Elvia Wilk, Writer and Editor
Elvia Wilk is the author of the novel Oval (2019), “a finely observed dystopian mirror” and the essay collection Death by Landscape (2022), “a whirlwind tour of thought that develops into a philosophy.”
APOSSIBLE™ is a non-profit bringing psychologists, technologists, artists and creatives together to explore how technology can better support creativity and human fulfillment. In this ongoing interview series we’re discovering what people value, what makes their lives fulfilling, and what kinds of relationships to technology they already cherish.
1. What is a ritual, practice, or routine in your life that is important for your psychological wellbeing and/or fulfillment? Why?
To be honest, I don't have routines. I don't do the same things every day, much less every week or month, and I don't have consistency in most areas of my life. Learning that I don't need to be rigid in order to make work and have a community has been one of the most liberating realizations, although I still fight against the expectation. I now know that I can be disciplined without a rigid schedule; I just Get Things Done and Don't Miss Deadlines — whenever I can and whatever it takes. When I'm at a residency, have time off, or there's something I really need to figure out, I write a LOT every day, but at a set time or a set amount? Doesn't work! I just get discouraged if I mess up.
I inherited a lot of ideas about discipline that don't apply to me or my body, from work — write at 6am! — to body — cardio! — to spirit — meditate! — and they always just made me feel inadequate...and bored. It's unrealistic. Today, I have four committed jobs and about ten floating projects; I juggle them differently and often frantically. I'm also sick a lot, which takes me out of any physical routine I might develop. So my psychological wellbeing and fulfillment require freeing myself to work within my real-world constraints and limits without guilt. In my ideal world, every day I would have time to write, read, exercise, and have dinner with friends, the last of which is my most holy activity.
2. What is a human-made creation that brings out the best in you? Why?
Books, but especially novels. Novels bring me unbearable joy, they take me out of my petty everyday life, they entertain me, they make me less lonely, they break my heart by making me confront the world. As someone who tries to write books, I'm AMAZED by the fact that so many people have written so many incredible books.
I spent a lot of my life trying to read theory, and at this particular time I've given myself liberty to read exactly what I want, and it's novels. Short fiction, sometimes, but what is better than a book that demands hours of your time and steals you from everything else demanding your attention? The focused energy of reading a novel lights up your brain in a specific way, if you're looking for scientific proof.
3. When do you cherish the slow or hard way of doing something? Why?
Writing a book will probably never take me fewer than two years and writing a novel will probably never take me fewer than four. With my current book project I admitted to myself that every time I rewrite it, it really does get better (although there's an asymptote... and finding when to stop is tricky).
For short writing on deadlines, you gotta just hit the deadline, the word count, and the brief, so don't try to blow up the constraints. With your Life's Work... you'd be a fool to rush it. I'm a fool, of course, but working against the efficiency mandate of this economic and cultural system is a personal and political effort I believe in.
4. What is something you appreciate or long for from the past? Why?
I definitely don't want to go back in time, but wish I could experience one aspect of my adolescence again: discovering music in a big way. Imagine sitting in your bedroom and listening to a CD six times, slack-jawed in awe of what you think is your own private discovery.
I could not BELIEVE that there was so much music in the world for me to find, and every new CD was like a revelation. I still get glimpses of that kind of mind-altering encounter with art, but they're few and far between. My attention span is bad, I'm inundated with content, and my critical faculties get in the way sometimes before I can just listen (or look, or smell, or touch). I aspire to find that state again.