NOWHERE FAST is a hub for writing that is messy, painful, playful & self-reflective.
Can you relate to the following statements?
Even though I write, I don’t consider myself a writer
My writing isn’t good enough to be anything more than a hobby
I have trouble sticking to a regular writing practice
I have trouble finishing stories/essays/poems I start
None of my stories or essays ever feel good enough to publish
I’ve been rejected by journals and magazines, which deters me from submitting my work
I wait for inspiration to strike, and I am disappointed when it doesn’t
Writing is painful, and yet… I am compelled to keep writing.
I originally created NOWHERE FAST (NF) as a place to re-publish, centralize (and even re-write) my stories, poems, essays, plays, and other orphaned works.
But I want NF to become more than just a place for to consolidate and re-work my own writing. I want to also publish your neglected/orphaned/fabulous/messy works of genius.
My hope is that NF becomes a hang-out for misfits and rule-breakers who value creative expression over perfection, and connection and community over awards and accolades.
As a budding newsletter, NF is a dandelion, dropping seeds into the hands of fearful, generous, and hopeful writers. The only rule is to share what you’ve got; adventure, frustration, mystery, and fear. Our shared humanity is our fuel.
Resentment. Jealousy. Fantasy. Nightmares. Use it all. And lean on like-minded writers who’ve stopped waiting by the phone. Write. Rewrite. Collaborate. Dare to publish what isn’t finished. Because, just like Life, writing isn’t linear. And mistakes abound.
Here’s what I know: Writing is, by design, gross and ugly — with food, blood and bugs squashed between the pages of composition notebooks (like vaginal paste that ruins our bikini briefs). When I know better, I file my ugly drafts far away, hoping that some day I’ll read them again and find something I didn’t see before — and maybe that something is a gem that at least one person will benefit from reading.
I have also been lazy and neglectful, convincing myself that my words are too ugly to keep or ever read. I forgot how to write with a pen and paper. And then I learned, after three days of vocational testing, that my (dominant) left hand is slower than my right, and much slower than my thoughts.
I fear losing thoughts. As if every idea is precious. (It is not.) But the writing process — and the willingness to share that process — is valuable.
ART BREEDS ART BREEDS ART BREEDS ART.
Who cares about good. Good enough is sufficient. Even awful can be generative. Who cares what I think is good enough.
Who am I to say my art — of anyone’s — isn’t good. Who am I to judge it useful or worthy. If it keeps the chain going, we (as a species) might just find our collective way back to creativity as valuable and important and critical for survival. (At the very least, more valuable than pro sports.)
Because art generates inspiration. Even if we hate the art. If it prompts us to learn from it and (try to) do (what we think) is better, perhaps we are rewarded with HOPE. A reason to keep going. A purpose. A community. A reason to live.
We, as humans, might keep finding reasons to wake up, to write stuff — to tell our truths, as only we can tell it, in case the folks who need to read it, find it. And maybe they’ll get up the next day with a response. Full circle, and beyond.
Okay, but why should YOU subscribe?
If you write, you are a writer. If you are the kind of writer who tosses work they think is crap, or spends minutes-into-years staring at a blank screen or page, I am your people, and hopefully I will one day become a WE. So we don’t just die in isolation and loneliness.
My wish is that NOWHERE FAST will publish what isn’t perfect, or even finished. I want to re-write, to reveal process changes over time; how the writing and writer evolves (or reverts); how culture speaks through art; and how life shapes practice (and is shaped by it, too).
A tall order, and a scary one. But I’m pretty tall. 5’10’’. Some say 6 ft.
If you edit as you go because you want every word to be perfect, or else it’s crap, like I was trained to think, you’re wasting your time. “Perfection” is a fantasy, and a boring one at that. So, let’s try for lengths, laps and mistakes instead.
Then: let it simmer, and go on vacation. When you return, maybe you’ll find a gem you didn’t realize was there. And that gem might be enough to keep you going.
