Dec 17, 2021
Ashes And What To Leave Behind In 2021
One Discord of which I’m a part led an exercise over the past two weeks. It set up a channel called “Ashes” and asked people to list what they would leave behind. It was insightful, having a space to mourn for what we had to leave. The channel vanished after a week, per the terms of the project. I sadly had to miss the live voice chat to make an appointment.
Below are some of the items that I left behind, which I typed into that Discord. I hope that they will not resurge in 2022.
2021 Ashes
Two Of My Friends Almost Died
One of my friends was diagnosed with a serious illness (NOT COVID), just as we were planning a trip together. I canceled those plans, which were fortunately up in the air, and tried to figure out the odds. The odds seemed low at the time.
He’s alive now, by the way, and still kicking. We talk, and he’s thanked everyone who sent him gifts or offered moral support. Still, I think about the month where our friend group thought that we would lose him forever. He founded that friend group, inviting me to it, and we had talked for years about life, fiction, and dreams.
Another of my friends has had quite a rough year. She had two near-brushes with death and reached out to us after both of those misses. I think about her a lot, how I’ve never met her in person but I wish I could give her a hug and lots of bubblewrap armor. Instead, I’ve offered to buy her plants and draw for her. She’s a better artist than I am, but I am so glad to see her username every day.
There are people I know who have died. Those often came with numbness and the sense of not knowing how to process feelings. The grief came out in different ways, like with my grandfather.
A Long Writing Project Was Rejected
I was doing a lot of writing in 2021. It’s part of my life, and I’ve committed to improving every year. That means hustling, both on and off Medium, and completing my daily work tasks. Fiction has become a little harder, though I love anthology challenges.
One project, which I titled “Secret Project” on Twitter, was a rush job. I admit that I pitched it, and said that I would try to complete it in a month. The editor and I have a good relationship. We talked about what idea may work best and I committed to that one, honestly saying that I would do my best.
I did the rough draft in a month and edited it for two months to get rid of the wordiness and fix some of the plot holes. Team Starkid served as the inspiration, so I watched a lot of their recordings to get into the proper zone. The watching in turn inspired my Hatchetfield analyses.
The deadline was October 31. I submitted a few hours past midnight on Halloween. While the revised draft wasn’t perfect, I knew it was better. It had a fighting chance.
A few weeks passed. No response. I chalked it up to both of us being busy. The first project required a few weeks to respond to it.
Soon my email pinged. The rejection letter came: the central premise didn’t make sense, so the whole could not be accepted. Main characters ignored the simple solution.
I was crushed, spending a few hours in bed and the rest of November in a funk. Another editor currently has the secret project, having read the rough draft. I’m waiting on their response.
You are going to get rejected. It will not make sense. And sometimes it will come after a lot of hard work and trying to understand what story you are trying to tell. Perhaps it was making the deadline late.
Nanowrimo Groups Still Can’t Meet In-Person
Full disclosure: I’m a Municipal Liason for my local writer’s group, for Nanowrimo (National Novel Writing Month) all year round. That means that I send out events when we sprint, set the timers, help out people by providing a space, and do my best to fill in my predecessor’s shoes. They are big shoes to fill. It’s a volunteer position, and someone has to do it.
I like meeting in person so that I can get out of the house for a few hours and mingle. The smell of coffee and using headphones to block out very soft jazz can reset your brain in a matter of minutes. Seeing people’s crafts and projects, as well as their faces, means that we can catch up on our lives and offer motivational support. We haven’t done that since early 2020 before the announcement went out that all groups had to go remote. I had planned to go remote with the members anyway since we discussed that it wasn’t safe.
Currently, I run the sprints and events on Discord. The Nanowrimo organization had to send out missives ordering people not to meet in person officially or list physical events as such. You could do unofficial meetups, but in good conscience, I felt that was a bad idea. Besides the obvious danger, there is the fact that not having official permission could be a problem. Some members are immunocompromised, and others have relatives that are immunocompromised. It wasn’t worth the risk.
I was hoping that 2021 would be the year where we beat the virus, could laugh and say, “Wow, that was a surreal time, wasn’t it?” The virus wouldn’t be hanging over us in droplets. We could simply take a moment to breathe, hug, and give thanks that we haven’t gotten through it. November 2021 was when it sunk in, as the organization apologetically said that they hoped they wouldn’t have to carry on the mandate indefinitely, but there was no choice.
That laugh hasn’t happened. We’ve found other reasons to find joy, but it definitely isn’t the same going remote. I wish that things were different, that we could go back and say that it’s over. Until that happens, though, we are writing remotely.
Forward Into 2022
People like me fear that 2022 will be the same. This pandemic could go on indefinitely. Then we have to leave things behind, plans and investments into creation.
We have to move forward regardless. Plans are waiting, and with them hope. There is time to mourn, for what we have left in 2021. It’s okay to be sad, for as long as you need.
Update: The Ashes challenge came from the Dream Foundry Discord. The discord is part of Dream Foundry, an organization about writing, connection, and dreams. They’re running an end-of-the-year fundraiser and could use some donations.
