A Manifesto

"The choosing is all we've got." -George Saunders, A Swim in the Pond in the Rain

BB got a new bathrobe.

I’m still on my world-building kick because I’m trying to figure out what I want to share with you about my creative life. So, I think I need a manifesto. I mean — Kevin Costner had a field of dreams; Martin Luther King had a dream, jeez, even Ted Kaczynski had a 35,000-word Unabomber Manifesto < wild.

Wait, do women write manifestos? You bet they do. Margaret Atwood created one for her dystopian novel “The Handmaid’s Tale,” where her new government, the Republic of Gilead, had a clear vision for a “better” world. What a dark-ass terror of a country Atwood built, so that we readers could see the need to value and honor our freedoms. And in that vein, Mina Loy wrote this opening to the Feminist Manifesto, which I would have titled Feminist Womanisfesto, in 1914.

The feminist movement as at present instituted is Inadequate. Women if you want to realize yourselves—you are on the eve of a devastating psychological upheaval—all your pet illusions must be unmasked—the lies of centuries have got to go—are you prepared for the Wrench—? There is no half-measure—NO scratching on the surface of the rubbish heap of tradition, will bring about Reform, the only method is Absolute Demolition. 

That’s a doozy. Part of me recoils at this; maybe it’s the brainwashed part. I get what she’s driving at, though. She’s saying, “Nina, this is your life. What will you give up or leave behind to have the life of your choosing? What radical steps are you willing to take?”

Two years ago, I’d been feeling like I was an NPC in everyone else’s life AND my own —the lady washing dishes, the taxicab driver, the mother, the cook, the lady who spins in circles talking to herself —and I thought I might dissolve into the ether of everyone else’s dreams. Oh, how depressing. Sounds like time for a new world, doesn’t it? Thus, my deep dive into claiming the word writer as my own.

Manifestos are visions or foundations for new worlds.

I’ve always written and created, likely as a way to concretize my existence—poetry, emails, grocery lists, doodles, fiction, essays, cringe-worthy diary entries, ridiculous text messages, memes.

Writing centers me; It anchors my sense of self and lengthens my attention span. Best of all, my devotion to it gives me a sense of agency and somehow, reminds me that my perspective has value in the world.

I write to remind myself that I don’t have to be who I was yesterday, or this morning. I can reinvent myself, even in my small Maine town, even in my family, even in my own eyes.

I will recognize that to become new, I have to give up my former vision of myself. My house may be messy. I might eat the last cookie. I might lock myself in my office and snarl when interrupted. I might be ugly. I might be beautiful. I reserve the rights to all of these, so that in this new writing world, I can promise to be my authentic self, write thoughtful essays, and perform cringe-worthy navel-gazing. Beautiful sentences and hasty ones < Sentences that aren’t even sentences. Above all, in this womanifesto, I promise to share the questionable grammar and disjointed, yet original thoughts and images of a dyslexic writer and artist.

-n