THE ISOLATION JOURNALS - DAY 20 - LET'S BE FRANK

Today’s prompt:

Look back on the past few weeks and consider what has felt momentous for you. What have you let go of, surrendered, only to learn from? Has anything felt fated, or fallen into place? Write from the depths of that knowing. Of trusting the signs. Explain what you’ve witnessed in yourself. What tiny revolution have you faced?

Let’s Be Frank

There’s a scene in Little Women in which Dr. Bhaer, the erudite German professor and unlikely love interest, tells Jo March, the headstrong protagonist and aspiring writer, that the “sensational” pieces she has written are not worthy of her – that they are, in a word, crap. Understandably, this puts a bit of a damper on their budding romantic relationship.

I recently had my own Dr. Bhaer moment (without the romantic component). My dear friend – let’s call him Frank – had read the advance reader copy of my debut novel and was effusive about its impending publication. He was not so effusive, however, about its content.

“You’ve led such a rich life,” he said. “Your years as a working mom. Your cancer struggles. Your brother’s death. Your immigrant story. I don’t feel like this book does justice to those experiences.”

Like Jo March, my initial reaction was somewhat defensive. “It’s not intended to do justice to my life experiences,” I said. “It’s a piece of commercial fiction. A domestic thriller. Not a memoir.”

“I get that,” Frank said. “I’m just saying: I think you can do more.”

Like Dr. Bhaer, Frank wasn’t trying to be cruel; he was trying to be honest. And his intentions weren’t to criticize but rather to inspire. He had faith in my ability to tell a story that would move people deeply, if only I had the courage to write it.

Fast forward a few months to the COVID-19 crisis. The first prompt for the Isolation Journals shows up in my in-box. It’s a bit of a softball: write a letter to someone you know. It would be easy to write something light, something entertaining. Instead, I decide to go deep, to put it all on the line.

I write about my years as a working mom. My cancer struggles. And my brother’s death. I decide to save my immigrant story for a future journal entry. After all, I’ve got 29 more days to go.

After I finish drafting that first entry, I spend a long time staring at the “save and publish” button. My author website and Facebook account are public. Anyone can read them – my family and friends, my co-workers, complete strangers. Do I really want to bare my soul to them? Hearing Frank’s voice in my head, I take a deep breath and press the button.

I’m blown away by the reaction to my first entry. People seem genuinely touched. By revealing my most personal details, I’ve somehow tapped into the universal.

I have less trouble pressing “publish” after that first day, and most of my journal entries continue to go deep. I explore the themes Frank mentioned in our awkward Dr. Bhaer conversation. Serious stuff. Death. Sacrifice. Loneliness. But a few of my journal entries are lighter – casual one-offs that make me laugh even while I’m writing them. Mary Tyler Moore and her sassy hat. Frickin’ Greg Wise and his twinkling eyes. Ivanka Trump at the bottom of a TJ’s bag.

Today’s prompt talks about “trusting the signs.” What could be a clearer sign than a thumbs up on Facebook? By that standard, the clear popular winner in the Isolation Journals (AH Kim Edition) – with a record-setting 31 likes on Facebook! – is my review of the Hotel San Francisco. It’s perhaps the fluffiest of my fluff pieces.

I recognize that popular success is not true success. In the end, it doesn’t matter how many “thumbs up” a piece receives but, rather, how many hearts it touches. I have faith that my journal entries that garnered just 3 or 4 reactions on Facebook actually touched many more people than that.

That said, I also know that 31 “thumbs up” is more than three times the number of reactions for any other of my Isolation Journal posts. I know that, in these difficult times, people want to be distracted, comforted, and yes, amused. And so I’ve resolved to stop listening to my inner (and outer) critic and, instead, to write content that feeds my soul, conveys a message, or simply makes me laugh.

Frankly, and with all due respect to Dr. Bhaer, there is no such thing as “worthy” or “not worthy” when it comes to reading or writing. Sometimes – especially these days – it’s not about whether you can do more.

It’s about whether you can do what feels right for you.