Loving the happy discovery of your newsletter, Leah!
Fourteen years ago I was a copy intern at a magazine in Toronto. The intern desks were the last two grey upholstered cubicles available on the eighth floor – one was among the copy team and the other was in what was known as the “Aisle of Terror,” the row where the features department, the most senior members of the team, sat. It was not as scary as it sounded, so long as you kept quiet and did your work. At first, I begrudged the antisocial spot but soon changed my mind. I learned from listening to them talk about what programs they watched, books they read, restaurants they loved, and how they divided dinner obligations with partners. And sometimes I heard them, respectfully, discuss stories they were working on with writers.
One day, the most senior of them asked the assistant editor her thoughts on a new writer she was working with for a small brief in her section.
“She’s not God’s gift to writing,” came the reply. “But you can’t put a price on keen.”
I loved reading this essay, Leah. So engaging, thought-provoking, and well-written. As for advice, the best I ever got was from my mom, who said, "Be your own best friend."
Thanks Mary! (An acupuncturist once advised me — when I told her I was trying to quit smoking— “you need to talk to yourself.” Kind of the same thing.)
I think Baldwin’s turn to fiction as a “raft of hope” was an unsolicited piece of advice that I stumbled upon (and clung to) in years when the waters were really churning.
My father has many great quotes I could share here but one that has always always seemed a good reminder of our shared predicament is, “Many is the time I have warmed myself by a fire I did not build”.
On telling an older friend that my wife and I were expecting our first child, he gave the customary congratulations and then said, "Your life will never be the same." I asked him if that was good or bad and he said, "I don't know. But your life will never be the same."
Someone once said to me, you can’t cross a bridge once you burn it”.
That's true. Having said that, you can warm yourself in in the glow and possibly even toast a perfect marshmallow. x
My Dad told me when I was very young that people may not remember what you did or said but they will always remember how you made them feel.
Devastatingly true ❤️
Condemning others merely condemns oneself.
Loving the happy discovery of your newsletter, Leah!
Fourteen years ago I was a copy intern at a magazine in Toronto. The intern desks were the last two grey upholstered cubicles available on the eighth floor – one was among the copy team and the other was in what was known as the “Aisle of Terror,” the row where the features department, the most senior members of the team, sat. It was not as scary as it sounded, so long as you kept quiet and did your work. At first, I begrudged the antisocial spot but soon changed my mind. I learned from listening to them talk about what programs they watched, books they read, restaurants they loved, and how they divided dinner obligations with partners. And sometimes I heard them, respectfully, discuss stories they were working on with writers.
One day, the most senior of them asked the assistant editor her thoughts on a new writer she was working with for a small brief in her section.
“She’s not God’s gift to writing,” came the reply. “But you can’t put a price on keen.”
hahahaha! I love that. (talking about ME no doubt!) thanks for sharing.
I loved reading this essay, Leah. So engaging, thought-provoking, and well-written. As for advice, the best I ever got was from my mom, who said, "Be your own best friend."
Thanks Mary! (An acupuncturist once advised me — when I told her I was trying to quit smoking— “you need to talk to yourself.” Kind of the same thing.)
I was young and complaining about people copying my style so this is what my father said:
“You should be proud that people are copying you and you are not the one copying them.”
He's right of course. But he should have added, 'You need to figure out a way to monetise that.'
Sadly, he was least interested in money (a writer with head in the clouds) and my mother earned for all of us.
I think Baldwin’s turn to fiction as a “raft of hope” was an unsolicited piece of advice that I stumbled upon (and clung to) in years when the waters were really churning.
My father has many great quotes I could share here but one that has always always seemed a good reminder of our shared predicament is, “Many is the time I have warmed myself by a fire I did not build”.
On telling an older friend that my wife and I were expecting our first child, he gave the customary congratulations and then said, "Your life will never be the same." I asked him if that was good or bad and he said, "I don't know. But your life will never be the same."
That’s the truth. There really isn’t any good advice for people on the verge of parenthood.