Notes on not giving up
Three things bringing hope to a distressing week - Friday, I'm in love - Issue 11
1. Rewilding Scotland. Joy is spending an afternoon with someone who has dedicated their life to nature. To redressing the damage caused by commodifying the land. To prioritising biodiversity and going against the grain.
At the weekend I booked a (last minute, because me) tour of Bamff Eco Estate, in Perthshire, where beavers were reintroduced in 2002. Owner and custodian, Paul Ramsay took us along muddy tracks and through wetlands, generously sharing his family’s experience of navigating the many waves of bureaucracy and conservation policy over the past few decades, since the restoration project began. Along the way we patted free-roaming pigs, learned about reverse drainage and the planting of native species, and generally marvelled at Paul’s tenacity.
Despite having to endure cold toes the entire time, our mostly fascinated but also constantly yawning 11 year-old gradually worked up the courage to ask the million dollar question - why, against such a relentlessly challenging backdrop, would you decide to do this?
The answer is a deep, lifelong love of nature. And an understanding that, as Robin Wall Kimmerer wrote, “To love a place is not enough. We must find ways to heal it.”
We didn’t see the beavers, this time. But we did spot plenty of evidence of their existence. Situated on the Cateran Trail, and with a selection of huts and bothies to stay in, we’ll definitely be heading back to Bamff soon.
2. Celebrating failure - The latest round of rejection emails from poetry journals, followed by learning I had made it through to the publisher’s final shortlist with my debut pamphlet, which ultimately was not selected (insert all the emotions here), is a reminder that I’m trying to do a very hard thing. And so are you, my writer friends.
Creative fields are incredibly competitive. The editors of the journals I have been submitting to describe receiving hundreds, or sometimes even thousands, of entries:
“We received poetry from all over the world: nearly 1,500 poets sent us their fleshy words, giving us a buffet of over 5,000 poems from which to choose just 60.”
Meanwhile, friends and clients working in filmmaking, visual art, screenwriting and other creative fields are facing similar hurdles. It can be hard not to lose hope.
For me, receiving considered and thoughtful feedback from the indie publisher who I long to work with was exactly the encouragement I needed to keep going. Knowing I came so close with this collection is both excruciating and exhilarating.
Meanwhile, in the same week that his short film was not selected for a festival, my husband was asked to shoot in New York. What a wild ride this creative life is.
Twenty plus years in, what I do know is this - if we can keep channelling our energy into our craft, then our work - when it does get published / exhibited / selected - will be all the better for this extra time in the development. Don’t give up. Failure means you are trying to do hard things.
Also, being in community with folks who absolutely get it makes all the difference (see no. 3).
3. Finding the light - Some weeks this is harder than others. And yet, when hope feels difficult to find is exactly when we need it most.
In The Spark Crew (a cross-discipline creative community for anyone who loves to be inspired by and connect with other artists, writers, makers and creative folk), we are tugging on curiosity threads and chasing the light in a myriad of ways this month. If that sounds like something that could spark joy for you, then you are so very welcome to come and join the fun.
The last novel I read - Hurricaine Season by Fernanda Melchor. I’ve had this on the go for months - it’s enthrallingly written, in a stream of consciousness style with paragraphs that seem to never end yet hold the attention regardless. It is also one of the darkest, most brutal books I have ever read, hence the need for many decompression breaks along the way. Consider this, from Anthony Cummins writing in The Guardian:
“The near-dystopian onslaught of horror and squalor leaves you dumbstruck, as Melchor shows us the desperation of girls cruelly denied their ambitions, railroaded into household service or worse, and the depravity of boys for whom desire comes fatally muddled with power and humiliation.”
Meanwhile, sales of dystopian novels including The Handmaid’s Tale and 1984 are on the rise following the US election. I’ll leave you to draw your own conclusions.
The book I’m currently reading - I’ve got a few on the go, as usual. Constellations by Sinéad Gleeson is the one that I’m coming to the end of, while simultaneously not wanting it to finish. This collection of essays ranges from the personal to the political, exquisitely drawing connections along the way:
“I have come to think of all the metal in my body as artificial stars, glistening beneath the skin, a constellation of old and new metal. A map, a tracing of connections and a guide to looking at things from different angles.”
What I’m watching - I’m now on to season two of German sci-fi thriller, Dark. In this season it rains less, but my brain hurts a little more with trying to keep track of the intricacies of time travel. It’s little wonder a review in Forbes magazine was accompanied by this, not-so-catchy, headline - Netflix’s ‘Dark’ Is The Most Mentally Exhausting Show I’ve Ever Seen, But One Of Sci-Fi’s Best.
Got a glimmer to share? I’d love to hear it.
And taking us into the weekend is the last song on my Spotify playlist, the 1994 wonder - Sour Times by Portishead.
A beautiful and inspirational Friday list, as always. Dark times indeed but I keep spotting those constellations of hope everywhere in the creative world. Xx
A useful, measured and well-worded reflection.