Do you know the Ernest Hemingway quote about how to write a novel? “First, you have to defrost the refrigerator.” The joke is that to write, you have to do a lot of not writing first. You have to distract yourself. The story about the quote, or at least the way I’ve heard it, is that some idiot asked, in a Q&A after one of his readings: “How do you write a novel?” As if that were a question with an answer. That was Hemingway’s snide response. It’s a story writers tell each other, a quote that gets passed around and adapted to the moment. A reminder that everyone procrastinates the real writing. Here’s my version: To write a short story, first you have to write an essay. To finish the essay, first you have to write a newsletter piece. To write one thing, you have to focus on a different thing.
One of the expressions we used in my fiction workshop last semester is: “The Thing and the Other thing”. One of my classmates first said it, and it became our shorthand for the semester. By which we meant: a story need a surface level situation and a tension point buried beneath its surface. Think of your favorite stories and see if you can identify the Thing and the Other thing. The Other thing is the real heart and heat of the piece. I’ve adopted it for myself, too. In my own writing, a story isn’t compelling to work on when I don’t have both, even if I don’t always know what either are right off the bat. Sometimes I have to write the Thing to uncover what the Other thing I’m really writing about is. Sometimes that’s all the fun.
When it comes to the writing process, too, it’s vital for me to have a Thing (the main thing I’m supposed to be working on, the novel, the short story) and an Other thing (the thing I’m distracting myself with, the fridge, the newsletter piece). There is constant back and forth, constant flip-flopping between which piece is the Thing and which is the Other thing. Right now, this is the Other thing. Today, the Thing is my writing assignment, a response to a prompt given in class. My story is going to be about a philosophy student taking on the views of the philosophers she is studying, and taking them one step too far. It’s due tomorrow, so of course I’ve written only the opening, and of course I’ve spent the morning writing this Other thing instead. But that’s okay, because I meant to send out a newsletter piece for February 1st. And last week, when I considered this my primary Focus, I wrote a Different thing instead: an essay about earthquakes and doorways. I’m sharing that with a professor this week, and then I will share it with you here. When you read it, I hope you will uncover the Other thing buried beneath the rubble of the earthquake metaphor. And soon, that essay will flip flop between Novel and Fridge and back once more, when, in its place, I’m supposed to be working on a short story about the day Roe V. Wade was overturned. That’s how it goes.
So here’s the thing: This newsletter project of mine, this Autodidact space, it exists exactly for this. I created it as a place to share some thoughts and words with you, my friends and readers. This is where I return when I find the time and inspiration, and even more so, when I need to defrost the freezer. It’s best when I keep these short, when I write them quickly, like this morning. That’s how these usually come out, that’s how they capture the moment. When these pieces go well, the Thing that starts here sometimes turns into something bigger, into something better. But sometimes just writing it allows me to make sense of the Other thing for myself, and then it’s served its purpose.
Originally, when this newsletter piece was the Thing I meant to be writing, I was going to write up a list of 24 goals for 2024. It was supposed to act as an antidote to my 23 highlights of 2023 list, a list I actually failed to write and refused to return to this year, for the first time since I began this tradition of mine. I was going to say that, after looking back at and rehashing 2023 one too many times, I’m looking ahead at 2024 instead, with you as my witness. And then, just this weekend, when I’d already missed my own deadline, I thought I’d name this little essay “Fresh Start”. I’d write about how I feel like I’ve started off on such better footing, on solid ground, this semester. How I hit a big resest button when home for the holidays, and I feel like myself again. How all I needed was a bit of a perspective shift to see that everything here in NYC is good, quite good even. I was going to talk about my very full January back here, and about my Saturday, which, that evening in my journal, I summarized as my “BEST NYC DAY TO DATE!”
But today I’m just going to say this. This is me cleaning out the freezer. Getting things out of the way. Hello. I’m writing again. This year, my goals are:
To write more (we’re off to a good start)
To read more (we’re off to a good start)
To share more, both here and elsewhere, both finished pieces and things in process, both old things and new things (we’re off to a good start)
To journal every day, at least a little bit (we’re getting close)
To be more candid and honest. To say the Things. To myself and to Others. (we’re doing better)
For now, for today, that’s all, and that’s enough.
What are your goals for the year? What do you need to clear out of your way? Can’t wait to share the Other thing with you here, soonish. (Now, I ought to that philosophy student…)
P.S. : My friends and family, I owe many of you a hello or a follow up of one kind or another. Look out for a carrier pigeon from me coming before long!
You are a teacher, philosopher, inspiration, list maker, fridge defroster, breath of fresh air.