October was a lot. I’ve been singing with a new chorus. I did the Renaissance Faire in the rain. I braved the parking garages of NYC to attend New York Comic Con—twice. And when it was all over, I promptly got sick (as is my way).
But before all that, I drove up to the Great Sacandaga Lake in northern New York and stayed in an Airbnb with two other writers and I tried to see a way forward at a time when things in my life seemed stagnant.
Y’all. There’s just something about being in community with other writers that is energizing as fuck.
Part of it is being with people who get it, who are just as intense about writing as you are. Sharing ideas and feedback with other writers is gratifying in a way you can’t recreate with your software engineer spouse who reads maybe two books a year and your 9-year-old who is always super supportive but also somehow patronizing(?).
But another big part of it is being able to give uninterrupted space and attention to something that’s typically crammed into the leftover bits of your day-to-day life.
When you have the space to do that, you’re suddenly able to see the bigger picture in a way you couldn’t before, when you were buried in copywriting deadlines and food shopping and permission slips. I feel lucky that I was able to take that space, even if only for a few days.
***
I’ve spent the past year coasting, writing my bookish blog posts, my branded how-tos, and my client newsletters. And sure, I enjoy nerding out about books online, and I love that I get to work with people and organizations I admire. But I also let so many things fall by the wayside.
I stopped pitching and producing new journalistic work. I struggled to write creatively. I barely touched Guerrilla Sex Ed.
I’ve mentioned in previous emails that I’ve been grappling with a lot of anger and grief. Eventually, I became numb. It felt easier that way. Safer. But it also felt too difficult to create work I felt passionate about when I was trying so hard to feel nothing.
At the same time, in those leftover bits of my days, I began to explore something new. Veering out of my usual niche, I noodled around with essay ideas around caregiving, marriage, anxiety, invisibility, and ambition. In those essays, I could see a common thread about the two paths we face as we grow older: one of expansion and one of contraction.
I felt like I was in a space of contraction, but I wondered which one I would ultimately choose.
***
In the lead-up to my writing retreat, I put together an outline for an essay collection, one that would explore this dynamic, interrogating what it means to grow older and to engage with the ramifications of that growth within a culture that does not allow women to age, and that does not adequately support them.
In talking to my writer-buddies about these ideas, and to other friends, I’m fascinated by what this means to different people. It’s proving to be a rich topic to explore.
Since coming home from the retreat, I feel a new buzz of excitement for my writing, and for where this project might lead me. Even if it lives on my computer until the end of time, I at least have a roadmap for what I might write in the coming year.
At the same time, my outline feels like a roadmap for some much-needed introspection.
I wonder what your roadmap might look like.
What are the ways in which life has contracted for you in recent years? And in that contraction, have you managed to find paths for possible expansion?
On the Internets
Eli Hager wrote this longread on what happens when foster parents don’t want to give a child back to their birth parents. If you find this story interesting, I highly recommend Roxanna Asgarian’s We Were Once a Family.
Scholastic came under fire for allowing schools to opt out of diverse books at their books fair. They’ve since walked back that decision. 🙄
Jessica DeFino’s newsletter The Unpublishable is consistently fascinating. Recent good reads include this interview about the evolution and impact of influencers and marketing on our lives and this other one on how social media beauty filters fuck with our mental health (and particularly the mental health of teen girls).
Everything I Accomplished Despite Life
In the lead-up to Halloween, I really leaned into the horror thing for Book Riot, doing up posts on adult versions of your favorite childhood horror books, horror reads that made my skin crawl, and nonfiction about witches, ghosts, and other odd creatures.
I also celebrated the five-year anniversary of A Dirty Word (go on and buy it, already!) by finally finishing this embroidery project.
And this isn’t a personal accomplishment, but it’s a new thing that’s happening in my professional life. Those of you who follow my work know that I’ve been a regular contributor to the Feminist Book Club blog for a little over three years now. FBC was recently forced to press pause on new content. One reason is that they were robbed FOUR TIMES (!) in the space of two weeks. The other reason is that they’re in the midst of transitioning to a worker-owned cooperative. I’m on the transition team and am about to get a crash course in how something like this works, so that’ll be a wild ride. You can learn more on this just-released podcast episode and, if you feel so inclined, donate to support this transition.
Necessary for My Sanity This Past Month
The bag of St. Michel Chocolate French Crepes I keep hidden in my office closet.
The Apple TV adaptation of Lessons in Chemistry.
The egg drop soup I made for myself when I was struck down with a nasty head cold for an entire week.
The Feminist Book Club Readathon, which took place this past weekend, during which I read Krista Burton’s Moby Dyke. Burton’s book is a humorous travel memoir about the last lesbian bars in the U.S., and an interrogation of the necessity of community-focused spaces. Also, it made me miss the days when I actually left my house for fun reasons.
I LOL’d at the comment about your 9-y-o being somehow patronizing 😆. I have been there! 🙋🏼♀️And I am definitely up for reading that essay collection someday!