Enough
By Liz Michalski | January 24, 2025 |
This is not my best work.
I’ve started and stopped this essay a half dozen times. I’ve despaired. About so many things. The world. The country. Humanity. My loved ones. And down at the bottom of the list, my ability to ever write a coherent and moving sentence again. Besides, even if I could, what would it matter? It won’t change what’s done, won’t set the world right, probably won’t change a single mind or heart.
We were hit with a snowstorm where I live this week, and when it was over I went out in freezing temperatures and stomped around on snowshoes for a few hours, battling the cold and the ice and the way my left snowshoe always comes undone at the most inconvenient time, and when I’d finished, and I had no feeling left in my fingers and toes, I thought to myself Why did I do that? It was pointless and hard and didn’t change anything. What a waste of time. But then I thought some more. About the way my cheeks were glowing, how it had felt to not see another person for all that time, only trees and a swathe of unbroken white, the way my muscles were pleasantly tired and I thought I might be able to sleep later. And I realized
I did it because it brought me joy.
And sometimes, that is enough. It’s not everything, but it’s enough.
Later that night I dug out an old notebook and wrote down everything I remembered about the hike. The red berries against the white snow. The brightly painted birdhouse with its door propped open to keep the mice from sheltering there. The coyote tracks, large and in a straight line, heading to the part of the stream that wasn’t frozen. I captured it all, word by careful word.
Those words, like the hike, didn’t change anything either. But they brought me joy as well, and rereading them here, I can feel my heartbeat slow a bit. I can smell the crisp, fresh air and see the dark trees swaying in the wind at the edge of the field. Maybe you can too.
Maybe it brings you joy.
Maybe it doesn’t always have to be our best work. Maybe, as writers, it just has to be enough.
Now it’s your turn. How is your writing going these days? Where are you finding joy?
Liz Michalski’s (she/her) second novel, Darling Girl, was published in 2022 by Dutton. Her first novel, Evenfall, was published by Berkley Books (Penguin). Liz has been a reporter, an editor, and a freelance writer. In her previous life, she wrangled with ill-tempered horses and oversized show dogs. These days she’s downsized to one husband, two children and a medium-sized mutt.
Thank you, Liz — You’ve succinctly captured both the moment and the way forward. Wishing you joy, my friend.
Wishing you the same. This would be so much easier to survive if we were all together!
THIS LINE SAYS IT ALL,FOR ME:
I did it because it brought me joy.
Thank you, Maria! May you find joy along the journey with me.
Beta reader comments are arriving on my WIP. As you might expect, the manuscript that delighted me in every way doesn’t necessarily delight every reader in every way. I knew that. Still, it’s deflating. There’s more work to do.
But that’s where the joy lies. I loved writing this WIP. I will love tearing parts of it apart and discovering new approaches. It’s going to be fun, and I am deeply grateful to those pals who have volunteered to do bloody triage in the field hospital. That is a joy too. Not the triage, I mean, but the pals. True friends. Great readers.
I get what you’re saying about a walk in the woods, that’s maybe enough on certain days, but working on fiction is, for me, always a joy and even more so when generous friends unstintingly pitch in and hold up the morning mirror to my work. That warms me in a way that a walk outside doesn’t.
So, there’s always joy. If it’s not there in the writing on this given day, it will be tomorrow.
That is a lovely attitude toward revising, Benjamin. (Maybe not the imagery, but the sentiment!) You are lucky to have such friends – they sound like a true joy. Thanks for reading!
Thanks for this lovely reminder and reassurance. It prompted me to reread Toni Morrison’s oft-quoted article on the artist’s duty to speak in times of dread. It’s in The Nation, April 6, 2015 edition, and the full text remains provocative and timely. As a lowly scribbler who loves Writer Unboxed, I thank everyone here for your advice and support.
Grace, I have not read it, but will search it out this weekend. From one lowly scribbler to another, thank you.
Hi, Liz. Thanks for this post. Like you, I have been having trouble writing lately. I am obsessed with watching the news. Changes that will impact the quality of many lives are happening with breathtaking speed. I know it’s not healthy to constantly watch the news or doom-scroll online and I should unplug . Sometimes, we need to stop, take a breath, and enjoy the abundant beauty of nature. It can be healing, as you point out. At times like these, we also need to turn to our friends for support and to communities like Writer Unboxed. Your post was just what I needed today.
I struggle with the same things, Christopher. We are in it together, if that is any comfort. Wishing peace to you, my friend.
I disagree that your joy didn’t change anything. I believe it poked at the dark, maybe even poked a hole right through it. And it caused you to feel and remember the beauty of what you saw. For me, the natural word is real. No artifice, no spin, no bullshit. Outrage at the state of things in the man-made world is appropriate right now, but I won’t give in to despair. In fact, I’m finding great joy in defiance. In writing my truth and speaking out. The world needs your beautiful magical voice!!
Thank you Susan! The natural world is such a touchstone for me – I’m glad you feel the same way. Write on!
My writing is going pretty well, thanks! You summed up the large, communal moment in the second paragraph, but in the written memories of your field endeavors you offered the hope that will keep us going. It’s hard to shut out the communal space. It’s necessary to save our souls by resting in the natural world and the story world for a while.
Glad the writing is going well, Chris. Resting is absolutely a priority right now. Thanks!
Hello Liz. As you say, joy can’t always be enough, but it should be in there somewhere. I can promise you, though, the details you offer today prove you haven’t lost and won’t lose your ability to write moving sentences. Words that live. Here, you convey to me that shocking, all-at-once sense of being fully aware in nature. Silent, alert. Don’t worry about a thing. The words are yours, waiting for you. When you breathe them alive, they will absolutely matter to everyone worthy of them.
Thank you so much for your kind words, Barry. And the hope you yourself put into the world, whether through your art postings or just through conversation. You’ve made my day!
I’ve gotten off X(Twitter) and Facebook, canceled the Washington Post and joined the fresh air on Bluesky. Check out the starter packs there. They introduce you to people and publishers you may want to know while eliminating the creeps found elsewhere. I got into Bluesky several weeks ago after members of the Authors Guild suggested it. It’s been great. @raypace.bsky.social
I’ve done the same, Ray, although I’ve kept FB for now bc of a very active group that I love. Just dipping my toes into Bluesky – thanks for the suggestion. I will look for you there!
A wise and thoughtful post, Liz.
I’m writing because it’s my refuge, my way of taking control. But the other night, I stood on my balcony and peered at Saturn through binoculars and could just see the rings. The planet was so bright, it cast a path on the ocean, and I felt my sense of wonder restored for a little while. There is no ceiling on the world. How wild is that?
I love this, Barbara. And I love seeing pictures of the beautiful place you live – thank you for sharing!
I did it because it brought me joy. –THAT FINE SENTENCE SAYS IT ALL. THANK YOU.
Dear Liz, you wrote that your Left snowshoe always comes off. That’s okay Liz, because with your heart, your soul and your creativity I know you will put it back on and keep going. That’s what we all must do. Everyone here, though we feel anger and sorrow…writing is a way to shout out…I am still me and You with your nasty rules and new laws will never change me. Never!!!
Thank you so much for reading! I love your message of perseverance through frustration. And I am grateful for this community of open-hearted, caring writers on this journey.
I’m almost 88, and I do a lot of wondering. It seems that the people who turn the man-made world into such a mess are those who never notice the beautiful, meaningful details of the natural world—bright red berries against snow or a tall blue heron’s patience at the water’s edge. Maybe I’m just an old man with fingers poised above the keys of my computer, mind searching for words. But that means I’m soul-connected with the heron, and I wouldn’t want it any other way because we will each eventually find what we seek.
Yes, I agree! Forget Mars – there is so much beauty right here, and the challenge is to keep it. I wouldn’t want it any other way either.
This is beautiful, thank you. I have been feeling the stirrings of ideas and struggling to tear my eyes away from the news to pay attention to them, even as I know they are a better use of my energy. And I realize that there’s wisdom in bundling up and getting outside again–something I do more regularly when it’s warmer. I appreciate the reminder!
I am so grateful for the WU community, always, but particularly now. Raising a warm beverage to you all!
Raising mine as well, Alisha. It is hard to head out in this cold but worth it, always. And good luck with those ideas!
Liz, we got snow in Charleston, SC, too. Such a rarity. The last time was Jan 2018. I love it. If I weren’t fighting a cold and cough, I’d be making a big snowman, but the thought of bending over to roll a ball of snow isn’t appealing. Still, I got out for a walk…and upon my return home found sketches for my picture book! I love the work of artists, what they bring to my stories. Joy is something internal. Nothing can take it away. Not sickness, not external events. I’ve had the best Christmas with my daughter getting married and the future looks bright. Happy New Year!
Dear Liz, I love the vulnerable sense of your struggle that you shared. In these days being vulnerable can be a scary thing and yet with those who are part of our tribe, it reaches out and draws me in. Thank you for your words. Like many of us, I am trying to protect myself from the news because it can take me down so easily at the same time, I struggle to know how to be a voice against the evil I feel is circling around our country. And in the midst of all of that, I try to write. So it’s nice to know I’m not the only one struggling. But then to go out in nature can be such a gift, although I’m not a cold-weather person. I’ve already been getting catalogs with flowers and I can’t wait until the gentle winds of spring come. And dreaming makes me smile, thinking about when I will have my fingers in the dirt and listen to the birds sing.
I love getting flower catalogs too, Becky – they bring me anticipatory joy, and we all need that, don’t we? Wishing you many flowers in the coming year.
Thanks for this.
Just as you started and stopped a number of times with your essay, I’ve now started and stopped a number of times with my reply, looking for the sweet spot between oversharing and being cryptically vague. A couple of years ago I had a major opportunity presented to me, but it didn’t work out. Then I managed to complete a new manuscript, but I didn’t like it and haven’t taken it back out of the desk drawer yet. I find myself having to reevaluate – at age 60 – what I want to do with my writing and where I want it to go.
I’m also working on a new project, one that’s really interesting but also one that’s different from anything I’ve done before. It’s like I’m learning how to put a book together all over again. Some days, that’s great – but other days, not so much, and I find myself wondering what the heck I’m doing.
Maybe just the process of learning a new way to write is enough, or enough for now, anyway. Anything else can come when I’m ready for it.
Hello Robert. We don’t know each other, but I’m older than you, so I will impose seniority: never look back. You have something that needs saying, and so I hope you’ll say it. It’s the only way to go, agreed?
I wonder what the heck I am doing all the time, Robert! But I guess if we don’t try new things and push ourselves, we don’t learn, and then we don’t grow. Good luck with the new project, and I hope you find your way with it.
Joy is a big deal with me. At some time in my career (as writing teacher/developmental editor/author) I looked around and asked myself what makes me. As in, who am I? What is important to me? And others? What effect do I have? That sudden realization several years ago prompted me; it’s when I came up with a motto for myself to reflect who I am. A motto is something you can come back to repeatedly to nurture yourself, to calm fires or fire up. My motto that I have followed my entire life is this: “Write with joy and finish with finesse.” Thanks for reminding me of this joy. And I, too, love nature walks and reading about nature and I love novels that pay attention to nature and how it shapes us. I’m now working on picture books about nature–a new challenge for myself. A joyful one.