Wish lists
When the universe seems to be trying to tell you something, it might be time to start list-ening.
The universe has been serving me a lot of list content lately. Here’s a list of some of it …
1. I started following Food52 co-founder Amanda Hesser’s Substack, Homeward, and there was this piece about making a list of prerequisites in the search for a new hometown. Relatable, given this stage of life. I’m nowhere near retirement but an empty nest is on the horizon and I do think about whether and where to fly the coop. When I’ve contemplated the question, basic things like climate and geography are fairly easy to pinpoint, and places I’ve lived before that still have the gravitational pull of “home” pop into view, but beyond that the specifics are a little murky. Hesser’s piece made me realize that there are a lot of facets of a place that I haven’t been considering — like how much I take a great farmer’s market for granted, or just how much having a decent, medium-size airport less than 20 minutes from home adds to quality of life — and that our preferences and priorities shift. It’s time to take stock with a new (older) eye.
2. I randomly hit play on a podcast about romance books solely based on its clever name — Fated Mates — and this particular episode happened to center around books in which lists propel the plot. A useful device in fiction; what about for IRL narratives? It’s giving main character energy, as they say, and I’m not mad about it.
3. A couple of weeks ago, I was at an author event for Kevin Wilson, and lists came up yet again. He mentioned that before he ever thought about it as a serious pursuit, some of his first writing as a kid was making lists. “I was writing all the time, just not coherent and not fully formed,” he said. “But I just made lists all the time.”1
I hadn’t really considered these as connected, pointed messages until I was chewing on a conversation Jen and I had a few weeks back over a glass of Chenin Blanc or something similar. She asked what my life would ideally look like if I could define it any way I want right now. (Emptying-nest stage, remember?) We weren’t talking about win-the-lottery fantasy here, but rather the sort of realistically ideal vision that can be the “start here” square on a road map for getting where you might want to go. I had a few sketchy details top of mind, but like the exercise in thinking about an eventual new locale, the picture was pretty fuzzy.
And finally all that list content started to come into focus. As those ’80s Swedes of pop2 bopped, I saw the sign: When it comes to envisioning what I want my days and space and life to look like, I might need to write it into existence. You know, make a list.
I’m writing more in the last couple of years than I have in probably the past decade, but I realized that I haven’t been writing as many things down as I once did.3 Somewhere along the line, I got out of the habit of journaling and even of making lists beyond one for groceries that’s now on my phone or the occasional to-do (or to-don’t) list.4 I guess I needed a reminder of the catalyzing power of writing things down. Maybe you do, too?
Something Kevin Wilson said about using lists in his writing classes at Sewanee struck a chord:
“Mostly what I try to teach is not writing instruction, it’s just like self interrogation. […] I have [my students] at the start of the year make a list of obsessions. […] What do you gravitate to when you hear art that you like, what are you interested in. And I want them to have this list … this is the stuff that you’re holding inside of yourself that animates you in some important way. So why not write about it. But you gotta ask yourself why do you care about that stuff, right? So all we’re really doing in those first classes is what do you like, why do you like it, how do you want to make it.”
Like a mood board illuminating common threads in the aesthetic details you gravitate toward, making lists can show us patterns in the things we like, help us define something we want for our lives. Who are we? Who do we want to be?
What do you like?
Why do you like it?
And, crucially, how do you want to make it.
I find a great notebook is a good motivator for writing things down. I picked up these two specimens on a trip to New York at the beginning of the year, and I’ve started filling them with lots of lists. I’m drawn to grids lately, as you can see, and I love the tiny scale and soft gray tone of the Mnemosyne pages. The paper also feels wonderful and takes both fountain pen ink and pencil really well. The Midori’s grid has a hair space at the top of each row, and I like the idea that the pattern is both organized and not fully contained. It also has a sturdy cardstock cover and lies pretty flat when open, which is helpful.
Are you in the habit of making lists? Do you have another helpful exercise for distilling what you want your life to look like? Or a favorite notebook pick? We’d love to hear about it!
Happy list making, and happy solstice …
Remember the Love/Hate lists in Anastasia Krupnick from our second episode of our 80s Book Club?
Ace of Base
Related: Rewind to Jen’s missive on taking notes — it’s a good one.
From my “Naught Girl Summer” last year.
I can feel an earworm coming on ... Oma, I just love this.