Lightning Flash Writing

Last month, I wrote about getting offline, and I’ve been thinking about it every other day since. I kept thinking I’d just… fade away from Substack after that, not quite announcing my departure while also making it pretty obvious what I was doing.

I keep thinking… why am I writing this? (Because I miss LiveJournal.) Does anyone care? (No.) Is it worth the effort? (Not really, but it’s only once a month…) What else would you do with that time?

That’s when I figured I might as well keep this going. Because what I’d do with that “spare” time not used to write a Substack post once a month would be, well… writing. My goal starting July 1st was to prioritize my writing over everything else, which isn’t easy (or smart) when you’re a single mom and the sole breadwinner. But I don’t mean that I’m not working anymore or letting my kid run wild (although it is summer, so that ship has already sailed). It just means that I’m going to spend my spare time writing more than anything else. No more doomscrolling (well, at least aim for less). Picking up a book instead of watching a show. Connecting with words and thoughts instead of a screen.

And Substack is… kind of that. I’m writing, at least. And it’s a way to get stuff out of my mind while still forming words that feel more personal than anything I do for work. So I decided it was worth it to me.

And I let myself get caught in this spiral of thoughts, “borne back ceaselessly into the past” if you will, thinking of the people I’ve been before. I feel like a different person from even two years ago, in both good and bad ways. But my mind goes back beyond that, to when I was in my teens and early 20s because… did you guess why? That’s when I had LiveJournal.

I thought of how often I used to post and what I used to post. Did anyone care? Probably not, honestly, but I loved posting and reading my friends list more than anything. It’s how we kept in touch (and I’m still incredibly close with two LiveJournal friends from way back when). It wasn’t my only creative outlet, though. I was also trying to write fiction, and I was desperately trying to become a rock photographer.

It’s wild to me to look back and remember how I’d drive to Nashville after work (about 3 hours away), photograph anywhere from two to four bands at a shitty bar, socialize, then drive back home just in time for my early morning college class. After four classes and another work shift, I’d go home and start editing photos. I had drive. I had energy. I had youth.

Now I think twice before buying tickets to a concert in my own damn city. I can’t think of the last time I went to Nashville for a show, much less making the drive there and back in the same day. And now that my once-music city gets next to nothing in terms of shows, all the bands I want to see, who are all touring this year, it seems, are bypassing us for Nashville and Atlanta.

So while I used to be the girl who would stay up editing concert shots in Photoshop with a can of Monster (probably poured into a glass of vodka) and a head full of dreams, I’m now someone who calculates whether a 9 p.m. start time includes the opener, how long parking will take, and whether it’s even worth the hassle.

And somehow, despite my struggle to focus on anything movie-length on a screen, livestreams have become… better?

Maybe it’s just where I am in life—single mom, solo income, constantly tired—but the idea of watching a concert in pajamas on my couch with no one stepping on my foot or spilling beer on me? That wins overall. And when bands aren’t coming here anyway (love you, Memphis, but you know it’s true), livestreams are sometimes the only way to be there at all.

I don’t think this means I’ve lost my passion. I think it means I’ve shifted the way I show up for it. Maybe it’s not about chasing shows so much as it is about choosing which parts of the past are still worth carrying forward.

LiveJournal is gone (or more accurately, bot- and virus-laden). The best venues are mostly gone (not every artist needs to play in an arena, thanks!). Some of that raw drive is gone too. But the love of writing is still here. The love of music is still loud. (In my living room, anyway.)

So I guess that’s the point of this post, and maybe the point of this Substack: I’m not disappearing. I’m still here. And I’ll keep showing up, once a month, writing about whatever’s taking up space in my head. Because that’s what I’ve always done. The tools have changed, the city has changed, the version of me has changed. But the impulse is the same.

If you’re looking for a hit of that old music-and-feelings vibe, I highly recommend Baby Plays Around by Helene Stapinski — a memoir that blends love, music, and loss beautifully. And Daisy Jones & the Six by Taylor Jenkins Reid is still a top-tier read for anyone who ever wanted to be backstage instead of in the pit.

As for band memoirs… don’t worry. I’ve got enough to make that its own post. Or three.

Got any music-related books you think I should read? Share it with me! Maybe I can pretend to be young and hip while reading it on my couch in pajamas.

This writing prompt, for me, is creative nonfiction all the way, but I think it could easily veer into fiction, especially depending on the band you choose to “see”.

Write about the best concert you’ve ever seen. What made it great? The band? The music? The crowd? The energy? The person you went with?