Writing as Reclamation of the Voice, the Self

A writing pep talk inspired by one of my favorite films, plus a collection of delights for February

I have been thinking about the movie, C’mon C’mon, for months.

Okay, fine, more like obsessing over it.

I am not a huge film fanatic, but I would venture to say it’s easily one of the most underrated films of the last few years. A provocative, intimate indie, it’s one of those rare movies where the storytelling is slow and fervent, the dialogue rich and real, and the characters multifaceted and believable. It feels like slow art, not frenetic entertainment. And in a world where everything seems to be moving faster and faster with the ultimate goal of holding our attention at whatever cost, this film is a true respite. It is one of those stories that leaves you sitting on the couch staring at the blank television screen because you can’t possibly speak for fear of ruining the moment.

C’mon C’mon tells the story of Johnny (Joaquin Phoenix), a radio producer who embarks on a cross-country trip to interview children on how they view the world and what they expect of the future. In the middle of this creative endeavor, Johnny drops everything when his estranged sister Viv (Gaby Hoffmann) calls and asks him to look after her quirky, energetic son Jesse (Woody Norman) so she can tend to her mentally ill husband six hours away.

The movie explores themes of family complexity, caretaking, mental illness, and the unexpected ways children deeply move us, weaving together thread upon thread of intimacy, drama, wisdom, and nuance. Perhaps the most striking parts of the entire film are the scenes in which Johnny reads aloud books he finds in Viv’s house while caring for Jesse.

Among the included books are The Wonderful Wizard of Oz by L. Frank Baum, Star Child by Claire A. Nivola¹, Mothers: An Essay On Love And Cruelty by Jacqueline Rose², and An Incomplete List Of What The Cameraperson Enables by documentarian Kirsten Johnson.

While all of the pieces are incredibly moving, it is Johnson’s list that makes me gasp out loud during the movie. In it, she describes what a cameraperson offers the subject being filmed:

-A chance to speak of things they have never spoken of and hence say things they never expected to say

-The chance to see him or herself as a subject (worthy of time and attention)

-The chance to imagine different outcomes

-The creation of an image of self, the distribution of which one cannot control on a global scale in perpetuity

-The opportunity to see oneself from a different perspective

When Johnny reads these words, I grab the remote and skip backwards through his lines to listen to them again. It seems to me that Johnson’s words are not only true for filmmakers, but for writers, painters, musicians, performers, and creatives of all kinds.

For writers, in particular, how often do we find ourselves writing things that we have never spoken out loud? How often do we scrawl something on paper and read it back to ourselves, surprised to find that it’s one of the truest things we’ve ever written? Or perhaps that we’ve always known it on some deep, cellular level but now it’s integrated more fully in our minds? How often do we sit with ourselves until we accept our own stories as worthy of our time and attention?

Maybe most importantly, how often do we return to the page because it offers us a kind of healing—the chance to reclaim our sense of self—not a polished, heroic, egocentric self, but the real, broken, nuanced, intimate self?

And isn’t this the point? To say:

Look, I am real.

Look, I exist.

If I put myself down on the page, I make myself un-erasable.

If I make myself un-erasable, I give the reader permission to exist in this way, too.

Writing as the reclamation of the self.

Writing as healing. Writing as inviting others into this healing.

And then we let it all go, into the world, in perpetuity.

That’s the kind of art I want to make.

Keep writing, friends.

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Onto this month’s delights!

Currently reading (or recently finished): It Was An Ugly Couch Anyway, one of James Crews’ earlier poetry anthologies Healing the Divide,

Maggie Smith

’s new picture book My Thoughts Have Wings, Jesus and John Wayne, Somebody’s Daughter, and

Jeannine Ouellette

’s memoir The Part That Burns.

A few things I’ve been loving lately: I have a mild obsession with soft, boxy/cropped-ish sweatshirts so obviously I grabbed this one on sale (pairs well with high-waisted sweats or leggings, if you’re into that). These earrings are also fun and go with basically everything. And for Valentine’s Day, Joe gave me this Poetry Magazine subscription which has been an absolute delight.

Some things the kids have been loving lately: this scooter that is 100 bajillion times cheaper than competitors (and just as good IMO), these ridiculous (albeit, hilarious) Jack beginning readers by Mac Barnett and Greg Pizzoli³, this drawing book for younger kids, and our latest investment—the Nugget (yes, we finally caved and now we understand what all the fuss is about).

Other favorites this month include Chutes & Ladders, War, Magic Tree House Audiobooks, kefir popsicle bubble baths on sick days, and making giant Magnatile structures.

Here is the My-Family-Has-Been-Sick-Forever version of what we ate this month: Egg and avocado toast when I do not want to cook and/or nobody is very hungry, this elderberry tea with lots and lots of honey, and allll the kefir / Pedialyte pops / frozen peas / applesauce pouches.

Otherwise, this month we ate either: 1. My favorite kale salad on repeat (I add chicken and quinoa) or 2. Straight comfort food, like Better Broccoli Casserole and Creamy Roasted Tomato Soup and grilled cheese.

Watching + Listening: Joe and I watched so many good movies this month—C’mon C’mon (had to re-watch it for the hundredth time), Ladybird, and Little Women (the 2019 version). What can I say—we are clearly in our Greta Gerwig era.

After Joni Mitchell’s Grammy’s performance,

Sari Botton

shared this video of her singing Both Sides Now in 1969 and it made me so deliriously happy. I also enjoyed Krista Tippett’s episode with Clint Smith and this one with Kate Bowler, this conversation with Dr. Becky on mom rage, and Dan Levy’s thoughts on how nobody knows what they’re doing.

Some good writing I’ve read online lately:

Shauna Niequist

’s “Do It Like It’s Part of the Dance”,

Ashlee Gadd

’s “This Ship Isn’t Going Down Without a Fight”,

Katie Blackburn

’s “The Tire Shop”, and

Shawn Smucker

’s “On the Enjoyment of Slow Work”.

ICYMI: I wrote this piece, “Would You Like A Grief Cookie?”, on love as containment and making something with our grief. AND Part-Time Poets’ tenth issue comes out tomorrow, where I try my hand at an erasure poem.

That’s it, friends!

Tell me—what is bringing you delight, these days?

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Photo from Daily Sabah (A24 films by AP)

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1. This stunning children’s picture book was originally published in 2014 and then, sadly, went out-of-print. After C’mon C’mon was released in 2021, A24 Films brought the book back to life with this special edition. (Did I also check out the book from my local library and read it to my children and cry just like Johnny did in the movie? Yes, yes I did.)

2. An illuminating social commentary on contemporary motherhood, written by feminist and psychoanalyst Jacqueline Rose. I read through this book, perusing through some of the more academic parts, and did really enjoy it although some pieces were a bit off-the-wall for me.

3. This is what Charlotte Mason homeschool mothers call “twaddle”, but I do not believe in twaddle, only reading for enjoyment. So here we are.