DTLA

I found the life blood of Los Angeles downtown. Tall buildings pierced that brilliant blue sky and palm trees swayed on cracked sidewalks, and between the concrete stillness and soft breezes, sound: horns honking, people laughing, the metro rumbling underground. USC, a few stops away.

When I got there, a panel of writers were talking about the value of coming undone, of what we do with having been injured spiritually, emotionally, mentally – which was exactly my state of arrival.

“Being undone, and the undone-ness of thinking through something, is an ongoing creative process. If you don’t do it, the books you write won’t mean anything. When you suffer through all those moves, you will eventually figure out how you think and what you want to say,” one writer said.

LA is a city of angels and sinners who are still figuring, who put themselves in play and at risk of change – betting on the fact that they will. It is a place where criticism and creativity can coexist, in fact, serve each other.

“When you can say out loud, ‘you can do better,’ it’s a sign of respect,” another writer said. “There’s an element of respect in criticism.”

It seems to me there is an equal amount of self-respect in that too, because we know what we deserve. We don’t always get it right, but we’ll always be wrong if we don’t create the better that we know to be real. We can see it in our imagination.

It’s why all the dreamers live in La La Land. They believe in what they think and feel, and make it so. Unapologetic in their expression, respectful in saying: this is what I’m worth.

“By writing, you teach people how to read you.”