Given the times we live in, I’ve noticed more articles and books, for writers and artists, discussing the value and importance of pursuing creative endeavors, such as:
Keep Going: 10 Ways to Stay Creative in Good Times and Bad by Austin Kleon
Your Art Will Save Your Life by Beth Pickens
The Gift by Lewis Hyde, first published about 40 years ago, re-released this fall
In the latest and final Glimmer Train bulletin, author Bret Anthony Johnston writes eloquently about the losses we’re all now experiencing—including the loss of Glimmer Train itself. (Its last issue has now been printed and sent.) He says:
[Loss] can make fiction—reading it, writing it—feel like an obnoxious waste of time. And maybe it is. … But what if all of this loss is the exact reason to read? To write? This is what I keep thinking; this is the rope to which I cling. What if stories are the light that will enable us to navigate the dark?
Read his full piece, Even in the Gathering Darkness.
As anyone who’s read Glimmer Train knows, it has been a publication with a singular and special mission, not once veering off-course. I greatly admire how its founder-editors have chosen their exit; may the light of their work shine for many years to come.
Loss, indeed. Are we not everyone of us going to lose everything eventually. The impending ‘big loss’ is the most compelling aspect of fiction, in my opinion. Loss is the very nature of the “heart of a story.” Every good story. And to go farther out on a limb, here — what is the spiritual journey but discovering how to abide in each and every one of our losses on the way to the big one? John Keats called that ability ‘negative capability.’ What say ye to all of fhat?