JENNA! Sunday was magic. I had the same feeling as you — finally, proof that I hadn't actually devolved into a bridge-dwelling troll with nothing on the horizon but desperately grabbing at the ankles of anyone who is unlucky enough to walk past me.
I'm struggling with my own upcoming set of posts — last month, I finally figured out a kind of content pattern/schedule that I feel excited about and I'm so proud of the work that came out of it — you would think that would have left me excited to get going this month! But you would be wrong.
This month, we have been in a vortex of different illnesses which began with pink eye and ended with some kind of horrid auto-immune eye problem that stems from being too goddamn sick for too long, and I have really been hoping if I just wait long enough the impulse to write will come back from wherever she went with a breath of fresh air and a chocolate croissant.
I wanted to say how much I enjoyed your descriptive writing here — because you didn't list it as an option. I tend to find that what I subscribe for, and what I end up being willing to pay for (on substack, anyway) is the author's perspective. When you weave a little window that lets me come into your world for a minute. My kid is too little for college yet, but I like hearing what you're going through because it makes me feel a little less alone even though I don't share the specific challenge.
Thanks for pushing through midwinter, here's hoping I can ride the wave too.
Is writing like living in new york - if you love it more than you hate it then you should keep doing it? I also remember the need to escape the city and how it sometimes felt like the city was making it as difficult as possible to leave (traffic, train delays, etc etc etc). I hope you get the chance to step outside of city limits and have a breather.
You're definitely a great writer and amazing artist! You've always been since I first discovered you on SFD. Never stop! Take breaks but don't stop. It's what defines you. It's been a crummy moody day lately and I'm still coughing. It's true, as we get older we just don't give a hoot about what other people think anymore. Maybe I'm just fed up but I'm sure it's okay to express your feelings. To have the freedom. Alot of art openings tonight like at the new Korean Cultural Center, sculptures by John Pai and at the Sugar Hill Children's Museum. Can't wait to view these!
Thank you Jenna, for including a link to my stuff. It means a lot. Reading this had me thinking why it's hard to call ourselves what we are. Validation and invalidation are all over the place and thoroughly inconsistent. I remember the first time I confidently called myself an artist. This was after devoting everything to it for three years after art school. I had just sold a large piece for $3500 and finally felt justified. But really, that didn't change a thing about whether I was an artist or not. I still struggle with this all these years later, but I realize now that I am what I am and this is something no one can give me and no one can take away. It's the one absolute consistent thing.
I think you’re right about that. We seem to carry around this insidious and perpetual self-judgement. I think the freedom of “in the act of doing, thinking, feeling—you are” is such an amazing and beautiful thing.
Oh, this essay really resonates. I was not going to call myself a cartoonist or illustrator until someone paid me to do either of those things. But now I do so simply because I have to call myself something, and it might as well describe a way I actually spend my time. I have also felt that desire to go somewhere, anywhere. A driving trip I took to Montreal with my brother really helped. I know it’s not exciting, but if you want take a little break upstate, we have a small room in a fair amount of disarray that you could stay in!
Jenna - this is so relatable, especially in the liminal space. I've been here for about 5 years now, since decided to sell my business. I still have passion and interests, but sometimes I feel like I'm suspended in the air, somewhere between extreme passion and total apathy. I am pretty sure it's primarily perimenopause, but also perhaps leaving behind a career and a brand that totally defined my entire personality and without it, I'm not sure who to be. ❤️ But still we write...
I think it takes a lot courage and vulnerability to say "So far, 2024 isn’t giving me any joy." when the all the narratives are telling us that the start of a new year is supposed to be good, fresh, and full of hope.
You're definitely a writer, and a very good one. Thank you for sharing your story!
Very thought-provoking and insightful piece Jenna.
Personally, I consider myself a writer and everything I write is both a confession and a struggle to understand things about myself and this world in which I live. This is what everyone’s work should be-whether you dance or paint or sing. It is a confession, a baring of your soul, your faults, those things you simply cannot or will not understand or accept. You stumble forward, confused, and you share. If you’re lucky, you learn something.
JENNA! Sunday was magic. I had the same feeling as you — finally, proof that I hadn't actually devolved into a bridge-dwelling troll with nothing on the horizon but desperately grabbing at the ankles of anyone who is unlucky enough to walk past me.
I'm struggling with my own upcoming set of posts — last month, I finally figured out a kind of content pattern/schedule that I feel excited about and I'm so proud of the work that came out of it — you would think that would have left me excited to get going this month! But you would be wrong.
This month, we have been in a vortex of different illnesses which began with pink eye and ended with some kind of horrid auto-immune eye problem that stems from being too goddamn sick for too long, and I have really been hoping if I just wait long enough the impulse to write will come back from wherever she went with a breath of fresh air and a chocolate croissant.
I wanted to say how much I enjoyed your descriptive writing here — because you didn't list it as an option. I tend to find that what I subscribe for, and what I end up being willing to pay for (on substack, anyway) is the author's perspective. When you weave a little window that lets me come into your world for a minute. My kid is too little for college yet, but I like hearing what you're going through because it makes me feel a little less alone even though I don't share the specific challenge.
Thanks for pushing through midwinter, here's hoping I can ride the wave too.
Is writing like living in new york - if you love it more than you hate it then you should keep doing it? I also remember the need to escape the city and how it sometimes felt like the city was making it as difficult as possible to leave (traffic, train delays, etc etc etc). I hope you get the chance to step outside of city limits and have a breather.
Dear Jenna,
You're definitely a great writer and amazing artist! You've always been since I first discovered you on SFD. Never stop! Take breaks but don't stop. It's what defines you. It's been a crummy moody day lately and I'm still coughing. It's true, as we get older we just don't give a hoot about what other people think anymore. Maybe I'm just fed up but I'm sure it's okay to express your feelings. To have the freedom. Alot of art openings tonight like at the new Korean Cultural Center, sculptures by John Pai and at the Sugar Hill Children's Museum. Can't wait to view these!
Thank you Jenna, for including a link to my stuff. It means a lot. Reading this had me thinking why it's hard to call ourselves what we are. Validation and invalidation are all over the place and thoroughly inconsistent. I remember the first time I confidently called myself an artist. This was after devoting everything to it for three years after art school. I had just sold a large piece for $3500 and finally felt justified. But really, that didn't change a thing about whether I was an artist or not. I still struggle with this all these years later, but I realize now that I am what I am and this is something no one can give me and no one can take away. It's the one absolute consistent thing.
I think you’re right about that. We seem to carry around this insidious and perpetual self-judgement. I think the freedom of “in the act of doing, thinking, feeling—you are” is such an amazing and beautiful thing.
Oh, this essay really resonates. I was not going to call myself a cartoonist or illustrator until someone paid me to do either of those things. But now I do so simply because I have to call myself something, and it might as well describe a way I actually spend my time. I have also felt that desire to go somewhere, anywhere. A driving trip I took to Montreal with my brother really helped. I know it’s not exciting, but if you want take a little break upstate, we have a small room in a fair amount of disarray that you could stay in!
Jenna - this is so relatable, especially in the liminal space. I've been here for about 5 years now, since decided to sell my business. I still have passion and interests, but sometimes I feel like I'm suspended in the air, somewhere between extreme passion and total apathy. I am pretty sure it's primarily perimenopause, but also perhaps leaving behind a career and a brand that totally defined my entire personality and without it, I'm not sure who to be. ❤️ But still we write...
I just want to say the girl’s hair on your drawing is amazing! 😻
I think it takes a lot courage and vulnerability to say "So far, 2024 isn’t giving me any joy." when the all the narratives are telling us that the start of a new year is supposed to be good, fresh, and full of hope.
You're definitely a writer, and a very good one. Thank you for sharing your story!
A chat I’d like to be in would be about transitions. Just transitions, any kind.
Hell yeah! Congrats on owning it.
Very thought-provoking and insightful piece Jenna.
Personally, I consider myself a writer and everything I write is both a confession and a struggle to understand things about myself and this world in which I live. This is what everyone’s work should be-whether you dance or paint or sing. It is a confession, a baring of your soul, your faults, those things you simply cannot or will not understand or accept. You stumble forward, confused, and you share. If you’re lucky, you learn something.