A Storm is Coming

The Main Newsletter

Hello and Welcome to Sitting in Silence, the newsletter about craft, writing, worry, and joy. Can you guess which one we’re talking about today?

I’m from the Gulf Coast, Southeast Louisiana, New Orleans East to be precise. New Orleans East is a little known area outside of my hometown, but you may have seen it in scenes on HBO’s hit show Treme. Perhaps you read Sarah Broom’s prize winning The Yellow House, which is about the author’s family home in the neighborhood.

Home is destiny. People raised in a desert tend to live a certain kind of life. Those of snow-covered ranges another. Seaside communities still another.

My home is in swampland. All the waters of the highlands drain down to us and eventually to the seas, gulfs and oceans. This makes for an inherently chaotic life, I think.

I’m not being melodramatic. Go turn on your sink faucet. Watch the water flow. Specifically, stare at that wild spur of water just as it takes that ninety degree turn to disappear into the black of the drain. That funnel effect? Down here we live inside of that.

I’ve written plenty over the years about my hometown. I’ve waxed poetic about the gentrification of my neighborhood. Our politics. Our food. I’ve written less about the defining event of our lifetime. Hurricane Katrina. I haven’t been ready to yet. It’s been 19 years and that era still feels like a burn pit.

But the storms keep coming, which makes me think about the writing life.

Most writers, if they could choose, would select a calm breezy lifestyle. Maybe they’d choose a idyllic seaside town near the Pacific. Or maybe a suburb in the heartland. Someplace with no hurricanes, tornados, or floods.  

But most of us just live where we live. Home is home. We shape it, but it shapes us more.

Our lives are like this. The messes, stresses, and blessings of our lived experiences are a package deal. We can’t smell the rose without pricking our thumbs.

Why then do so many writers use instability and the unexpected as excuses to avoid that which they love?

Where I’m from a storm is always coming. This was true before I became a writer, and it remains true. The storms came and went. The storms come and go. Usually, me and my loved ones were unharmed. Sometimes we lose everything.

But if we are to call ourselves writers, we should understand what this means.

Most of us have always loved the written word. Occasionally, we’ve even written. Regardless of whether we actually write, we’re always thinking of the world through the lens of story. We consider the curious ways humans, including ourselves, behave. We construct narratives, even mythologies, for people and situations we observe at a distance. We probably kept a journal as children. Named our teddy bears and action figures. Have strange ideas that only make sense to us.

The pressure drops as a storm approaches. The ground animals seek high ground. Birds fly off. They continue doing their animally business. Pawing at grass. Beating wing against wind.

Not all storms are natural. Some are situational. Psychosexual. Economic. Just when we think our lives are safe and pat, another tragedy strikes. Or maybe a comedy of errors. Perhaps someone you love dies or maybe you slip and break your leg at a skate rink after you finish skating.

But none of this should stop us. There’s always a storm a comin’. But we remain writers nonetheless.

Lastly, for my birthday on September 20, I’m giving away 20% off to all new yearly premium subscribers. That’s right. 20%! Here’s the link. Please share if you like.

https://mauricecarlosruffin.substack.com/theamericandaughters20