1 min read

An Inconsequential Life

I'm in Isla Mujeres and it slipped my mind to send this newsletter yesterday!

Yes, I planned to write during my week in paradise and did not. I may need to admit that I'm just not a vacation writer lol.

I've been thinking about how as a nonfic writer, being truly honest in your writing can be frightening and how intensely we worry – I worry – about offending or stumbling, publicly into a "you don't know what you don't know" type of scenario. I want to write words, and even more than that, live a life free of conflict, without consequence.

And I've found myself in situations this year, where, despite my best efforts, that has not been possible. I obsessively returned to the events in my mind and in conversations with friends, attempting to pinpoint my missteps. But maybe it would have been less time consuming, and more sanity saving, if I would just, finally, admit it's not possible to live a life free of consequence and discomfort.

What would an inconsequential life even look like? It reminds me of that episode of "The Good Place" where the guy goes on a shroom trip or something figures out how the point system to go to heaven or hell works and spends his entire life attempting to only do good and in the most extreme way possible. He ends up not having much of a life.

What life am I leaving unlived for fear of consequence?

Enjoying these posts? Subscribe for more