Finding the words
The struggle to write
Hello everyone,
This has been an odd month. I’ve had a lot of positive moments, but I’ve also been facing a frustrating struggle.
I’m teaching my class again and genuinely enjoying it, though I’m looking forward to this being my last semester so I can dedicate time to my own writing. I’ve started publishing my short stories here for paying subscribers—links below—and I’m exploring doing readings too. Following through on creating and sharing work feels like a positive step.
The Struggle
But of course this positive movement has come with a serious challenge: I haven’t been writing the past month.
While my sister was in the hospital, I was able to create. I’m not sure if I was trying to make sense of what was going on, but I felt very connected to my creativity.
Since Judy’s funeral, though, I’ve been struggling. I have gotten words down, but everything feels clunky and forced. The stories feel incomplete.
I’ve tried different tactics—freewriting, handwriting, changing locations, allowing myself to write bad stories—but nothing has been working.
I kept trying to write about the grief. It comes unexpectedly—at the gym, during normal conversations—so I thought maybe I could lean into that. Get it out on the page.
But that didn’t work either.
Finding a Way Forward
It wasn’t until I wrote a story about myself struggling to write that it became clear—I feel empty. At my center, there’s this hollowed-out feeling. I’m either all emotions or nothing.
At first, I thought this emptiness was why I couldn’t write. I had no inspiration, nothing to draw from. But after journaling—a lot—I began to see a pattern. The emptiness wasn’t separate from the grief; it was a part of it. The other side of it. And maybe that emptiness isn’t the problem. Maybe it’s what I needed to be writing from.
During all this, I was reminded of a short story by Ernest Hemingway called “A Clean, Well-Lighted Place” where an old man and a waiter are both confronted with the existential dread of emptiness. The “nada.” The men seek light and order—shelter against it.
But for me, I wonder if I need to do the opposite. Instead of finding escape from the emptiness, perhaps I need to turn directly into it. Write from that hollow center rather than around it.
I haven’t quite figured out how to pull this off yet. I have made a few attempts and still they feel over-written and clunky, but now at least I feel I have a direction. Turn into the center and see what’s actually there.
So that’s where I am. Not writing, but I think I am finally finding my bearings of where to go next. I’m working through this emptiness.
In the meantime, I have three stories below and another five ready to publish over the coming months. I hope you’ll consider supporting my work with a paid subscription: