Maybe This Will Be the Year I Finish Jane Eyre
I.
As a teenager, I would spend all my spare time cleaning and organizing my room so that I could read Into Thin Air by Jon Krakauer while listening to Wincing the Night Away by The Shins. I never finished Into Thin Air because I was always finding a new part of my room that needed cleaning and because (I can now admit) I found the book quite boring.
I was friends with a very mean girl in high school—let’s call her Sophia—who made fun of me for listening to "weird" music, which, of course, was just the most middle-of-the-road indie rock of the 2000s. Anyone with even a slight awareness of things left-of-center would have been exposed to it. I wonder if this girl, who, despite being very mean to most people, was very sweet to me, planted the seed that made me feel like I’m just so fucking weird and strange—or if everyone feels like this.
At 31 years old, I still find myself attempting, every day, to quiet my space so I can read a book in peace. It’s taken me quite a while to figure this out, but the best way to keep your space quiet is to have fewer things that bring noise into it. Who would have thought!
II.
I’ve applied to almost 30 jobs that I don’t particularly want, and I’ve been rejected from nearly all of them. Every time my email notifies me that a company with a name trying to make something serious sound somewhat silly has rejected me, I think, "Well, yeah, that makes sense." It would have been strange if they had wanted me for an interview, considering there are people in this world who have worked tirelessly to amass the skill set to do the specific thing that [insert silly-yet-serious company] is looking for.
Of course, I would care more if I wanted to do anything with my life other than be a writer. Wanting to be a writer—especially one who doesn’t write about things a ton of people care about—in 2024 feels like wanting to pursue some antiquated profession like blacksmithing or milk delivery. Earlier this year, I convinced myself I would become a nurse because everyone needs nurses, but then my mind wandered, and I started making things up. Soon, I was writing on my laptop, and any momentum toward becoming a nurse was interrupted by posting on my fucking Substack.
III.
Perhaps the most challenging, diabolical struggle of my life, aside from more pedestrian challenges, is that I want to be a professional writer. Yet I’ve positioned myself in professional spaces where creativity doesn’t exist and writing is irrelevant. These are boring, well-meaning corporate spaces designed to make the world better, though whether their net impact is positive is often inconclusive. In these spaces, I feel entirely out of place, trying to act like a normie while feeling like a freak. But when I’m in alternative, countercultural spaces, I feel like an absolute normie—incapable of fully embracing my freak.
IV.
One of my favorite places to be is the gym. I love the smell of cleaning products and the methodical way people mostly ignore each other. I love the utilitarian nature of the equipment and how everything is designed for one precise purpose.
Of course, I love the gym because I love working out. It’s the only thing that makes me feel mentally stable. The gym is also one of the best places to people-watch, especially if you go at the same time every day. You see the same people and start building stories about them in your head while trying to make your chest muscles bigger.
Loving fitness feels unwelcome in alternative spaces, even though the main reason I work out so much is that, as a bullied kid, I was small and weak and knew I’d never be able to defend myself. I don’t admit that often, but it’s true. If you feel like an outsider—which many queers, artists, and freaks do—maybe nothing solidifies your status as an outsider freak more than getting really fucking strong.
V.
I think there’s a connection between physical activity and creativity. Some of my best ideas come to me when I’m running or lifting weights, and I often stop to jot them down. I think Rebecca Solnit wrote something about this, though if I’m being honest, I find her writing to be quite dry and boring, too.
VI.
At one point this year, I thought I’d try to become an influencer—the kind of person who talks into a front-facing camera about music they like, slowly amassing a loyal following, and eventually doing man-on-the-street interviews with esoteric musicians while being praised by indie publications for their accessible, knowledgeable, and inviting "content."
I made a few videos, which I’ve since deleted, even though people generally liked them. It turns out that creating that kind of "content" takes a lot more effort than I realized, and I’m just not interested. When I stopped and asked myself why I was doing it, I realized it was mostly about wanting to be praised for my "cool" music taste—which feels more self-centered than I’m willing to be at this point in my life.
That’s not to say I think self-centeredness in this context is a bad thing. It’s probably the most effective way to break into something artful and creative these days because everyone’s scrolling on their phones, exhaustedly consuming short-form content and telling themselves they’ll look into it more later—only to forget. Our systems reward the people who do this well, but unfortunately, I’m an old soul (probably on my 10th life or something). I want to write a novel where nothing really happens.
VII.
Relieving myself of the pressure to become an influencer has opened the door to focus on my goal of becoming a novelist. I had a high school teacher who gave off undiagnosed personality disorder vibes, but she once told me I was a great writer. She said the best way for me to improve was to read more books. So, I rushed home and started reading Jane Eyre for fun. I loved it so much that I didn’t want it to end—so I never finished it.
VIII.
Maybe this will be the year I finish Jane Eyre.
IX.
I’m so grateful I don’t have the ambition to be famous. You might say, "But you want to be a novelist, don’t you?" Even the famous novelists aren’t really well-known for who they are. The details of their lives exist, but not where most people look for details. What they’re known for instead are the worlds they build and the choices they make. That’s a completely different kind of vulnerability.
Besides, I never said I want to be a well-known novelist. I just want to be one. If I write one thing that ends up on someone’s bookshelf, I’ll be fine with that. What I do outside of that one thing is what really makes me a novelist.
X.
Smartphones have ruined our lives and will inevitably lead to humanity’s destruction. If you don’t know this, you’re not paying attention.
XI.
My attention span has been obliterated by my smartphone and the constant feeling that I should consume information. I used to be much more deeply educated about things when my phone didn’t work as well as it does. But I can’t fully divorce myself from my smartphone because I want a boyfriend.