I wonder if part of it is that writers and other artists share more of ourselves, through our work, than we normally would in making friendships. We therefore can't have the kind of superficial connections that are possible when one doesn't reveal one's full self and it's that much harder to find our people because the bar is set so high. But when we do, well, that person is as special as Ann Patchett <3
Once upon a time there was a poetry workshop at Hopkins U. and I belonged to it for 15 years....every Tuesday night was joy. There were about 15 people in it and a quiet, brilliant, friendly teacher. We taught us forms. She encouraged us. I ended up winning competitions, and after I won an important award, she took me out to a 3-hour coffee and told me I was the Real Deal....that I should PLEASE devote more of myself to writing. Did I follow her instructions? No. Now it's 12 years later and I'm trying to start again. I hope I can.
This resonated so hard—especially the idea that writers are so busy spiraling, ruminating, and possibly retraumatizing ourselves (???🥲🥲🥲???), that maybe we’re just not wired to enjoy simple pleasures? That’s an ongoing struggle for me, and one it helps to find solidarity in! Thank you for writing this, Brittany!
I had a lovely community of poets at Johns Hopkins University. It hung together for 15 years. Alas, the teacher retired, all of us are aging...and the community has vanished. JHU doesn't offer this class anymore. I am on a search for such a community.
Hello, I’m finding some friendships on Substack ( new but have potential), some friendly but not deep friendships in a creative writing group. A friend with whom I worked, I have discovered, is also a poet. We’ve always had original and authentic conversations but they are my deepest so far.
Alright — I’ve just finished reading now. This is, of course, the first newsletter I open once the baby falls asleep and my blackout Substack reading starts.
Thank you for such a thoughtful piece, Brittany. Literary friendships are such a curious thought. Just recently, I started a writer’s instagram, and for the first time, I’ve accidentally stumbled into a joyful, pure friendships with another writer. I think as a new mom who often feels isolated from the world, I want so desperately to connect with other women that when I see their creations, I’m fascinated by them and genuinely want to throw roses and happy tears up to them onstage. This one friend in particular (also a new mom) and I send paragraphs and paragraphs back and forth. I’ve never felt so understood in my roles as a creative and a creative mother.
Excellent. This is such an interesting topic and brilliantly explored here, Brittany. We are fickle, dramatic and sensitive creatures, yet if we weren’t this way, our respective works would certainly suffer, I’m sure. I wonder and philosophize in my head sometimes on if jealousy can push certain people creatively? I dunno, might have to write a weird lil short story about it to actually figure it out 😂
SIN CERE - it's Latin for without wax, a marketer's promise to consumers that s/he sold fresh fruit vs rotting fruit with a wax coating.
One way to test if a friendship is authentic is to ask a small favor, a doable favor that's not time-consuming, a favor that shows this individual has a willingness to help you in your writing career.
So many writer colleagues have failed this test, revealing what is at their core.
I wonder if part of it is that writers and other artists share more of ourselves, through our work, than we normally would in making friendships. We therefore can't have the kind of superficial connections that are possible when one doesn't reveal one's full self and it's that much harder to find our people because the bar is set so high. But when we do, well, that person is as special as Ann Patchett <3
I really enjoyed this piece. Thanks
Brittany's essay strike a chord. Friendship, a form of love, is essential.
Without it, we drift anonymously on a sea of doubt.
So completely lovely. Thank you.
Once upon a time there was a poetry workshop at Hopkins U. and I belonged to it for 15 years....every Tuesday night was joy. There were about 15 people in it and a quiet, brilliant, friendly teacher. We taught us forms. She encouraged us. I ended up winning competitions, and after I won an important award, she took me out to a 3-hour coffee and told me I was the Real Deal....that I should PLEASE devote more of myself to writing. Did I follow her instructions? No. Now it's 12 years later and I'm trying to start again. I hope I can.
Anything Write or Die, Kailey, or Brittany goes straight to the top of my newsletter TBR. OH YEAH BABY, TREAT YOURSELF!
why is friendship so hard. Ugh.
yes yes yes
This resonated so hard—especially the idea that writers are so busy spiraling, ruminating, and possibly retraumatizing ourselves (???🥲🥲🥲???), that maybe we’re just not wired to enjoy simple pleasures? That’s an ongoing struggle for me, and one it helps to find solidarity in! Thank you for writing this, Brittany!
Such tenderness in the story of Dee <3
I had a lovely community of poets at Johns Hopkins University. It hung together for 15 years. Alas, the teacher retired, all of us are aging...and the community has vanished. JHU doesn't offer this class anymore. I am on a search for such a community.
Hello, I’m finding some friendships on Substack ( new but have potential), some friendly but not deep friendships in a creative writing group. A friend with whom I worked, I have discovered, is also a poet. We’ve always had original and authentic conversations but they are my deepest so far.
Alright — I’ve just finished reading now. This is, of course, the first newsletter I open once the baby falls asleep and my blackout Substack reading starts.
Thank you for such a thoughtful piece, Brittany. Literary friendships are such a curious thought. Just recently, I started a writer’s instagram, and for the first time, I’ve accidentally stumbled into a joyful, pure friendships with another writer. I think as a new mom who often feels isolated from the world, I want so desperately to connect with other women that when I see their creations, I’m fascinated by them and genuinely want to throw roses and happy tears up to them onstage. This one friend in particular (also a new mom) and I send paragraphs and paragraphs back and forth. I’ve never felt so understood in my roles as a creative and a creative mother.
Excellent. This is such an interesting topic and brilliantly explored here, Brittany. We are fickle, dramatic and sensitive creatures, yet if we weren’t this way, our respective works would certainly suffer, I’m sure. I wonder and philosophize in my head sometimes on if jealousy can push certain people creatively? I dunno, might have to write a weird lil short story about it to actually figure it out 😂
SIN CERE - it's Latin for without wax, a marketer's promise to consumers that s/he sold fresh fruit vs rotting fruit with a wax coating.
One way to test if a friendship is authentic is to ask a small favor, a doable favor that's not time-consuming, a favor that shows this individual has a willingness to help you in your writing career.
So many writer colleagues have failed this test, revealing what is at their core.