This winter is kicking my ass. I am DRAGGING. It’s partly the brutal cold, it’s partly some health stuff, but it’s mostly the state of the world.
I’m heartsick over the violence ICE has perpetrated and the fear that our immigrant and urban communities are living under, particularly in Minneapolis. I’m worried about voter suppression, the SAVE Act, and whether we will have free and fair midterm elections. I’m outraged over the breadth and scope of the Epstein files. How could that many men abuse that many girls? How could so many people participate in the cover-up for so many years?
I fear I’m personally not courageous enough for this moment in history. That I lack the energy and optimism needed to make a real difference in this unprecedented time. I’ve been thinking a lot about what it means to be courageous, in particular as a writer and editor.
And all these thoughts have been paralyzing. Maybe you’re feeling paralyzed too? If you are, please let me know. In the meantime, here are 8 small things I’ve done to combat feelings of helplessness and despair. If you only read one, please read the first. I really need your help with it.
Building Community: I believe it’s an important time to focus on building and sustaining the communities we care about. To this end, Ihope you will join me at a Split Lip Magazine & Friends reading to benefit CHARM: Voices of Baltimore Youth. The event will take place offsite at the AWP Conference, Thursday, March 5, from 7-9pm in Baltimore. CHARM is a very special non-profit that helps young people develop as writers. We are excited to harness the larger AWP community to support the local Baltimore literary community, to listen to some incredibly talented authors read their work, and to spend time together in a meaningful way. It’s going to be a great night, and I’d personally be so grateful if you could attend. I will be MC’ing the event.
We are asking folks to RSVP (with a small $10-or-more suggested donation, but if you can’t afford that, please come anyway). Authors and publishers have generously donated books to be sold at the event with all proceeds going to CHARM. If you can’t attend, please consider donating here.
Reading little books: A state of heightened anxiety has sent my concentration into the gutter. I’ve dealt with this by reading shorter books. Three tiny ones I loved lately: THE SLICKS by Maggie Nelson about Taylor Swift, Sylvia Plath, and “female abundance and power,” STILL LIFE WITH OYSTERS AND LEMON by Mark Doty, a beautiful, lyrical work about still-life and life-life, and I DO KNOW SOME THINGS by Richard Siken, a brilliant collection of prose poetry about Siken’s recovery from stroke and so much more.
Helping someone else with their work. In January, I just could not make myself write. I tried. I failed. So instead, I read and provided comments on someone else’s novel manuscript. Hiring an editor on a project of this size can cost thousands of dollars. Many writers simply cannot afford it. Doing it as a gift to a friend made me feel a lot better. Sometimes when I feel my worst, the best thing to do is help someone else. It gives meaning to the days. I was lucky that this particular manuscript was a beautiful, funny page-turner.
Flipping the Vote: My dear friend Josh Anderson joined the board of Flip the Vote and has encouraged me to get involved too. The organization is fundraising to support local grassroots civic engagement groups as a way to take meaningful action toward winning elections. If you are interested in learning more, please reach out to me. I’d be happy to share a link for an upcoming online event about Flip the Vote taking place the evening of February 25th. Also, please read this fascinating New Yorker article which does an excellent job describing and making the case for Flip the Vote’s approach.
Watching out for tiny big things: I’m trying to use my eyes better, like to really use them. To be on the lookout for the beauty or weirdness or unexpected delight in the most ordinary objects. For instance, here is a close-up I took of the white line of a crosswalk. When you zoom in, it’s freaking modern art or something. Look at all the interesting lines and shapes! Look at all the history told in this little patch of road. It’s like cells under a microscope or my own skin in winter or a map of a secret place I’d like to visit. Suddenly crossing the street from my block to the next became interesting again.
Looking at actual art: I went with my college kid to see the Helen Frankenthaler paintings on the second floor lobby at MOMA. We both love this work. As Brandon Taylor once said to me on social media, Helen is mother. Go see this exhibit, friends! I also had the great pleasure of visiting another genius painter, Wendy Fulenwider Liszt, at her studio in Brooklyn before two big shows of her paintings. What a gift to get to see this fascinating and beautiful work in its natural habitat before it was set loose on the world and to hear Wendy wax poetic about it alongside the smell of fluorescent oil paints and dust from her power sander. I’m planning to visit her show at McBride / Dillman this month; if you want to join me, reach out.
More reading: I loved Lonely Crowds by Stephanie Wambugu, a captivating coming-of-age novel about a woman painter in a very complicated, messed up relationship. I especially gobbled up the scenes set at Bard College, where my own child will be graduating this spring! Yes, women painters are on my brain; I’m spending a lot of time thinking about the main character of my next novel, who is also, you guessed it, a woman painter.
Finding your village: SmokeLong Quarterly recently started a nifty online gathering place for writers called The Village, and I encourage people who write flash fiction to join. I’m so excited about it that I participated in their very first editor interview, which you can find in their flash journal channel. In it, I share some secrets about the Split Lip Magazinesubmissions process and call K-Ming Chang a genius after my experience editing her work.
Old Lady Abs: I’ve been doing what I affectionately call “Old Lady Abs,” but what are really just strength training exercises for the whole body. I’ve discovered that by down-scaling my exercise goals, I actually exercise more—and more often. Almost daily, in fact. Perhaps this is a metaphor for life.
Instead of trying to get to a gym for an hour, I roll out a yoga mat in my bedroom and start with three sets of four different exercises. It takes about ten minutes. If those exercises feel good, I do three sets of four more exercises. If that feels good, I do a little more. I stop whenever I feel like it. I set no goals. I am very lazy about the whole thing. Sometimes I just lie on the mat and scroll my phone while listening to “Pink Pony Club.” Most of these exercises are standing abs or dying bugs, arm doohickeys with light weights, and PT thingamajigs for my bone-on-bone knees. I’m embarrassed to confess I find a lot of these exercises on Instagram. I’m truly basic. If you want in on the links, hit me up. I’ve been doing this for over six months, and it has actually made me stronger, helped my chronic knee pain, and made my old corduroys fit better. Illness sometimes sets me back for a few weeks. But, whatever.
Onward.
