Writing Into Being Writing Hour
31 October 2024
Prompt 1: When I think of my ancestors…
…is an appropriate prompt because I’ve been reading through the tenth chapter of my manuscript today and they are largely who it is about. I discuss Damien Hirst’s Cronos Devouring His Children (2011), which is a sculpture that expands on Francisco Goya’s fresco Saturn Devouring His Son (1821-23). I start by feeling consumed by my mum’s demands when she needed care and end up delving into quite a bit of generational trauma. It’s a turning point towards the end of Part 2 where I’m showing more compassion towards her, because look at all the shit she had to wade through before and since we came along.
Prompt 2: If I could look into the future…
…I’d have seen it coming - Boom Boom.
Hmm, this needs some mulling. Look forward with hope, was what a therapist left me with at the end of our last session, let’s see, it was either in December 2020 or January 2021. That’s all we could do then, it seems, try to look forward with hope instead of fear. It’s all been so complex since then.
If I could look into the future, would I? I’m curious, so I’d probably want a glimpse or two, and then regret it. Linda mentioned divination before giving this prompt. I’m not a believer in such things, but I do get anxious about the lack of control I’ve always felt - and we all have all the time - over what’s to come next. When I had deep feelings ten and a half years ago for someone, despite my scepticism, I looked up tarot readings about what could happen, just to try to resign myself and talk myself out of nothing ever happening because it couldn’t and shouldn’t, and this was heartbreaking. Then it did happen. And happened for a little over nine years. And it was heartbreaking.
It’s Halloween as we write together. I love these hours when I can attend them. I love writing alone, but with other people writing alone. It’s lovely and joyful and comforting and hopeful. What we are producing, will produce, what will come of it, is so palpable during this hours when we’re somewhat accountable to each other. I smile as I write, contented in doing something I love. Something that helps. Something that feels nice. Something that might get read by others, in the future. So I see a little in the future. I see some of you who I know read these wee scribbles of mine a few weeks after I’ve typed them. I don’t need divination or tarot at all. I just need to keep writing.
And so looking ahead to November. We’re well into it when you’ll see this, but for this time traveller it’s still October. My fortieth circuit around Sol will come to an end, and I will be firmly in what might be my second half of a life if we go roughly by life expectancy. Can I get forty more years out of this body? Would I want to? Let’s give it a go, sure.
And the manuscript - will I finish it? Will it ever finish? I’ll tell you what, it’ll certainly end. I learned that when doing a PhD. The work never finishes, but it has to stop.
With thanks to
for such insightful prompts, as always.