[WILF] Lighthouses & Findability
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What lighthouses, ancient libraries, and scribes can teach us about visibility, creative work, and staying findable without shouting. Welcome to What I Learned From… “Lighthouses don’t go running all over an island looking for boats to save; they just stand there shining.” ― Anne Lamott What I Learned From …I name all my Kindles Alexandrian. We’re on the eighth or ninth iteration by now thanks to updates, the slow death of battery life, and that one unfortunate incident involving a sidewalk and my overconfidence in ‘drop-proof’ cases; but the name has stayed the same. It’s an homage to the Library at Alexandria, that legendary archive of human thought, writing, and curiosity. It’s also a quiet nod of respect to the work that gives ideas and knowledge value. You’ve probably heard some version of the pop-history myth that Alexandria’s library? That it grew because the Macedonian and Roman empires confiscated books as they conquered and pillaged. That it was the only place in all of the ancient world that housed all the knowledge of the ancient world. That Caesar burned it down because he didn’t want Egyptians to have that much information. The truth is more nuanced…and, honestly, far more interesting. Because Alexandria was one of the most important trading hubs in the Mediterranean, ships came constantly. And thanks to a towering structure on the island of Pharos, one of the Seven Wonders of the Ancient World, they could always find their way. The Lighthouse of Alexandria (the Pharos) was a marvel of engineering and optical science, using mirrors and open flame to shine across the sea. Whether or not it prevented shipwrecks (spoiler alert, there were still a lot of shipwrecks!), it was an unmistakable sight along the north African shore. It didn’t shout to sailors and merchants; it didn’t need to. And the Library? Well, the librarians spent a lot of time down in the harbor with all these visitors. First off, we should acknowledge that the Library at Alexandria was likely not a single library, but at least two royal libraries—the Mouseion and the Serapeum—which were more like research centers and an early example of university-like organizations. They were also temples to…well…the Muses. Hence why we call such structures Museums these days. When Alexander the Great was a young man, he studied at Mieza with Aristotle. Years later, he landed at Alexandria, a city that was already thriving but not the center of the Mediterranean; and Alex decided he was going to make Alexandria the center of the Mediterranean. One of the most important focuses for such an important community? Educated and knowledgeable citizens. After visiting the Royal Library of Ashurbanipal at Niniveh, capital of the ancient Assyrian Empire, he saw how important it was for empires to maintain their knowledge and history. It is believed that the Library of Ashurbanipal contained ~30,000 tablets at one point, the largest collection of Mesopotamian works under one roof. Though Alexander died before he could see his vision fully realized, his successor Ptolemy I Soter kept things going. He finished the libraries, a Mouseion for more formal scholars and a Serapeum for the public. When ships arrived, scholars would descend like crows on a wheat field. Polite crows, but crows nonetheless. “Show us the scrolls you read on your voyage,” they’d say; and thanks to a Ptolemic decree, the answer was usually “Yes.” (They didn’t have much choice.) The originals were brought back to a battalion of scribes who would then work, sometimes around the clock, to make full, accurate copies. The copies were returned, and the originals were kept at the library. Some ships even started arriving with writings they thought might interest the scholars, or might be worthy of the 30 talents of silver some leaders were rumored to have paid for original manuscripts from renowned thinkers like Aeschylus, Sophocles, and Euripides. The Library at Alexandria wasn’t the only place to find this vast amount of knowledge. It just became one of the largest places they collected it. In doing this, Alexandria wasn’t just a stop in the ancient world. The lighthouse didn’t demand attention. It offered guidance. The Library didn’t capture ideas. It cultivated them. One created conditions for safety and arrival, the other created conditions for meaning and growth. This is the version of visibility I keep coming back to. In a world of algorithm-chasing, content-churning, and branding strategies designed to trick people into paying attention, I often think about the Pharos. The ships came, the scholars perused, the scribes copied, the people learned. Not every signal we put out to the world has to be a megaphone. Sometimes it’s a beacon. If I’ve learned anything from working with writers over the years, it’s that the goal is rarely “fame for the sake of fame.” Most of us aren’t trying to go viral, we’re trying to be understood. To create a body of work that says exactly what we meant to say as the thoughts swirled around in our brains. Something someone else might discover and treasure later. When I think about what I want IWF to be in the world, it’s not a flashing billboard or a chorus of clicks. It’s a lighthouse. A library. A place where writers can find their way to shore…and maybe find something worth curling up with while their ship is in the harbor. I name my Kindles Alexandrian because it reminds me that collecting isn’t hoarding. Sharing isn’t shouting. And being findable isn’t about being flashy. It’s about being lit for the people who are looking for what you’ve found and created. That’s what makes a harbor worth returning to. Previously in This Writing Life …All the good stuff you were meant to see but probably didn’t.
Worth Reading …The pieces that made me pause last week.
Notes from the Masters …Craft advice that holds up, straight from the ones who lived it. “The impatient idealist says: ‘Give me a place to stand and I shall move the earth.’ But such a place does not exist. We all have to stand on the earth itself and go with her at her pace.” – Chinua Achebe Prompted: Your Move …A spark from this week’s essay. Use it to write your own. What’s a beacon you once followed that changed your creative path? Maybe it didn’t look like one at the time. A friend’s offhand comment, a weird little book, a sentence that stuck. What lit the way for you...and what did you find once you arrived? Glossary of The Forgotten …Because life’s too chaotic for bland words. Calliduce [KAL-i-dooss] (adj.) — From Latin callidus (“clever”) and lucidus (“bright”), this luminous little hybrid suggests smarts with warmth. It’s the kind of glow you get when something is not just intelligent, but elegantly so; like when someone explains a hard concept without making you feel like an idiot. The glow that comes from insights earned, not broadcast. Sorta synonyms: radiant, brilliant, intellectual sparkle Use it for: That paragraph you rewrote six times and suddenly nailed. A friend who drops the perfect metaphor like they’ve been saving it for years. A writer whose thinking casts light you didn’t know you needed. Try This Thing …No promises. Just a potentially brilliant shortcut or two. PlayPhrase.Me : Search any phrase and watch it delivered across dozens of films. A great tool for studying tone, inflection, and how emphasis plays out in speech. Finally a good use for all that punctuation! The Final Chuckle …Serious writing deserves unserious endings. Ok, but where can I get this onesie? ‘Til next time ~ Elisa |