Something said by Suzanne Rouvier, a character from Somerset Maugham’s The Razor’s Edge, haunts me. A painter’s mistress, Suzanne made a living by posing, and when those artisanal springs stopped flowing, she found the next artist. Living in Paris during the early 1900s, her mix of lanky limbs, fair skin, and bright blue eyes were in demand through the zenith of modern art. She was also keen, a good eye and good company, and for her relationships with artists, mostly by osmosis, she became a halfway decent painter too. But it’s Maugham’s descriptions of why she left a young painter that’s scared the piss out of me ever since I read the lines:
“… he was a nice boy. I didn’t think he was getting any further. He was repeating himself.”
My habit of repetition is why I rebranded this newsletter The Cutback and focused its mission on career change. I thought that’s what people wanted, advice about changing careers, and across the past three years I’d accumulated shelves of that canned advice, so material would be endless. The surest path to financial viability in writing.
So, how’s has it gone since the rebrand? Alright. Gathered a few subscribers, increased readership, further defined my niche.
What’s the problem then?
I didn’t really care about helping people change careers, honestly. And recently, when I tried to “give advice”, I felt the dull throb of deadness throughout my process. A couple of weeks ago, I asked my wife for feedback about something I’d written and she said, “It was fine, a good read, but you know, as someone who’s read everything you write, it was stuff I’ve already heard you say.”
Shit. Suzanne mother fucking Rouvier.
Thus, I’ve been asking myself what I really want to do here. That desire is to write the truth, as best I can live it, and if that helps people change careers, awesome. If not, cool. Because not too long ago, when I was desperately looking for an escape from a career that was killing me, I wasn’t looking for advice. I was looking for hope.
And that’s what I’ll be doing a little more around here, shooting up Flares in the Dark.
To livin’ a life we love,
Ryan Fightmaster, MD
