I go into the Littles’ room in the morning to wake them up, to announce the dawning of a new week, and I approach the towering triple bunk we got for them when they were much tinier and the two of them shared a room with their older brother. It rises in the middle of the room (because that’s the only place it fits) like some kind of tree house.
I find the two of them both in the bottom bunk, both fast asleep, both curled up like cocoons in the tightness of their own blankets. But together. Their backs face each other, as if on guard against anything that might come at them from the cruel, cruel outside world. They seem to be on lookout.
“Good morning,” I say softly. “Time to wake up.”
Their eyes move first, lids twitching, brows stretching to open. They look at me and for that first second they look as if they have no idea who I am or what planet I am from. Then recognition. Then smiles.
“What happened?” I ask. “How did Poppy end up in the bottom bunk?”
“She fell out in the middle of the night,” Leo said quietly, yawning. “So I told her just to get in bed with me.”
“Are you okay?” I ask Poppy.
She grins. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“You fell from all the way up there! You could’ve come and got me,” I say.
“It’s okay,” she insists. “Leo was here.”
I talk to our two oldest, who both attend the same college. They tell me they sometimes have breakfast together on the mornings when they have a late class, and I remember when they were tiny, 18 months apart. There’s a video of our son, the oldest, literally crawling back and forth over his sister.
“Cade, stop crawling on her!” one of us shouts in the home video, because this was 2005, when camcorders still existed. We lived in England then. It seems a million years ago.
But now, thinking of them eating breakfast together, it’s good to know they have each other. It’s good to know they choose to spend time together, even now, when they’re 19 and almost-21.
We all need that, don’t we? We all need to know there’s at least one person in the world who will show up if we need them. When we need them. Someone who knows us, who gets us, and still chooses to spend time with us.
I think that sticking together as writers, having each other’s backs, being a source of encouragement, might be one of the most important things we can do besides the actual writing. We operate with so much opposition.
Sometimes it feels like it’s us versus platform-building. How am I going to grow these numbers so I have an audience to sell my books to, these books I spill my guts writing? What am I supposed to be posting? And how in the world does this even relate to book sales? (Hint: much of the time, it doesn’t.)
And sometimes it feels like it’s us against the Resistance, this inexplicable force that rises up and somehow convinces us that we would be better off folding the laundry or raking the leaves or doing anything anything anything besides writing.
Resistance is experienced as fear; the degree of fear equates to the strength of Resistance. Therefore the more fear we feel about a specific enterprise, the more certain we can be that that enterprise is important to us and to the growth of our soul. That's why we feel so much Resistance. If it meant nothing to us, there'd be no Resistance.”
― Steven Pressfield, The War of Art
And now with A.I. it’s us against the machines. Us against the humans who think typing out a short prompt and a dead writer’s name or style or preference will somehow spit out a novel worth engaging. It’s us against the world and all it wants to do is consume consume consume to the point that it will eat anything now, even words without a soul behind them. Even stolen stories. Even words an algorithm has created, the same algorithm that’s causing depression in teens and anxiety in adults, the same algorithm that keeps trying to sell me life insurance and dog food and exercise equipment so how long do you think it will be before your novel is trying to sell you wrinkle cream?
It’s the creatives against the world, people.
We absolutely cannot do this thing on our own.
When you fall off the top bunk of your creative life, when you can’t get the agent or the publishers don’t bite or the book doesn’t sell or you’re not even sure where to begin, who’s going to call out in the darkness and tell you, It’s okay. You’re okay. I’ve got your back?
And when you hear the metaphorical thump of someone else falling out of their bunk, will you roll over and go back to sleep? Or will you reach out? Make sure they’re okay?
Forge relationships with writers. Reach out when you feel the nudge. Make connections. Don’t be afraid to ask.
And the more you can interact in real life, the better. But don’t let that stop you. Set up a Zoom call. Send the text. Comment on the thread.
This creating, this writing: the systems around us aren’t making it any easier. Let’s do this thing together.
How have other writers and creatives had your back? Watched out for you? Encouraged your forward progress? Brag on someone in the comments.
Episode 2 of Word By Word is live! Today I’m sharing about my writing journey, including how my self-published novel ended up turning into a three-book deal with a publisher. Bryan and Maile pepper me with questions. It’s a fun one.
You can find all of our episodes over at Apple Podcasts or Spotify or anywhere you listen to podcasts! We also have a new Instagram account for the podcast . . . please follow to keep up with the episodes and to get some daily writing encouragement.
Finally, don’t forget about our Nine Month Novel series (the last post was here: “Why You Should Tell the Ones You Love that You’re a Writer”). You can either use this series of posts and videos every Friday to write your own novel in around nine months, or you can simply watch each video individually and receive encouragement in whatever area we cover that week. Plus, each week there’s an opportunity to chat with other writers in the comments. Plus plus, all 78 of our writing videos (which include the series for the Nine Month Novel, Six Month Memoir, and the ReVision Experience) are available to paying subscribers anytime.
Last week I was sorting through a pile of cards that I've saved from folks and there was not one, not two, but THREE handwritten cards from you in there, just building me up and encouraging me. Shawn, you have a gift and it's so generative. Thank you for being you.
I have enjoyed the possibilities for collaboration on Substack so much. On this platform, it is often the case that collaboration is not only ordered toward promotion but also toward authentic conversation -- the conversations that come out of such work on the 'stack are fruitful and grow upward and outward over time. It feels a lot less like "I scratch your back, you scratch mine" and a lot more like an actual creative or philosophical community like the ones I have experienced at colleges and universities.
We help each other out of goodwill but also in pursuit of common philosophical goals. The latter helps protect the former!
Thank you for raising this, Shawn. Creatives unite!