Roxane Gay Made Me Do It: In Three Scenes from Medellín in March
Alternatively, "How This Space Begins..."
When the Writer Knows the Writing is No Good. In honor of her brother, Joel Gay, Roxane Gay created a writing fellowship for new and aspiring writers to create a monthly newsletter, with advice and feedback and mentorship from her. A dream for those of us who are still trying to “make it” in writing in some form or another. I wrote my application on the heels of completing applications for PhD programs. And although I was deeply invested in the opportunity to write a monthly newsletter – and to work with Roxane Gay my god – I did not produce my best work. I felt spent. Like my writing had dried up. And I knew, even when I hit submit, that I had not created something that I was particularly proud of. And I was not selected for the fellowship. What I promised myself – and told my partner for accountability – was that I was going to start a newsletter anyways. Whether or not I was chosen, this was the time.
On Being Moved. In what I thought was a truly generous move, Roxane Gay shared her general feedback about the applications she received. What we, collectively, did well. And not. What she felt moved by. And not. I pored over that email. And then read through the newsletter briefs of the three folks who were selected. And I realized a thing about myself, at this moment in time. See, I was reading those synopses and the answer to the following question was clear, for each of them: What moves you? Their writing, their subject matter, their perspective was clearly something that each person was passionate about. Something close to home. Something they felt moved by. And what I realized about myself was that it has been some time since I’ve felt deeply moved by something on a consistent and sustainable basis. I’ve been thinking about the things that have moved me. And wondering when I’ll find that feeling again.
Vibe Check. I’m sitting on my balcony in Medellín. It’s well after dark, and the hills are brilliantly lit. And I’m aware of another truth about this moment: I might be depressed. Writing has been hard for me for months. Morning pages. Tarot reflections. Letters. Things that come easily have felt heavy. My brain feels foggy. Eyes feel veiled. Like I just can’t reach the words that can viscerally express where I am at. This is a consequence of the pandemic, to be sure. And the general rhythm of my brain, maybe. But that’s the truth about this moment. I might be depressed. And thus, writing is hard. But I am committing to showing up here. Because I know that, despite this veil, writing is the most important thing I have ever done. All this to say, I’m writing a newsletter – and Roxane Gay made me do it.
