An Update on the New Year

I think as a writer there is a lasting tension between the things you want to be on the record for as having said, and the things that might better reach your readers because they are said differently.

I notice a tendency for my writing to drift towards these heavier, micro-essay style letters by the time I’ve fleshed out an idea and built a cohesive narrative around it.

I’ll admit that sometimes this desire to be thorough stems in part from an understanding that one day my writing may be forced to hold up under the scrutiny of my peers, or betray me altogether.

But this kind of writing sort of betrays the spirit of wayfinding altogether. It becomes more about convincing the reader of something or offering up and defending some idea—both of which have their own time and place—but at the expense of my initial inspiration for writing at all: to help someone on their own adventure by sharing bits of mine.

I want to get back to that initial spirit in my writing. Rather than write to defend myself against critics that don’t yet exist, I want to write for the few people that I genuinely can help and reach, with what little words I can offer.

Because the truth is, there are plenty of people that my writing will never reach even if they are to read it. And it’s of little use to anyone to write with only those people in mind.

The New Year

With the start of the new year, I’d like to try something new and something old. A fresh take on an old idea I’ve had. I want Wayfinding to feel more like a loose collection of field notes rather than a self-aggrandizing series of micro-essays disguised as letters with the reader in mind.

Like something closer to a diary really. A place to share little insights and observations from my own life, in the moments after their conception—rather than wait for these to accrete into much larger thoughtforms.

In the past, I’ve tried to strip these insights of any ties to the initial context in which they arose for me. Meaning, if I gained an insight about life while writing a song, I’ve tried to share that insight without any specific reference to songwriting or music, in hopes of generalizing that insight and not putting off anyone who lacks interest in songwriting.

But I think this is rather impoverished and withholding now. On the one hand, I’m claiming to only be sharing lessons and insights from my own life, without any specific imperative in yours. And at the same time, I’m sure trying an awful lot to make sure these lessons and insights feel general enough to be relevant in yours.

Moving forward, I’d like to pick a lane. I am now writing for a younger me. Maybe for my kids someday. What was dad up to when he was your age? See for yourself. Here’s what I was thinking about, here’s what I was doing. Here’s what I was noticing, here’s what I was learning.

This is what it felt like to be me, all those years ago.

It was long and arduous, messy and unpaved. But it was an adventure. It was my life.

I want Wayfinding to be in memory and celebration of that life. Little breadcrumbs left over from a life well lived. A field guide. For someone much younger and smarter, braver and wiser, with all their years ahead of them to pick up where I left off and chase horizons I couldn’t see.

I think my hope is for someone else to be able to live all the life I couldn’t live in my time—and for me to be able to help them do that, by leaving behind all the notes I can on my own adventure. In the way that a parent does want their child to go on and do better than them, be better than them: I want that for you, whoever my readers are.

In that spirit, look forward to some fresh ideas hitting your inbox—lighter, closer to the moment, and dressed for the new year. A fresh take on an old idea.

Here’s to something new.

And to something old.

Cheers,

— David Kennedy