A while ago I watched The Lost Daughter – an understated yet hugely powerful film based on the novel* of the same name by Elena Ferrante. We learn about Leda, an academic on the cusp of greatness in her field, who also happens to be a young mother.
Hopping between the past (Leda portrayed by the sublime Jessie Buckley) and the present (Olivia Colman – what a cast), we see – we feel – Leda’s psychological pain and cerebral frustration as she’s mercilessly tugged between her two daughters’ unrelenting needs and her burgeoning academic passions.
Light spoiler ahead…
We eventually discover that, for a number of years while her children were small, her intellectual inclinations won out. She left her daughters in the sole care of their dad to pursue her career. And we accompany her on a solo holiday in the present day as she continues to process the guilt she still carries for having abandoned her children when they needed her most.
That spoiler moment is over 👍
This film hit me hard in the gut. Because I, too, feel that tug. I want to write so many stories, build countless worlds, make unexpected connections, absorb amazing music until my own seeps out of me, and experience so much creative joy. And I want to talk about all of this with anyone who’ll listen, as much as possible.
Over the last couple of years, I’ve had a clear window of time in which I’ve been able to feed this creative hunger. But that window, between 8.00 pm and 10.00 pm each night, is currently closed. At the moment, my children crave my company during those hours more than any other time in the day. And I give it to them.
At first, this was really hard (I’ve written before about my lack of time in which to create). But, this year, I’ve been feeling the emotional and intellectual conflict The Lost Daughter lays bare more viscerally than I ever have before. But parenting – and creating – is about adapting, even when it’s unintuitive. So that’s what I’ve spent the last few months attempting to do.
What does this look like? Instead of passively waiting for another creative window to open, I’ve wrenched open my own. It’s only a tiny crack right now, but it’s widening, bit by bit. And that window involves me creating with my children, rather than away from them.
Over the summer holidays, we’ve been writing funny little songs together (Soundtrap has been brilliant for this), coming up with stories, comic strips and puerile comedy sketches. I’ve been having brilliant ‘conversation parties’ with my eight-year-old, where we switch off the lights and talk about anything and everything until we’re crying with laughter. I’ve been sharing my favourite music with my daughter, explaining the lyrics to her when she asks about certain words, showing her videos of live performances that I know we’ll eventually experience together when she’s older. My whole body thrums with adoration when she absentmindedly sings some of my favourite songs to herself as they become part of her, just like they’re part of me.
Together, my children and I are writing so many stories, building countless worlds, making unexpected connections, absorbing amazing music until our own seep out of us, and experiencing so much creative joy. And we are talking about it all to each other, all of the time.
And I began to realise that, as I nourish myself, I am nourishing them too.
There’s a cost, of course. I have barely any time left for my own creative projects – including this newsletter. But I hope that consciously crumpling my conflicts into a single, messy, but manageable ball of chaotic creativity will pay off in the long term.
In doing so, I’ve proven to myself that – unlike Leda in The Lost Daughter – I don’t have to sacrifice one for the other. I can choose both, as long as I can accept imperfection.
As if perfect was ever possible…
Currently reading: This Is How You Lose The Time War by Amal El-Mothar and Max Gladstone. I have…mixed feelings on this so far, but I’m going to reserve judgment. It’s certainly not like anything I’ve ever read before.
What I recently enjoyed reading: From one ‘Leda’ to another, I recently read Love, Leda by Mark Haddon. The manuscript for the only known novel from the late poet was uncovered and published very recently, and I found the background of the author and his short life as fascinating as the semi-autobiographical story itself. The book, which pre-dates the Sexual Offences Act of 1967, is a portrait of early 60s Soho, as well as an important document of queer, working-class life in London.
What I recently enjoyed watching: Through my wonderful job I’m lucky enough to get an annual allowance for cultural experiences. So last month I went to watch the play The Effect at The National Theatre. Written by Lucy Prebble, the story explores love, attraction, neurochemicals, mental health, medical ethics, Big Pharma, delusion, survival and SO MUCH MORE. The production and performances were incredible: do see it if you can (trigger warning for mental illness and suicide ideation).
What I’m enjoying listening to: The album Bad Nerves by Bad Nerves is an uncompromising punk pop rollercoaster that seems to perfectly capture the tempo at which my brain thinks. I’m seeing them live for the first time in January and can’t wait.
That family/writing time balancing act is so familiar, Hayley. I respect your sense of priorities. At the end of the day, you might be tired from burning that candle at every end, but your kids will be lovingly mothered and you'll get your writing in. It's interesting how creativity will find a way.
This is so beautiful, Hayley. You're role modelling that creativity and time with them are your priorities. I can just imagine that these will be moments they look back on throughout their lives. Foundational.
I'm sure these bursts of creativity will be contributing to your other projects too in ways you don't even realise.