As a spry 51-year-old, I’m too young (or not old enough) to remember Ernesto “Che” Guevara. He was killed in Bolivia in 1967—incidentally, not so far away from the city where my wife would go on to live 30 years later via an exchange program. (I’m sure there is no connection … )
But I remember all the books, posters, movies … etcetera. Even the song.
And I’ve always been fascinated with the man, though. Even if he was callous, misguided, and kind of an asshole to his family. I guess it’s his “can-do attitude” (which eventually got him killed, trying to start a revolution in Bolivia with like 15 soldiers). Or maybe it’s my morbid fascination with tragic anti-heroes. Or… who knows.
But the guerrilla concept is interesting. And I think it encapsulates how I got writing again after having been in a deep, dark hole for a while (see previous posts).
What is a guerrilla fighter capable of? What are their goals and means? Well, to begin with the means: not much. They don’t need to be as decrepit as the last guerrilla band Che led, but generally, they’re able to do without much of anything—without the many resources of a regular army (I realize in some developing countries this distinction has become a bit blurred, but that’s a whole other topic).
Their goal is to kill the enemy by a thousand cuts, not a big, bombastic confrontation.
And lastly, they are capable of sustaining this kind of fight for as long as it takes in many cases. Why? Because they have a different attitude toward fighting. They don’t need resolutions or big set-piece battles; they just need to… do it. To go on. One sting at a time. And the more they do that, the more they keep up their spirits, I believe, or at least that’s the general idea. Action keeps you in the game, even if it is small potatoes.
In other words, if I should transfer this somewhat clunky analogy to my little situation: I’ve started writing again, and it feels good. I’ve abandoned the grand ambitions for now and embraced a new philosophy—tadah: guerrilla writing.
Just like guerrilla fighters in an underground resistance, I’m fighting a battle against the powerful regime of my own expectations. I’ve had to let go of the idea that I need to write something big, that I need to write to market, and then I need to polish it endlessly.
This has been a process of surrender. I had to give up on the novel, on the idea of a series, on writing to market trends, and on the “perfect book.” It’s high time I accepted that those things just don’t work for me right now. Probably never will.
But like I said, I am… writing again. In the last month, I’ve produced a number of small pieces, mostly around 1,000 to 1,500 words. They are rough, unpolished, and written through dictation on the bus and then cleaned up afterward, but they are tangible progress. I’ve even put a bunch of them up on my blog, and maybe one day they’ll find their way into a printed collection.
So, what does this “guerrilla writing” look like in practice? Let me elaborate a little further and make it more concrete.
It means keeping it small, first of all. Instead of tackling a novel, I’m focusing on flash fiction and short pieces. These are manageable and provide a sense of accomplishment in a short amount of time.
It means making it about self-expression. I’ve decided that if I want to write about “my” family in the 1960s one day and a different era the next, I will. The key is that the writing has to give me energy, not drain it. In a life that is often stressful, my writing must be a source of support. This seems to be the only way I can get anything done. Sounds like a no-brainer, but believe me, I’ve spent years trying to get to a point where I could actually let go and just do this. Just write and don’t give a shit.
It also means creating a resilient writing system. Like I mentioned, I dictate drafts while commuting. This is kind of the only time I really have to myself where I can’t dive into one of the truckload of chores that I also have to attend to. I then use a tool like Google’s AI Studio to help with the cleanup of grammar and punctuation.
I’m also training myself to just write a sentence before I reach for my phone to check something. I try to write a single sentence. It’s a simple but effective way to keep the momentum going. I’ve tried this many times, but I’ve never felt ready to implement it as I do now. I guess I had to fall really hard again before I actually knew how to implement it.
OK, but what about the audience? I’ve been writing for 15 years trying to reach one, and I haven’t really reached any audience yet. I figure the priority is: First, I write for myself. Second, every week I try to reach out to you, my readers. I have my print book now, and I can see if anyone wants to read that and maybe go to my website. During the years that will come, there will be a trickle of people there. Maybe it will go well one day; maybe it won’t. Third, of course, if I could make some money at some point due to those fortunate developments, that would be nice, but if I don’t, that doesn’t matter either.
The value of self-expression has become incredibly precious to me, especially as I will likely be a caregiver for my son for the rest of my life. To have something that is purely mine, that isn’t about my role as a caregiver, is a lifeline. I can’t fully describe it, but it has become crystal clear to me that this is what it’s all about. What matters is that it seems to be that juice – and not any ambitions – that keep me plodding through the wilderness, directing the tiny but regular operation against the enemy!
So I guess I’m kind of a guerrilla of the self. And it sounds ludicrous, I know. But if it works for me – what the hell, right?
And yeah, the title is pure effin clickbait, but I guess that’s kinda guerilla-like, too? 😉
*
New stories …
So here’s a selection of what I have been writing since last … feel free to check out anything that resonates with you (and let me know what you think!)
Pieces of Peace
Small flash and vignette stories about healing of trauma, of familial relations and redemption.
I’ve picked up on this series recently and added three new installments about Carrie and her father going to Buenos Aires and then the Falklands in 2016, to make up with the man who shot her father back in 1982. And to make up with their own past.
*
Special needs families and their needs
These are three new pieces about Jon and Carrie struggling to be a family over in Yuma 2017-ish — and struggling to keep their autistic son part of that family.
Also slices of life, some sour, some (bitter)-sweet …
A story about how to deal with the constant overwhelm … kind of.
A story about trying to escape life as a parent to a very special child … and where that might lead.
And one about cleaning up your attic, and why it can be quite difficult. Especially, if like Carrie, you have held on to some things for far too long …
*
“Under the Cobblestones, the Beach … “
Lastly, I have been fiddling with flash fiction that eventually will go into my lost “novel” about Deborah in Paris in 1968. (Expect it to be more of a composite novel, or anthology of linked short stories. )
Here are a few attempts which are mostly exploratory pieces about the characters, but I kind of like the mood and vibe. It gives me hope this project can some day be finished in some form or other …
*
Photo for this post: Pxsphere
*
Share a Thought