2024 in Review: Feeling Grateful

Let's talk about time and big projects.

Dec 10, 2024

Header illustration by Heather.

Many times this year, I’ve wondered how a creative practice fits into everything happening in the world. November felt overwhelming, and I couldn’t find the energy to write a newsletter issue. I hope you can understand why.

In getting this month’s issue prepped, I spent weeks trying to figure out what to talk about. Eventually, I settled on a topic that feels authentic: what writing meant to me this year, and what it means to me every day.

And there’s another theme to this issue: gratitude. It feels immense, and multilayered, and different from other years.

When I feel gratitude, I also feel grief: I hit some major moments this year, and grieved the people who weren’t there to see them. I also felt grief for people I don’t even know, in other parts of the world, dealing with horrific events every day.

When I feel gratitude, I also feel fear: I want to hold all the people all things I love closer, because the next few years won’t be easy.

one of the many gorgeous views in Mendocino

And other days, when I feel gratitude, I stop to give thanks for everyday moments of joy. I’ve spent years battling anxiety and depression—and one of my biggest challenges is staying in the moment. Some days I wonder: Will the joy dissipate sooner than I think? How can I hold it tight enough, so I don’t lose it? Other days, the tough ones, I think: Will this moment of depression ever end? Can things ever feel good again?

I’ve had to learn that joy and sadness co-exist.

What does this have to do with writing? How does writing, as a practice, fit into all of this?

Writing has allowed me to slow down. It has encouraged me to re-evaluate the “small” things around me as precious, and worthy of attention. When I look at a stunning sight, whether a new body of water in a new place, or a certain patch of sky right on my block, I like to slow down and think about how to describe it. Sometimes I take out my notes app and jot some phrases down. Other times I take a photo to reference later.

This year, I was incredibly lucky to see new places, all tied to my writing practice. I did a writing workshop in Gambier, Ohio through Kenyon Review; my first-ever long residency in Nebraska City through the Kimmel Nelson Harding Center for the Arts; and a gorgeous, shorter residency in Mendocino at the Mendocino Art Center.

I’m so grateful to everyone who opened their doors for me.

Writing also helps me think about connection. You can create a connection with another person without ever seeing them in front of you. I know, because I’ve felt connected to writers I’ve never met, through books they’ve written. I’ve felt connected to stories about places, even though I’ll never meet the people who shaped them.

In Nebraska City, I shared a meal with four strangers who quickly became my circle of people in this new place. I got stuck in a thunderstorm and stood under the eave of a restaurant, which was closed that day, watching the rain fall. I texted my apartment mate, someone I’d met just days before, and she offered to pick me up, even though we hardly knew each other (hi, roomie!)

Mendocino reminded me that people are still kind without expecting anything in return. I talked to more strangers, learning about their lives and their passions; I remembered why I love to write about home and people and art.

Writing helped me hold on to these moments.

I tried to listen this year. To read. To witness. To stretch my knowledge, and my patience. Writing helped me do all of that, too.

A lot of times, when people asked via text or social media how I was doing, I answered, “I’m just trying to be a person.” I said jokingly at first, but then it felt more and more accurate.

I am, many days, just trying to be a human. One with empathy and a willingness to learn.

I hope that in 2024, this newsletter encouraged you to nurture your creative practice. I hope it helped you learn about all the possible avenues for exploring your artistic journey. At the very least, I hope it was entertaining to read, even on those days when it felt difficult to make something, or even think about making something.

I’m grateful, last BUT NOT LEAST, to you, for reading and supporting. Thank you so much for being here.

Keep scrolling for 20 opportunities for creatives!

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