the long way round
I’m taking the long way round.
That’s what I wrote in my journal this morning as I was puzzling through a story idea. I was tempted, as often is the case, to go do some research and see how someone else may have structured something. And then I caught myself, my brain trying to take a shortcut in something that I didn’t want and I wrote:
We’re taking the long way round, love.
I’m determined to not take shortcuts unless they’re necessary. I’ve spent 8 years trying to find shortcuts when building slowly, carefully, intentionally and with devotion is the only true thing that has stayed.
Wanting to find a shortcut is not new, but I feel is extra apparent in the age of generative AI. I read somewhere that one of the (many) problems with gen AI is that it leads people to believe that the idea is the most important thing, not the execution.
The process.
I am swimming in ideas at the moment - a garden of seeds that I have planted over the past year with diligence. I slowly and painstakingly taught myself that my creativity is unlimited, that my ideas are infinite as long as I am willing to play. As long as I am willing to show up.
It would be so easy to plug these ideas into some sort of robot (whose etymology is derived from the Czech word meaning ‘forced labour’ and ‘servitude’) and ask it to write the story for me. That’s what many people are doing nowadays, with little thought to what the process is actually supposed to do.
How the process is a practice in embodiment, how it’s a practice in skill-building and muscle-making and pride. How it enlivens and ensouls the work. How navigating the landscape of your own creativity is the only thing that allows you to do it again and again.
There are things I love in life
a slow, meandering train journey
breakfast and a crossword
reading a book, curled and comfortable at the edge of a plush sofa.
a long, deep conversation with friends
a meal well-savoured, flavours exploding and textures combining, one I can remember.
None of these things are quick hits or can be manufactured. I am looking for depth and substance, and most importantly: choice.
So, I’m taking the long way round.
The trek through the forest. The long conversation over an emoji response. The confusing but satisfying process of puzzling out an idea in my plot. The devotion to honing my craft. Making space and time to sit and do nothing.
I have been considering lately how much choice I have, and how many of my ancestors never had the choice in how to live their lives. They couldn’t prioritise creativity or themselves.
It makes the effort feel even more meaningful. Especially in a world that feels like it is fighting for change, a world that feels like it is on shifting-ground and telling us that we are prioritising profit over humanity (don’t believe them all). The barrage of information feels bleak by design, trying to wear you down and keep you from creating. The thing that actually builds us up and nourishes us and inspires us.
The effort and choice to opt-out of the short-cut in creative pursuits feels soul-changingly important.
I write for my ancestors.
I take the long way on purpose.
To heal the rush in my bloodline, to heal the not enough in my lineage and to allow the women in my line who wanted to rest and create live through me.
What a gift it is: to choose.
So I choose the long way.
See you on the path.