I am interested in inspiring, not fluff. In truth, not bullsh*t. I am interested in the way certain words string together in a seemingly impossible way to create a disarming sentence. The kind that makes you sit down and give pause.
I am interested in the fantastical, as long as it is fantastic, and in poetry and science alike. I am interested in science that reads like poetry, or rather, finding the poetry in it. In every molecule. In every discovery. I am interested in history, even if it’s recreated for the reader’s pleasure, as long as it is written well enough that you slip into belief and stay there for the duration.
I am interested in the quiet in back of words, in what is hidden behind what is said, the quiet stubbornness of the details. I am interested in imagination, not in regurgitation. I am interested in freshness of voice and “Holy Hell, that is risky. But it works” kind of stuff.
I am interested in originality. In the bold rather than same old. I am interested in poetry and fiction and stories of the heart, not in fingers counting ways I can lose 5 pounds. I am interested in anything that moves me, challenges me, breaks me. Not in anything that patronizes, manipulates, insults. I am interested in unique and brave, not mimicry and safety. I am interested in getting lost in words, ending up in Asia or Bali.
I am interested in things that make me recognize myself or parts of myself and all of humankind at once with the sleight of a hand, with a paragraph, with a metaphor, with skilled use of adverbs. Whatever it takes, I just want to be taken there.
I am interested in literature, but also in things unable to be categorized. I am interested in zero self-consciousness. I am not interested in anything so concerned with itself that it constructs a false self to sell. I am interested in risk-taking. I am interested in what speaks for itself; words so right that nothing needs to be done except nod and keep reading.
This is what I am interested in as a reader, and, as a writer.
I do not care for the nonsense, until it is beautiful nonsense. I don’t want the preachy or overly sentimental or the try-too-hards. I want what is pure creation or pure hard work or pure inspiration, just not what is pure contrivance.
I want to be touched and shook and grabbed.
I don’t want lists unless they make me a better human. Even then, they ought to be distinct, and, at the very least, funny as Hell.
I don’t need a lot. Or maybe I do.
Maybe I want everything.
I want the writer to have given me everything.
As the writer, I want to give everything.
I want words that send me to the moon.
I want what we all want, really.
To be shown what beauty is. What love is. What inspiration is. What the power of language and words can do.”
Want a chance to attend my nest retreat free? Follow me on Instagram at @jenpastiloff. All details here.
Jennifer, your words are beautiful, inspiring and RAW.
That’s what I’m interested in, writing that is raw and authentic. Writing that comes straight from soul to page with no time to freshen up.
Thank you for your words 🙂
Reblogged this on Candid Concourse and commented:
The sum of all parts!
My new checklist 🙂 thank you for such an inspiring post Jennifer!
love this! You inspired me to come up with a few things I am most interested in:
I am interested in the way two people look at each other when they think no one else is watching. I am interested in the language between a parent and a child, in that space between communication, left open for interpretation. I am interested in the looks of people having conversations in their cars in my rearview mirror, conversations with their gestures and facial expressions when I can’t hear the words, and think I know what they must be saying, but I don’t.
I am interested in teeny tiny petals of flowers I’ve walked past or on top of a thousand times and only noticed for the first time today. I am interested in things that are soft, in running my hand along leaves that feel soft to the touch, in sentences whose meaning is soft around the edges. That moment when body softens into a yoga pose, when face softens into empathy, into forgiveness, into grace.
I am interested in those impossible moments when everything feels about to break apart, but then it doesn’t. I am interested in the putting it all back together moments. Interested in the moments of realizing we are all one, we are all the same, life is hard, life is beautiful moments.
I am interested in honesty, mundane, exciting, epiphanic honesty. Don’t lie to me. Even if it isn’t very pretty, even if it hurts, even if it doesn’t matter, I want your honesty. Even if it’s covered in silver or in silt, I want your honesty. Even if it’s buried so deep behind frills, and color, and almost blinding light, as long as it’s there, somewhere.
I am interested in what other people find fascinating, even if it sounds dull to me. I am interested in that tone their voice takes on, that glint in their eye, that giddiness behind each word they breathe. I am interested in others’ passions. In passion itself, in its very idea, its inception, and especially the trail it makes to something magnificent. I am especially interested in those quietly magnificent ideas, experiences, developments in a soul, in a life, thrown out into the world. That risk of throwing, opening, unfolding your life so that everyone can see –can judge, can enjoy, can relish, can say, “Yes, that’s me too!”
I love this statement…especially the part about “science that reads like poetry” and finding poetry in every molecule…Beautiful!