A Written Life
because the alphabet's personal
writer | reader | freelancer | laugher jesakalong.com
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“Would I have carried myself with the same swagger, or faced adversity with such feminine resolve, without Albertine as my...
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Wise words from Dolly Parton
Source: www.facebook.com/netaporter
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“Knowing how to be solitary is central to the art of loving. When we can be alone, we can be with others without using them as an escape.”
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5 posts tagged cheryl strayed
Some amazing advice.
I fucking love this.
Cheryl Strayed describes this as “the harshest” Dear Sugar column she’s written and she’s also included her newest book Tiny Beautiful Things. It’s an honest and, yes, harsh response to a writer who confesses deep, unchecked jealousy of her fellow writers. This Dear Sugar letter isn’t like the “nemesis” confession of Abby Mims I posted last week. Instead, the letter says what many writers have probably (okay, highly likely) felt. And we think sports are competitive.
I love book trailers. This trailer for WILD, Cheryl Strayed’s memoir jumped into my top five list. My other current favorite is emily m. danforth’s trailer for her debut novel The Mis-education of Cameron Post.
Book trailer for Wild by Cheryl Strayed (4:36 minutes)
![powells:
I wrote letters to friends and family from the PCT [Pacific Crest Trail], but I didn’t even attempt to gather them and mine them for information as I wrote Wild. I didn’t because I sensed on a gut level that they’d be of little use to me. In my letters, I’d been trying to make an impression. I wanted to seem strong or funny or impressive, to offer evidence that I was now more together than the sort-of-falling-apart woman many of them thought I was before I set out on my hike. I wanted to seem transformed and heroic to those I wrote to. I know without reading them, my letters were hyperbolic and embellished, covertly self-aggrandizing and embarrassingly philosophical.
But my journal is none of these things. In it, I told myself the truth. Every last inch of whatever the truth might be. I didn’t attempt to cast anything in either a better or worse light. On those pages not meant for anyone’s eyes but my own I did what every memoirist must do years before I knew I’d ever become a memoirist: I gave myself a long level gaze. It was from that place I set about writing Wild.
—Cheryl Strayed, author of Wild and the Dear Sugar column on TheRumpus.net, from a guest blog post on Powells.com
Can’t wait to read this memoir.](http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m179qjN8Ec1qd3jsao1_500.jpg)
I wrote letters to friends and family from the PCT [Pacific Crest Trail], but I didn’t even attempt to gather them and mine them for information as I wrote Wild. I didn’t because I sensed on a gut level that they’d be of little use to me. In my letters, I’d been trying to make an impression. I wanted to seem strong or funny or impressive, to offer evidence that I was now more together than the sort-of-falling-apart woman many of them thought I was before I set out on my hike. I wanted to seem transformed and heroic to those I wrote to. I know without reading them, my letters were hyperbolic and embellished, covertly self-aggrandizing and embarrassingly philosophical.
But my journal is none of these things. In it, I told myself the truth. Every last inch of whatever the truth might be. I didn’t attempt to cast anything in either a better or worse light. On those pages not meant for anyone’s eyes but my own I did what every memoirist must do years before I knew I’d ever become a memoirist: I gave myself a long level gaze. It was from that place I set about writing Wild.
—Cheryl Strayed, author of Wild and the Dear Sugar column on TheRumpus.net, from a guest blog post on Powells.com
Can’t wait to read this memoir.
