Tim Nahumck writes about not writing, about how everything seems so unimportant compared to the current global situation. And he's right.
I've been writing a lot less over the past few weeks, not just because of the pandemic but because of other things that have been genuinely more important: moving house, getting settled, trying to find a new job. Little things like that
Over the past couple of months I've found that the bi-weekly muse-letter has become more important to me than the daily mutterings on the blog. I wrote in the last letter that I'll always find time for them.
I'm not really sure why I make the mental distinction between the two, the letters are essentially an extension of what I do on the blog, but that distinction exists and alters how I feel about them, how I value them.
I think they're important (to me, at least) because they are a sacred space, one where I can say and do what I like - it's truly mine.
Wait, can't I do that with the blog? Isn't the idea of a blog to be your own space on the web? Of course, but there's something about the letters having limited distribution, about feeling they're more open and more like letters to a friend than something being posted to the web. It may seem like a contradiction, seeing as how all editions are publicly available, but the primary means of distribution is more psychological than anything.
Everything in a letter could easily be published on the blog (and likely would have been had I not started them) yet, by treating them differently, they trigger a different mindset. They become more important.
While most things do pale into insignificance when compared to what's going on in the world, and in life, the letters act as a support structure, a way to offload and assess things,a means of dealing with things. Again, this could be achieved on the blog but the more intimate nature lends itself to this perfectly.
I don't think the letters could ever completely replace the blog, the fact that I am writing this is testament to that. They are, however, a different avenue, a way of approaching things so as to reclaim some of that importance usurped by circumstance.