Welcome back to A Writing Life, our series of monthly articles written by long-time 26 member and contributor Rob Self-Pierson.
Like many of us, Rob straddles the line between commercial and personal writing. Each month, we invite him to share stories from his writing life, reflecting on what it means to live as a writer today.
It’s December, and Rob’s looking back over an eventful year, focusing on the many ways it has shaped him and his writing life…
An exciting new 26 project is about to begin over on Substack.
If the 20:26 Project doesn’t mean much to you, take a look at this (link incoming!). And get in touch if you missed our invitation in September.
Since the beginning of the month, I’ve been reading your responses to the brief. I’ve laughed, cried, sighed, and once or twice gasped. Such good, generous writing from the 26 membership. Thank you.
We’re constantly being shaped by life events. Not just the big ones, but little things too. The 20:26 Project explores this. When I pitched it, I hoped we might make a fun collection of life moments. Turns out together we’re exploring what it means to be human. How we’re all connected through the love, longing and loss in our lives.
As is tradition on social these days, I’m going to use this month’s article to wrap my writing life the past year. Inspired by those of you who have written for the new project, I’ll share how 2025 has helped shape me – both the big events, and the little things too.
I’ll start with the loss of my dear dad, who passed away just over a year ago, and the slow but determined recovery of my dear mum.
Dad died on 10th January. Mum, who had only been home from hospital for five days before my father was rushed to A&E, continues to recover from the brain injury that almost stole her life.
Grief and Loss knock at Mum’s door every day. They whisper mean things. But she’s strong and won’t give in. An inspiration, absolutely. Over long, hard months of cognitive therapy and physiotherapy, through hip breaks and back strains, she has focused on getting as well as she can. Her attitude has focused me, too.
Turning down work doesn’t come naturally to me. But I’ve had to do it this year. Mum has needed my time and support, and I’ve learned I only have so much. That’s where my own focus has helped me.
I’ve learned when and how to say No. Plus, when to lean in and say Yes – and to still get work done during the nastiest of times.
Something liberating comes from learning to take a little control back. I used to think I could control everything in life, stop all the bad things from happening. This year has taught me, dear reader, that I am not so powerful. Life is a river that wants to flow and release to the sea. Stand in its way and you get swept into the vastness.
But learn to ride the river, to know the ebbs and eddies of water, its patterns and behaviours, and you’ll find moments of control. Or what feels like control, which can be enough. For me, personal writing and personal projects have been a big part of riding the river this year.
I like celebrating language, so agreed to host A Writing Life live discussion at Wordstock. I love to bring people together around a fun, experimental brief, so created the 20:26 Project. A prose writer, I wanted to challenge myself and pitch a poem to Dark Angels for their next anthology – it was accepted, which delights me.
I adore working with designers. So, for the last three months I’ve been refreshing my studio’s brand with the astonishingly talented Karina Stolf. Karina is energy, enthusiasm and craft in one happy bundle. In combination with Mark Thomas at LowCarbonWeb, I’ve found myself inspired day after day. They’ve been a blessing.
For me, working with people will never be replaced. I’m sure AI will change brand language, and personal writing too, but for me it will never take the place of working with good people. As I hope you’ll experience from 1st January, when we publish the first 20:26 piece, there’s something magic about fellow humans and their stories.
And how you’ve been there for me this year, in a way I’ll never trust artificial intelligence to be. The more I play with new technology, the deeper I fall in love with you lot, and all your quirks. You’ve got me. And I’ve got you. I’ve been humbled by your kindness many times.
We ride the river together, learning as we go. Stopping gets us nowhere, so we move forward, onwards to new places, aware of the uncertainties, with words alongside us and dependable at every turn.
So, in a roasting chestnutshell, this year I’ve:
- Learned a new level of focus and resilience
- Remembered the joy in stepping outside comfort
- Been reminded just how much other people inspire me
- Realised I’m never alone, especially in the writing community
- Doubled down on a belief: that onwards is the only real way
And that’s it. The big, the little. I wonder what 2026 might bring us, other than hopefully 26’s largest ever participation project.
Together we go
Something else 2026 brings is an exciting opportunity for you. Would you like to write a guest piece for A Writing Life? I’m stepping back for a while, recharging. But we’d love the series to go on.
Whatever your writing life, we’ll enjoy reading about it. (Some might say the messier the better.) Email Max at max@whiteweavearts.co.uk if you’d like to do it.
And I’ll see you later next year. I wish you a restful festive time.
Onwards,
Rob
If you’d like to know more about Rob’s writing life, explore his new Substack, connect on LinkedIn, or take a look around his studio.