Who Gives You Inspiration? (Michelle Intro) (10/24/2020)

A recap of the week's writing at Atticus Review. Introduction by Michelle Ross.

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A week ago, I completed an outdoor adventure course in the pines of Flagstaff with my ten-year-old son. The course consisted of five circuits, each made up of a series of obstacles such as wobbly bridges, rope swings, and hanging nets. These obstacles started off easy and became progressively more difficult from one circuit to the next. At the same time, as the circuits progressed, the obstacles climbed higher and higher up into the pines. 

According to the company’s website, my son wasn’t eligible to do the adult course; he’s two years shy of the cutoff. I’d registered him online to do the children’s course, but when we arrived, the guide noted how tall he is and okay’d him to join me on the adult course. Despite him being a little nervous about embarking on a greater challenge than he’d anticipated, there was only one obstacle, toward the end of the final course, that really fazed him. It consisted of metal foot stirrups swinging on ropes on either side of the line to which we tethered ourselves via carabiners. For the first time all that afternoon, he gave me a nervous look. I asked him if he thought he could bypass the stirrups altogether if necessary and use his arm strength to move his way down the obstacle. (This is what I had done on the previous obstacle. Was it cheating? Maybe. I’m going to call it creativity, though. Rather than quit because I didn’t think I could do what the obstacle intended, I found a workaround.)

As my son began monkeying his way across that rope, bypassing the foot stirrups, a guy several obstacles behind us called to the guides to be rescued. He said he was too exhausted to go any further. But seconds later, as the guide made his way up to him, the guy looked up and over at my ten-year-old son making his way across his obstacle, albeit in an unconventional manner, and, just like that, he changed his mind. He was inspired. If a little kid could do it, maybe he could, too. He almost quit again halfway into the stirrups challenge, but my son and I and the guides below on the ground cheered him on. He kept going.

It took us four hours rather than the three prescribed in the course web site , and our muscles were tired and shaky, but my son and I, as well as the guy behind us, completed the course. There was much socially-distanced congratulating.

Earlier in the course, about halfway into the third circuit, we had watched as, one by one, a group of young teenage boys who’d begun before us dropped out of the fourth and fifth circuits, too tired to continue. I wonder how those boys might have fared differently if they’d been a few obstacles behind my son instead of in front, if they’d looked up and seen someone younger and smaller than them forging ahead. Or what if they had cheered each other on rather than stand by quietly as their companions dropped out?

In whatever we do in life, and writing is certainly no exception, it pays to be mindful of whom we associate with, and who gives us inspiration. Our relationships with others can buoy us, inspiring us to strive for more than we may have previously thought we could accomplish. But just as easily, our relationships with others can stunt our growth, nurture our fears and insecurities, lead us to settle for less than what we’re capable of. 

In my writing life, I owe much to other writers, most especially my first reader and collaborator, Kim Magowan, but many other writing friends, too. I’m inspired by their hard work, their talent, their ambition, and their accomplishments. I’m encouraged by their enthusiasm and support of my own work. As solitary as writing is, community can make so much of a difference.  

Thanks for reading. We're glad you're here.

Michelle Ross

Fiction Editor

THIS WEEK AT ATTICUS REVIEW

FICTIONIT'S HARD TO DECIDE WITHOUT KNOWING THE FUTUREby Lucy Zhang"Skepticism regarding: boiling and then frying and then boiling again the baby back ribs because what is the purpose of the pan-fry, the signature browning from the sear, the savory counterpart to caramelization, if it’ll be written over after the second boil?"READ ON

POETRYRUB OUTby Lisa Grgas"...His neckmetallic and black when she snaps it.He bobs in a pot of salted water above a low flame.A slow boil keeps him tender-boned."READ ON

CREATIVE NONFICTIONMORNING BIRDby Colin Kirkland"After the trucks flattened the earth and workers planted grass seeds, we waited. Eventually, we had a lush backyard for cookouts, baseball, and make-believe."READ ON

MIXED MEDIAFive Visual poems by Jordan Stempleman"'These visual poems engage in the play of rendering language, particularly quotidian phrases, into a process of shifting states and newfound positions of meaning. I am for the marketing slogan gone awry, the statement that when gazed at, when looked at long enough (zoned out), begins to move from mere repetition to revelation.'"READ ON

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