Marching back

Back from hiatus

Hello Friends,

Welcome to March! We are nearly 20% through the year. This is both exciting (so much time!) and nerve-wracking (where did the time go?).

I’ve been away for the past couple of weeks. It was needed. Writing Tangent started to feel more like a chore than a joy. Thankfully, distance makes the heart grow fonder and I’ve missed this space, and you, of course.

What have I been thinking about?

From my newsletter sabbatical (let’s call every break a sabbatical now, shall we?) I emerged with the following musings:

I’ve been thinking about the idea of being a writer, and the pitfalls of becoming overly tied to any identity. Whenever someone refers to me as a “writer,” I still feel uneasy. I wear the title like an XXL cream-colored collar shirt with orange polka dots.¹

A couple of months back, I wrote an entire piece about writing as an identity that boiled down to: Don’t let gatekeepers make you feel like you are not a writer. If you write, then you are a writer.

But now I’m thinking about the perils of calling yourself a “writer”—and whether the fixation on the label makes us miss the forest from the trees.

In my Capital “W” Writer piece, I wrote:

Instead, becoming a Writer means we become a student of life. Someone who looks at a tree and sees infinite textures in its foliages. Someone who overhears a first date next to him while writing this piece and immediately conjures a screenplay. Someone who feels heartbreak deeply, and in the midst of the pain says, “I need to write about this.”

And then I stumbled upon this brilliant quote from William Faulkner from his legendary interview with The Paris Review:

I’m starting to think that what feels truer to me is to not call myself a writer, but rather an imagineer, an observer, a student of life. To answer the question of “what do you do?” with “I exist.”

The problem with simply saying “I exist,” is that I don’t know any social context in which that answer won’t cause eye-rolls, or make people think I’m trying way too hard to be the next coming of Rene Descartes.²

It is all part of the transformation journey. You replace old labels with new ones. The tension I’m feeling though, is whether labels do more harm than good—at least for me.

I don’t have a precise answer. For now, I’ll probably go along with the description of “writer,” because it is 1) something I do quite often 2) something I enjoy 3) easier for others to understand. However, internally, I know I am much more than that—and that I need to engage with life more meaningfully. Which brings me to the second thing I’ve been thinking about:

If you want things to write about, well, then you gotta live an interesting life. I don’t necessarily mean that you go all out and do things “just for the plot.” For example, don’t decide you are going to arbitrarily go on 15 first dates just to say you did.³

But in talking to my friend,

Rick Lewis

a few weeks back when we met up in Vancouver, it became very clear to me that there is this virtuous circle that kinda goes like this:

What does this mean for me? The best way to overcome the fear of not being interesting/insightful/entertaining enough, is to do more of the things I’ve wanted to do, but have been too afraid to try. To embrace audacity over timidity.

And one of my core fears is the fear of other people’s opinions, which is another thing I’ve been thinking about lately.

I’m reading a book called The First Rule of Mastery by renowned performance psychologist, Michael Gervais. He coins the term FOPO (Fear of Other People’s Opinions), and argues that if we contort and conform to what other people think of us, then we’ll limit our potential and our pursuit of mastery (our highest human expression). Instead, we should use FOPO as an opportunity to understand ourselves better and identify what’s in our control. He writes:

“Hence, the first rule of mastery requires to looking within and fundamentally committing to work on mastering what’s 100 percent under your control. There is nothing else that can be mastered. This is the essence of the path.”

Finally, he shares a quote from the artist Moby⁴ that I’ve been thinking about all week and will share with you on my way out.

“think of how strange it is that we hand our sense of self—that we hand our emotional state—over to strangers, over to people we’ve never met and people who might just be bots on Macedonian troll farms.… I realized a while ago that I cannot stay sane and calm if I’m constantly being torn apart by the opinions of people I’ve never actually met.”

What’s coming up in Tangent?

I’m going to share how I used AI to finally understand my main writing themes and core ideas, I will (try) to explore the arena of Generative AI and IP/copyright, and I will share personal reflections on dancing and authenticity.

What I’ve Been Reading

Why We Don't Trust Each Other Anymore

Kyla is one of my favorite writers. In this frenetic, but very thoughtful and thought-provoking piece, Kyla examines the current discourse on the economy as part of a wider exploration for why we seem to understand ourselves, and each other, less than ever.

Simon Bass - “I’m sorry to have to announce that my cancer situation has developed not necessarily to my advantage”

This essay was the perfect Memento Mori⁵ I often think about what I would think about if I knew death was an imminent reality (In theory, death always is imminent, but a terminal diagnosis is just processed differently). This essay is an inspiring account by someone facing such diagnosis.

Here is my favorite excerpt:

At 46, I have lived far longer than most of the humans in the 300,000-year history of our species. So have you, probably. And if the book of my life is shorter than many modern people’s, it doesn’t make it any less of a good read. Length and quality are not correlated in lives any more than they are in novels or films. So carpe that diem and keep it carped. And enjoy the tiny ways you can make other people a little happier. That’s actually the secret of being happy oneself.

The Elements of Eloquence by Mark Forsyth

This book was simply brilliant. It’s a review of the most common literary devices in English language. It’s full of wit, clarity, and insights. It’s not academic. It reads like a collection of sweet short stories.

And once you read the book, you will see that in the previous paragraph I used a tricolon, anaphora, and alliteration. You would also see that the title of Simon Bass’ essay is a perfect example of litotes.

Crónica de una muerte anunciada | Chronicle of a Death Foretold by Gabriel Garcia Marquez

If you haven’t read Gabriel Garcia Marquez, this is the book you should start with. It’s a quick read, but captures the mastery of Garcia Marquez’s storytelling and narrative flow. This book will have you hooked.

I read this in Spanish (since I’m starting to forget it a bit and had an existential freakout), so I do wonder how different some of his more long-winded descriptions land in the ear of a native English speaker.

What I’m listening to

Angela Aguilar’s Bolero

Coinciding with her new album, Bolero, Angela created a wonderful documentary that showcases Cuba, its landscapes, and its influence in Latin music, particularly with Boleros.

I’m an old soul, and I’m getting fed up with mediocre Reggeaton. So Angela’s artistry in this documentary is a breath of fresh air. It’s important for music to evolve, to tell contemporary stories. Just as important is to honor our roots, to never forget our history. Boleros are the quintessential romantic genre of an entire continent. I’m glad new voices like Angela (daughter of the mythical Pepe Aguilar) is sharing these stories.

Maria José Llergo - Lucha

Maria Jose is part of a new crop of Spanish artists that blend traditional Spanish Flamenco sounds with modern pop sounds. If you are a fan of Rosalía and C. Tangana, then you are going to love her.

I’m excited to see her live next Wednesday for her US tour.

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Before you go…

I want to thank you again for sticking around during my hiatus! I was genuinely concerned I was going to see a massive drop on subscribers. Abandonment issues aside, I consider myself pretty lucky that you are reading this. So thank you again.

And if you are new here, then I encourage you to subscribe and stick around for a few weeks.

Until next time!

1. To the dismay of 16-year old Camilo, I actually cannot pull off orange.

2. “I think therefore, I Substack.”

3. Is this hyper-specific example a subtle reference to something that may or may have not happened to me? Perhaps. #Iwas1of15

4. Not the whale.

5. Memento mori is a Latin phrase that means "remember you must die," serving as a reminder of the inevitability of death and the importance of reflecting on one's mortality. It’s one of the cornerstones of Stoic philosophy