When writing outlives not only the writer but those who failed to recognize her brilliance

“There are years that ask questions and years that answer.” ―Zora Neale Hurston, Their Eyes Were Watching God

When I was growing up, I realized most of the authors I read were no longer living.

Their characters and ideas, however, were very much alive inside me and other readers. And, to my young mind, I believed this to be magic.

I still do. The magic of genuine, human storytelling = nothing short of traveling across time and connecting with others in the quietest of moments in profound and unparalleled ways.

Photo by DDP

I read Zora Neale Hurston for the first time when I was a teenager.

By then, I was disillusioned; consumed by how imperfect and unspecial I felt, books had become more of an escape to me than a study. I sometimes took them for granted, ducking into worlds just to be out of my own.

The reasons we read vary. I still read to escape at times. But as a writer, I’ve become as fascinated by the author journeys as the writing itself. The stories behind the story, if you will.

Zora Neale Hurston believed that she was worth investing in and that what she loved was more important than comfort and ease. She believed in her mission and purpose to observe, as an anthropologist who received recognition as a folklorist during her life but Their Eyes Were Watching God, the work she’s synonymous with now, was largely ignored.

Many brilliant works are ignored. Many brilliant people are ignored in thier lifetimes for their best work. At least by the masses.

It seems to me, and did seem even when I was a kid, that every book I was meant to read found me. But I also can’t help but thinking what I might have missed.

It was a mysterious thing that we end up reading certain blogs, certain books, connecting with certain others across time.

I was so incredibly grateful for all the authors who reached me. Books shaped me as much as my parents and friends and location. Books gave me depth and perspective and reminded me how similar yet unique we all are.

This is a foundational revelation, nothing new, but it’s one I associate with Hurston and her story of not receiving recognition during her lifetime.

Perhaps she would have enjoyed seeing how much impact her writing had traveled into minds beyond her life, but I doubt that was what her work was truly about.

It seems she was genuinely curious about the world and the way people interacted across the communities she observed. She was curious about the everyday and the mundane as well as the dreams.

Being genuinely curious and finding our own agency seems often at odds with wanting acceptance or accolades.

I’m curious about why certain people connect across time and space, but my assumption is that it comes from this place of agency and genuine curiosity about others.

We don’t always see the full reach of our impact, but writers like Hurston make me think asking the right questions can keep us going.

Zora Neale Hurston. Library of Congress. New York World-Telegram & Sun Collection

Writing Prompt: Write about you or a character who is searching for agency and finds it. Write only that scene—the scene of finding agency. And write it with all your heart. What is sacrificed? Does it matter?

A special meditation on slowing down creative observation/appreciation is below.

The downloadable version is available to paid subscribers. Our next Creative Resiliency circle is Friday, June 19. Join us here. And in the meantime, check out (and add to) the Creative Resilience playlist we made last time.

Thank you to again to @Tiffany S. , @Sara Jane Moginot, @Christina Larsen , @The Door Between Worlds, @Sara Castaneda, @Amanda Woodruff & others who are kicking this off.

Creative energy is everywhere (let's take a look around while we wait for the water to boil)