it’s strange to feel i can’t write any more
all these unfinished entries
these beginnings of words to fill this space
that seem to peter out to nothing
to what’s the point
to it’ll make no difference anyway
this unusual activity
this writing words on an empty page
sustained me so long.
and now perhaps it’s gone
and yet without it who am i?
my daughter katie wrote this years ago
before the world got to her
and made her sad
i loved it because when i was young
i so rarely felt this way
my childhood stolen by deep fear and shame
so i typed it out and stuck it on my microwave
next to dear david hume
and now
i write it out again
to see if it can help me speak.
or maybe it’s the fear that’s tightening up my body
that makes it so painful to sit and write
that in useless labour makes my muscles knit themselves
and leave my back so badly aching.
last week my singing teacher pointed out a thing
a small tilt of the head when reaching for a high note
and she pointed out with models and with diagrams
how this restricted the flow of air
and prevented access
to the amazing echo chambers within the skull.
i undid the tilt
and the note sang out strong and clear and true.
i cried.
i caught a glimpse of wasted years
of frustration and of grief and songs unsung
and pain at the long long silence of my voice.
and now i ask:
am i afraid of death’s long silence
or afraid of the power of my singing voice?
Thank you for all your kind messages about my portrait of Susie.
They touched me deeply…
I’ve been drafting various newsletter posts since, but not being able finish any.
hence what I post today…
Grateful, as ever, for your support.
Oh Jo. I'm not surprised to hear writing has...paused. It won't have ended. You know. You know,
But Olly and the immediacy of his early loss' visceral link to thoughts of Susie - and then that utterly beautiful substack you just wrote about Susie - will all have exhausted you and wrung you dry. We are still in winter and its so isolating. Sunshine and warmth yet to come. So I raise a glsss to life and to your words and you.
Jo, things are NOT going to change for the better. We are in a phase of inexorable decline, especially in politics which is where decisions to change or muddle on are made, or not made. These are dark days in what is now a failed state Creative people with a vision, like you, will have to adapt to that reality and see what light they see and what improvements they can make in life, their life and that of others. You must return to making theatre.