a pause.

gone through November.

Dear ones, 

I’m writing from the quiet of my Nana’s home in northern Georgia. Outside the trees are all browns and yellows and persistent greens, and I can make out just a bit of the lake that’s rumored to be full of ghosts. This weekend has been very special—it was my first visit to see her since she moved down here two years ago, and it’s possible that it will be my last visit with her, at least in human form. We are all aware of this, there’s an honesty about it that is sad, of course, but also profoundly anchoring. What I mean by that is that we’re all very present. The same distractions that exist at home exist here, but it’s felt almost portal-like in the way it’s been so easy to ignore them. I’ve hardly looked at my phone this weekend, only opened my laptop to get some grading done in a bit of downtime, and again now while Nana sleeps in. 

This means that I haven’t gotten my weekly newsletter out. And at some point in between meaningful conversations and listening to the leaves rustle I knew what I had to do: not insist on hours of uninterrupted work time on this trip in order to stay on schedule, but instead to take a pause. 

For the month of November, I will be pausing paid subscriptions to radical love letters. 

In addition to wanting to savor all the time I can this weekend, it’s also become clear to me that I cannot finish this book and keep the newsletter going while I’m also working a full-time job. There are a lot of great posts about the economics of book writing, but to illuminate some of it briefly: with very few exceptions, all writers have to work other jobs while writing books. The indie press that put out my first book offered a $3k advance in two payments, and this book, which will be released from another indie press, can only offer $2k upon completed manuscript (plus royalties, in both cases). There are so many benefits to writing books, but income tends not to be one of them. So we write in every possible moment that we’re not at our jobs. And for those of us with low-paying academic jobs and a household full of expensive health problems (hello!), we sometimes have to work multiple jobs. The newsletter is important income for me every month, but being present to my loved ones is important too, and so is finishing this book, and something, as they say, has got to give. 

The newsletter has to give, and so does Instagram. November will be as cave-like as I can make it. I will work my full time job, tend to my already-made obligations, and otherwise, I will finish.this.book. 

And then I’ll be back in December with some of my favorite newsletters to write: year end lists! Here are two from last year: the culture edition, and the personal. 

I know you’ll all understand, because I know my readers are some of the loveliest people out there. So thank you for being so great, for making it easy to trust that if I disappear for a bit, you’ll still be there for me on the other side. <3 

As I said, no one will be charged this month. However, especially if you’re not a paid subscriber, if you feel like buying me a coffee or tea this month, I will certainly accept the kindness! 

Venmo

Paypal

See you in December!

PS: Whatever happens on Tuesday, remember that we will always have the power to do the next right thing: to sow seeds, to take care of our neighbors, to slash ICE tires (or support those who do), to destroy the machinery of war & earth-poisoning (or support those who do), to tend to our bodies and our minds and our spirits, to make a meal, to sing a song….Remember that our dreams will never fit inside their ballot boxes, remember that we have more capacity to create change on any given day than we’re tricked to believing on November 5th. I love you. <3