Yes!! I love this. I think, for me, the "slow life" is important in part BECAUSE it provides space for the kind of rigor you're discussing -- which involves so much time and focus you simply can't have if your attention is constantly being grabbed by the noise and demands of a faster-paced life. The slow life is meant to be spacious, and part of what I think that space is FOR is dedication and practice. Playing music, painting, working on dance, writing, building -- you can't sink fully into those things in a quick half hour every day. They aren't tasks to be checked off a list. They require you to pour yourself into them. Which is hard to do, but also so wonderful when you've done it...
In my third year of college, I did an independent study which consisted of doing absolutely nothing but rewriting a single essay I had written the semester before. It was an amazing experience. At times it was hideously dull and frustrating, but the piece I had at the end of the semester was so radically different from where I had begun -- and it would never have found its real shape if I hadn't set aside the time for it. I've never forgotten that lesson. It makes me think that in some way perhaps rigor is simply a matter of return, again and again, and of making sure that both you and the people around you are gently nudging you and making space for you to keep *on* returning, when so many other things in life are tugging us away.
Yes! Absolutely! I was thinking about how little rigour is actually possible in the hustle-- like if you bring out a book every 6 months, how much energy or rigorous process could possibly go into it? It is so interesting how the slower process is often seen as less when it can so often be more. And I love your independent study of rewriting that essay over and over for a semester... what a stunning project, what training for a lifetime of learning and creating!
I came here to say something similar to Jericha's comment--you need time away from concerns of productivity for real rigour. I've worked on umpteen revisions of one novel in the last six years, and it's not done yet, and sometimes it's been frustrating to get feedback and have to do one more revision; but it's a much better novel for it, and I'm glad I put in the work. I'm a much better writer for it, too.
Loved this so much. Early on in my writing a lot of folks had told me I either had it or not but my discovery has been quite opposite. It is in the moments of writing, rewriting and working on it that really is nice. it is like the process has its own gifts. I feel this about all work though and maybe as you are saying, its frowned upon now. but ive made some good discoveries about myself in the midst of working on it.
Ah Nids, that 'you either have it or you don't' is so harmful. I gave up as a writer several times because I felt the conclusion was that I didn't have it.
Yes!! I love this. I think, for me, the "slow life" is important in part BECAUSE it provides space for the kind of rigor you're discussing -- which involves so much time and focus you simply can't have if your attention is constantly being grabbed by the noise and demands of a faster-paced life. The slow life is meant to be spacious, and part of what I think that space is FOR is dedication and practice. Playing music, painting, working on dance, writing, building -- you can't sink fully into those things in a quick half hour every day. They aren't tasks to be checked off a list. They require you to pour yourself into them. Which is hard to do, but also so wonderful when you've done it...
In my third year of college, I did an independent study which consisted of doing absolutely nothing but rewriting a single essay I had written the semester before. It was an amazing experience. At times it was hideously dull and frustrating, but the piece I had at the end of the semester was so radically different from where I had begun -- and it would never have found its real shape if I hadn't set aside the time for it. I've never forgotten that lesson. It makes me think that in some way perhaps rigor is simply a matter of return, again and again, and of making sure that both you and the people around you are gently nudging you and making space for you to keep *on* returning, when so many other things in life are tugging us away.
Yes! Absolutely! I was thinking about how little rigour is actually possible in the hustle-- like if you bring out a book every 6 months, how much energy or rigorous process could possibly go into it? It is so interesting how the slower process is often seen as less when it can so often be more. And I love your independent study of rewriting that essay over and over for a semester... what a stunning project, what training for a lifetime of learning and creating!
I came here to say something similar to Jericha's comment--you need time away from concerns of productivity for real rigour. I've worked on umpteen revisions of one novel in the last six years, and it's not done yet, and sometimes it's been frustrating to get feedback and have to do one more revision; but it's a much better novel for it, and I'm glad I put in the work. I'm a much better writer for it, too.
Loved this so much. Early on in my writing a lot of folks had told me I either had it or not but my discovery has been quite opposite. It is in the moments of writing, rewriting and working on it that really is nice. it is like the process has its own gifts. I feel this about all work though and maybe as you are saying, its frowned upon now. but ive made some good discoveries about myself in the midst of working on it.
Ah Nids, that 'you either have it or you don't' is so harmful. I gave up as a writer several times because I felt the conclusion was that I didn't have it.