I feel good

Wait a second, dude. Pause. Remember this feeling.

Untitled by Dan Miller (2006, Source: MoMa)

No. 123: I feel good

I feel good, said James Brown once. 

James? I concur. 

After last week, I feel really good. 

Here’s why.

It’s feeling like the work that I’ve done over the last two-ish years is starting to yield some lovely results. I’m getting signals that I’m on the right path, and that kind of validation is impossible to explain. 

But you better believe I’m going to try.

When I say “work,” I’m not talking only about the nuts and bolts of writing (although, that’s certainly part of it). 

More so? I’m talking about the work I’ve done on myself as I’ve tried — and continue to try — to be the artist that I want to be. A lot of this newsletter has been finding the confidence, the voice, the authenticity, the bravery to pursue my creative goals. And it’s also been attempting to figure myself out by way of putting words on a page.

i.e.

Who am I? Why do I write like I do? What do I think about writing? What do I think about myself? Why am I so compelled to do this? How else might I create? Do all mediums require the same thing, or something different?

In short, it’s the thinking that’s been most valuable a.k.a the “think work” I’ve done in the form of weekly essays every Friday. 

My theory? It’s only because of all that thinking that I’m finally learning not to think it all — to only take the energy I’m feeling and react to it.

That’s it.

That, my friends, has been my big revelation. 

Which is not very exciting, I know.  

Like, dude, why didn’t you just, you know, not think from the start? 

Dude.

Fair point.

But here’s the thing. 

I don’t believe I could have gotten to the place I am now without doing the things I did, thinking the thoughts I thought, being fearful even when there was no reason to fear.

One thing leads to the next leads to the next.

And, I guess, with this brief newsletter, I’d just like to acknowledge that before getting back to business.

Because there is much more business to be done.

I’d like to acknowledge the new excitement I’m experiencing as a result of feeling better equipped than ever before. I’m ready. I’ve passed the boss stage at the end of level one and my prize is a suit of armor to help me through the more difficult levels to come.

In fact, I’m actively looking for more things to test me. I want to do more. I want to get further and further out of my comfort zone. More writing and more stories there will certainly be. Doing more public readings like Wednesday’s at Chuck Palahniuk’s Midwest Story Night? A given. Deciding to practice improv was a huge leap. Starting a podcast — which means talking in front of a camera — has been another. Driving home from Ohio, I made plans to write and shoot a short film. I want to do more.

I want, so badly, to make stuff. 

In a way, I’ve always been like that, but now the pull feels irresistible. If not making stuff is regular life, making stuff is a house party with all of your most beloved friends. All that sits between me and that party is actually making it. I have the tools. I have the desire. So, without further ado, let’s party, shall we?

And all this brings to mind a quote I heard once and loved. 

The object isn't to make art, it's to be in that wonderful state which makes art inevitable, said Robert Henri once. 

I’m in that wonderful state, and I’ll do anything to make sure I never leave. ♦

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Weekly Three

HEAR: “Stay Up! (Viagra)” by 88-Keys, Kanye West

READ:

Kerri Rickard

is an excellent writer and the organizer (in tandem with Chuck) of midwest story night. Check out her substack,

Might As Well Go All the Way…

VIEW: Photos of me and

Maegan Heil

reading at Chuck Palahniuk's Midwest Story Night in Youngstown, Ohio.