the value of creative pursuit

In my recent experience with writing and writers, I’ve noticed that many– if not all– sometimes question their purpose. When the world is in disarray, what is served by short stories, fiction, poetry? Arts programs are often the first to be cut from cash-strapped schools. People refer to creative pursuits as hobbies, even if the creators are living off the craft. What resonates for one person may not for another. How do we place a value on art?

     In the most recent issue of the New Quarterly literary magazine, there’s a short story called “You, on your Thirty-Fifth Birthday” (citation below), about a new mother adapting to her baby and the changed relationship she has with her husband. She takes a day to herself, runs away to a local café, spending the time partially wracked with guilt and partially wishing to escape. Her husband texts and texts and finally comes searching for her, because he can’t cope with the baby alone for even half a day.
     The story brought back memories of my husband shouting “get into nursing position!” when I arrived home from a walk, because the baby had been inconsolable. Also the sudden, overwhelming anger I felt for the same beloved man when I agonizingly squeezed out two ounces of breast milk so I could work a half day, and he subsequently poured it down the sink because it smelled “off.” (We’re good, I’m over it. Mostly).
The story in TNQ was a fictional, beautiful reminder of the love, joy, hate, intensity, and frustration of becoming new parents together. The complete loss of control, loss of self, while also finding new rhythms and identity. I read the story twenty-six years after becoming a mother, and it still resonated. Even for those who have not experienced childbearing, even if uninterested or uninvolved in the birthing, or the nursing, they’re essential in their support, their understanding, their help. Every time they don’t panic, it helps. Every time they say, “I’ve got this, you go.” Every time they notice you’ve got the baby and say here, let me.You eat. You nap. We’ll figure this out. Women have done this for centuries, but now we all need to step up. All of us.
     The story reminded me how much it helps to feel heard and understood, to feel a shared experience–lived or otherwise– whether from the writer’s imagination or reality. That’s the value of art, is it not?
     It connects us. It reminds us. It’s essential.
 
Williamson, Emma. You, on Your Thirty-Fifth Birthday. The New Quarterly Issue 169, Winter 2024.