prepare for whatever comes next. I look forward to seeing what comes after your rest. Write on, friend.
Beautiful, perfect post for today, Therese. Linked to writing yet so apropos for this day in history. I am writing this on the other side of the inauguration and we have a new President and historic Vice President, but the metaphor of the semicolon remains the same: we don’t know what the future holds. I would like to think our future in the US is bright and pure, washing away the carnage of the last four years, but we have a lot of repairing to do; this is the next stage.
Thank you, Deborah. I agree that we have a lot of work to do–off and on the page!
Yes, Therese, here’s to the next page. I just finished watching the inaugural, and I was inspired by the vision of our country’s next page. And the inspiration delivered so eloquently by a young black woman poet, Amanda Gorman.
Amanda Gorman was incredible. If she represents the voice of our youth, then we’re in good hands.
SEMI-COLON!!!!!!!!!!!
MAMA TEE!!!!
MAMA TEE!!!
MAMA TEE!!
YAAAAAAYYYYY!!!!
The other side of the Semi-Colon holds much in the way writing. I’m on a journey to finish my second draft and, possibly, venture into the world of Voice over Narration. Plus, it will be the beginning of ending an old chapter and paving the way for a new chapter not associated with the great enlightenment of 2020. Soon, I will enter into the world of the 50s with a plan and expectation of living a different sort of life.
SEMI-COLON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
BB! I’m so happy to hear that you’ve made progress with your wip. Mine has spent so much time on the back-burner that I worried it might have been ruined. But nope; my characters are still there, and have been stewing on tweaks that I love. Go figure. Good luck with your new ventures, and we’ll see you on the other side of the big 50!
semicolon
Powerful metaphor, beautifully voiced. Thanks so much, Therese!
Therese, watching the inauguration today, after the despicable crimes against democracy of the past administration, my heart was full. I’m an old cynic, but even crustaceans like me can feel hope.
Dark clouds remain, but there’s a fresh wind to at least sweep them far enough to show the sun.
And anyway, the semicolon is my favorite punctuation mark.
I watched the presser last night, and the return to civility and honesty was one of the brightest moments for me. Long live the sun.
I just knew there would be a band of fellow semicolon lovers to find among the WU peeps, chief among them you, my dear T.
I am hopeful for what is to come. There’s nothing like a disastrous close shave to cause people to treat their lives and actions with more care. The world has learned those lessons along with America, too. (At least we’ve had the opportunity to do so, and it’s on us not to throw the lesson away.) Perhaps our felt vulnerability will create a planet more invested and committed to one another.
Hear, hear, Jan. By the way, I saw a funny post on Twitter yesterday asking what would become of Emotional Support Canadians who’d kept their American friends sane this past year, and thought of you. Thank you for helping to keep this writer off of the proverbial ledge.
“Emotional support Canadians”? I love it! Thank you for the laugh.
Perfect symbol. We have left the first part of the sentence (as literally we were sentenced to four years of trauma, lies and carnage) but now we are on the other side. I am a joyful woman this morning, for so many reasons. I know another joyful woman who was on that balcony today–Michelle Obama. She can take that horrible word CARNAGE and rip it to shreds. We survived because of that which Barack Obama helped us do. Beth
Thank you Therese. The semicolon is a perfect metaphor; two ideas inextricably linked as is our divided nation. After a year that’s been surreal, I’m suddenly aware of how much power we’ve given to big tech, big media, big pharma, and big govt. and I’m feeling grateful for my small and obscure life, so full of small joys and an abundance of blessings. May God guide our leaders in His ways.
Therese, many thanks for this excellent extended metaphor. Every so often we hear rants against the semicolon, and they always amuse me. As you and others point out so well, sometimes only a semicolon will do. I work with physicians who write for research journals, many of whom are clueless about punctuation; my private joke (here revealed) is that a box under the desk holds all their punctuation marks, and when they need one they reach down, fish it out, and insert it without looking. From now on, whenever their writings need semicolons I will smile and remember this tribute.
This is so beautifully attuned to this moment in time, thank you. I am reminded of the “resting juncture,” a concept I learned in yoga class: the resting juncture is that slight, natural pause between the end of an exhalation and the next inhalation. Sometimes it’s so short as to be undetectable, other times it’s just this little rest before moving forward. The idea is to allow it to happen, as it needs to, without forcing or tension.
And sometimes, that pause leads to a deeper, refreshing breath. I’m hopeful that we can all take that deep breath, find our focus and energy, and keep going. Me, I’m looking forward to picking up my story notes again tomorrow.
Beautiful comparison, Alisha, thank you! Breathing seems easier on this side of the semicolon, and I hope the writing comes more easily, too. Best of luck to you as you reconnect with your wip.
I am writing at what, over on the East Coast, is toward the end of the day. So far, so good. The transition has been peaceful.
What we can feel, for a day, is a feeling of relief. Huge. Relief. Tears, like mine during the inauguration ceremony, are appropriate.
So, the craft lesson: Relief is built on great tribulation, deep-dark moments, and a feeling of hopelessness. When darkness and lies have seemed unstoppable, the arrival finally of the light is all the more wonderful.
And so today, we have the light. Tomorrow, we start a new story. It will be a good story because good people are writing it; like the storytellers here at WU.
Thanks, Therese. This place kept us going through the dark days, and that is no small thing.
Thank you, Don; this place kept me going as well. Here’s to a good story followed by another.
😝Yours is so much more inspirational than its academic avatar:
Abstract
The Dillion Hypothesis of Titular Colonicity has been proposed as the primary correlate of scholarly character in journal publication. The Hypothesis was developed and tested in the fields of education, psychology, and literary criticism; its geographical strengths have been tested in a study of the same fields from New Zealand. In this paper, The Hypothesis is tested across disciplinary lines. Data from 21,000 titles in six journals of ecology and aquatic sciences are examined. Titular colonicity has increased dramatically over the last 15 years. Striking differences are found between theoretical and applied sub‐fields (with theoretical papers being an order of magnitude more scholarly) and between the papers presented at international scientific congresses and those published in peer‐reviewed journals (the latter are more scholarly). No significant differences in scholarly character between aquatic and terrestrial ecology were detectable. A comparison of findings from available studies reveals that more theoretic research in biology is significantly more scholarly than that in psychology. In general, the results of this study support the Dillon Hypothesis of Titular Colonicity.
This is perfect, simply perfect, Therese. What a fitting metaphor! Today is a bridge, not the end of the journey; we are far from the end of our journey. But perhaps we can move forward again, together.
Happy Inauguration Day!
Brilliant metaphor; whether you love semicolons or not!
Well done.