After a whirlwind of late-night editing, technical difficulties, and far too much coffee (what’d you expect from two chicks who founded a magazine called FRENCH PRESS?), French Press Issue #1: Begin the Begin has finally come to fruition. And during all those hours we clocked in for the sake of this beautiful collection of art and literature, we thought of a few (OK, maybe a little more than a few…) things that we’d like to say, as both Co-Editors-in-Chief, and as writers.
During minor momentous occasions (the first day of school, choosing a new paint color for my bedroom walls, applying for a new job or program) my mom used to say to me, “today is the first day of the rest of your life.”
“Can’t you say that about any day?” I usually answered, defaulting, as usual, to sarcasm, causing my mother to roll her eyes and cry, “It’s just an expression!”
What my mom never realized, though, is that I really did find this expression encouraging. It’s empowering, because it can be applied to any day—opportunities for new beginnings are all around us, and they are what we make of them.
As I thought about the title of our inaugural issue, I tried and failed many times to list the most important beginnings in my life, before thinking back to this expression and realizing that beginnings don’t occur as single, independent, momentous moments. They happen continuously, simultaneously; every day, every moment, we grow a little, change a little, embark on a new beginning.
While I was home recently, I found myself flipping through some of my old notebooks. I have wanted to be a writer for as long as I can remember, and it was fascinating to me that, as much as (I hope) my writing has improved over the past ten years, the voice and content of my notebooks has remained consistent. I realized that, though there is no distinguishable beginning to my journey as a writer, if my development as a writer and creator were to originate somewhere, it would be here, scribbled onto these spiral bound pages.
I took a few photographs of some of those pages and compiled them below. Though I’ve organized the pages chronologically, it may be hard to distinguish at what age each project was accomplished. I chose to organize the pages this way in order to prove that my projects don’t develop independently of each other, but are part of a constant process, a never-ending string of new beginnings. Nevertheless, there are a few trends that I can’t help but point out:
-I still suffer from an addiction to starting short stories, only to abandon them a few pages in. So before I had regular access to a computer, this happened much more frequently in my notebooks. When I look through these pages, I’m most drawn to the absurdity of the stories themselves. These stories demonstrate the uninhibited imagination of someone just starting out; as accomplished as an artist becomes in his or her lifetime, I think everyone wishes they could return to that feeling of liberation and naivety one has as a child. This is when art, creation, and imagination is its most raw.
-In fifth grade, I developed an obsession with drawing out my dreams, which resulted in entire sections of notebooks made up of maps and diagrams of faraway, fantasy places.
-I love that my notebooks have never been a place solely for creative writing. As an aspiring artist, I drafted everything, from quizzes to crafts, on those sheer, lined pages.
-When I was thirteen, I took my first formal writing classes, and my notebook that summer was filled with freewriting exercises, compulsive documentation of every idea that entered my head, and edits written onto the pages themselves.
-Even though today my writing projects range from journaling to zine-ing to blogging, I love that I still prefer to draft everything in my notebooks first.
FOR EMBARRASSING COLLECTION OF NOTEBOOK PAGES, CLICK HERE.
It is during this process of writing down an idea the moment it enters my head that I’m able to see my ideas in their rawest form. Usually, an audience only ever sees the final product, but I don’t like to lose sight of where my ideas originate. I’ve found it’s helpful to flip through my notebooks when I’m feeling I’m losing sight of all the progress I have made; they give me the opportunity to see where it all began.
Elizabeth
*****
It is during this process of writing down an idea the moment it enters my head that I’m able to see my ideas in their rawest form. Usually, an audience only ever sees the final product, but I don’t like to lose sight of where my ideas originate. I’ve found it’s helpful to flip through my notebooks when I’m feeling I’m losing sight of all the progress I have made; they give me the opportunity to see where it all began.
When my rambling thoughts collide with some of the loftier concepts in life–new beginnings being one of them–I usually turn to music. If there’s anything insanely profound to be said about something as gloriously baptismal as new beginnings, someone has probably said it before me (and surely more eloquently). So here it is, for your listening enjoyment—30 songs that have scored my new beginnings and the path toward them. Three songs in particular have continued to resonate with me; have rung clearer than any toll or nugget of wisdom or jerk back into reality. Without further ado, here they are:
“(It’s Sometimes Like It Never Started)” by American Nightmare
American Nightmare, one of the wayward creative children birthed by Cold Cave’s charmingly morose Wesley Eisold, is this wonderful new discovery that has completely changed the lens with which I view hardcore. This song in particular displays just how well the band can crank through reams of tension and queasiness without manhandling that volume knob up to 11 (Spinal Tap…anyone?). American Nightmare truly encapsulates all of the stomach knots and nagging thoughts that haunt us all when faced with an unlit path or patch of uncharted territory; better yet, they do it with rage-fueled choruses and joint-popping riffs.
“Workin’ On Leavin’ The Livin’” by Modest Mouse
Isaac Brock has been my main man on the melancholic front for more years than I’d care too admit, and for good reason. Who else would sing “In heaven everything’s all right, in heaven everything is fine,” so convincingly that I consider fumbling off that metaphorical cliff in solidarity with this downtrodden Washingtonian? Brock can coax deep existential pain out of words, instruments, and, most importantly, myself, that I never even realized existed. With this song he tackles the oft-forgotten renewal of death and the charming prospect it can become in life.
“Ready To Start” by Arcade Fire
My first listen of Arcade Fire’s The Suburbs was one of the most pivotal moments of my young life as an angsty 17-year-old. As the days toward college admissions decisions dwindled, I listened intently to this album as it unveiled this new frontier of escape beyond the suffocating suburbs. Win Butler sang with such eerie conviction with Regine Cassagne flanking him with her nymphet whimsy, as if stuck in a viscous muck of innocence. “Ready to Start” was my anthem, the song that would keep me rearing for the new beginning that was readily approaching—a life in Chicago doing what I loved (which I wasn’t quite sure of that at the time), and just the prospect of starting anew. I was ready to start then, and I always will be.
Enough about me and my music…it’s your beginning. Take what’s yours, leave the rest, and don’t look back.
Stay Inspired, Stay Caffeinated,
Shannon
FRENCH PRESS 