Hannah Sward's Blog
December 17, 2023
LA Times Meth
Last week, after telling my sister how much I hate writing I wrote an essay. I had never thought to send anything to the LA Times before. Too lofty. On a whim, after writing a draft, I sent it. The following day they emailed back.
"If it's still available we would like to publish it."
I read the email three times. Maybe they made a mistake. Maybe they meant to email back someone else.
Here's the link...
https://www.latimes.com/opinion/story...
"If it's still available we would like to publish it."
I read the email three times. Maybe they made a mistake. Maybe they meant to email back someone else.
Here's the link...
https://www.latimes.com/opinion/story...
December 16, 2023
I Hate Writing
Last week I called my sister. I was in tears, almost.
“I hate writing. I hate it so much. I’ve always hated it. I never want to write again.”
And I meant it.
Until the next day when I came home from work and at 9:30pm, when I’m usually getting ready for bed, I wrote a sentence. Then another and another. An hour later I had something. I didn’t know what. I didn’t care. I had written and more importantly, I had fun writing. Something I hadn’t felt it months.
Two days later, on a whim, I sent the piece out. A publication I had never even thought of sending anything to. Too lofty. The next day I got an email back
.
“If it’s still available, we’d like to publish it.”
Sometimes the most unexpected happens. Thank you to my little sister (aka Rilke in Strip) who reminded me,
“That’s not true. You don’t always hate writing.”
“I don’t?”
I felt and often feel as if I always do.
This is all to say, I’m excited to share this story when it comes out. In the meantime, whether it’s ‘fun’ or not, I will keep writing. Because that’s what we writers do, right? We write because we can’t not write.
“I hate writing. I hate it so much. I’ve always hated it. I never want to write again.”
And I meant it.
Until the next day when I came home from work and at 9:30pm, when I’m usually getting ready for bed, I wrote a sentence. Then another and another. An hour later I had something. I didn’t know what. I didn’t care. I had written and more importantly, I had fun writing. Something I hadn’t felt it months.
Two days later, on a whim, I sent the piece out. A publication I had never even thought of sending anything to. Too lofty. The next day I got an email back
.
“If it’s still available, we’d like to publish it.”
Sometimes the most unexpected happens. Thank you to my little sister (aka Rilke in Strip) who reminded me,
“That’s not true. You don’t always hate writing.”
“I don’t?”
I felt and often feel as if I always do.
This is all to say, I’m excited to share this story when it comes out. In the meantime, whether it’s ‘fun’ or not, I will keep writing. Because that’s what we writers do, right? We write because we can’t not write.
October 23, 2023
An Awakening
Recently I did an interview and the question was asked about why I dedicated STRIP to learning to sit in the hours...
When I began writing STRIP, I was so far removed from myself that I didn’t have the capacity to do so. But in time, I grew. It was a slow process. A very slow process. As my capacity to tolerate feelings that came up without running away grew, so did my capacity to sit with the words. And I was able to do so for longer and longer periods of time.
It was something I never ever thought possible, and it was the one thing I had always wanted. To be able to sit with myself. I mean really sit with myself. And from that place to write, to breathe, to show up to the page, to write the hard stuff. Writing STRIP was a complete awakening.
When I began writing STRIP, I was so far removed from myself that I didn’t have the capacity to do so. But in time, I grew. It was a slow process. A very slow process. As my capacity to tolerate feelings that came up without running away grew, so did my capacity to sit with the words. And I was able to do so for longer and longer periods of time.
It was something I never ever thought possible, and it was the one thing I had always wanted. To be able to sit with myself. I mean really sit with myself. And from that place to write, to breathe, to show up to the page, to write the hard stuff. Writing STRIP was a complete awakening.
October 22, 2023
Melissa Broder's Reading at Chevalier's
On Wednesday night I went to Melissa Broder's reading of Death Valley. Before sitting down, I looked for my own book on the shelves. I was told it sold out.
Again? Did they not order it or is it really sold out?
"More should be coming in next week. Come back then so you can sign them."
That's what they said two weeks ago.
Melissa's book. I'm here for Melissa's book.
Who doesn't know Melissa's work?
Milk Fed
The Pisces
So Sad Today
and her latest, Death Valley
Seated in the second row I watched her as she took her seat at the front. Worn white tee-shirt, black mini-skirt, black ankle boots, no makeup, tan, tan legs. A runner. She looks like a runner. Slender. Very slender.
The first time I met Melissa was at AWP in Los Angeles. I was with my father. The best part of the conference was meeting Melissa.
Is this what I feel like writing about.? No. It's already 3:25pm. It's Sunday. I wrote earlier this morning, worked on promoting my own book (a year in since pub date), and for whatever reason decided to write a few words here. I've never written a blog. Is that what this is? No one will read it. Doesn't really matter what I write. That's good. I mean the doesn't matter part. The truth is I don't feel like writing. I don't feel like doing anything today. My step father is in the hospital, my half sister's dad died last week (she had flown in days before the attack in Israel - where she lives- to be with her father, bringing her four boys and husband with her) -
"Up until the end, he was my father protecting me," she said.
And five days ago I returned from scattering my own father's ashes up north in the Sierra Mountains.
"I want my ashes scattered at the Ranch," my father said before he died. "But I don't want you to hire someone to bring them there."
Four times he said that.
Hire someone?
"Dad, I'm not going to hire someone."
Where did he get that idea from?
Oh right, a hike. Did I say that earlier. It being after 3pm and okay, that's enough. I am pushing myself to go to Runyon Canyon. Will anyone read this? No. At least I put some words down. Why does that matter, putting words down? More later.
Again? Did they not order it or is it really sold out?
"More should be coming in next week. Come back then so you can sign them."
That's what they said two weeks ago.
Melissa's book. I'm here for Melissa's book.
Who doesn't know Melissa's work?
Milk Fed
The Pisces
So Sad Today
and her latest, Death Valley
Seated in the second row I watched her as she took her seat at the front. Worn white tee-shirt, black mini-skirt, black ankle boots, no makeup, tan, tan legs. A runner. She looks like a runner. Slender. Very slender.
The first time I met Melissa was at AWP in Los Angeles. I was with my father. The best part of the conference was meeting Melissa.
Is this what I feel like writing about.? No. It's already 3:25pm. It's Sunday. I wrote earlier this morning, worked on promoting my own book (a year in since pub date), and for whatever reason decided to write a few words here. I've never written a blog. Is that what this is? No one will read it. Doesn't really matter what I write. That's good. I mean the doesn't matter part. The truth is I don't feel like writing. I don't feel like doing anything today. My step father is in the hospital, my half sister's dad died last week (she had flown in days before the attack in Israel - where she lives- to be with her father, bringing her four boys and husband with her) -
"Up until the end, he was my father protecting me," she said.
And five days ago I returned from scattering my own father's ashes up north in the Sierra Mountains.
"I want my ashes scattered at the Ranch," my father said before he died. "But I don't want you to hire someone to bring them there."
Four times he said that.
Hire someone?
"Dad, I'm not going to hire someone."
Where did he get that idea from?
Oh right, a hike. Did I say that earlier. It being after 3pm and okay, that's enough. I am pushing myself to go to Runyon Canyon. Will anyone read this? No. At least I put some words down. Why does that matter, putting words down? More later.
