Limbo Year
Hello, friends. Still here. I’ve started to write this newsletter any number of times in the last couple of months, but something always drags me away. Sitting here now, my working title still reads “April Newsletter” along the top of the page.
I’m no longer surprised by time moving quickly. We may not be done with the pandemic, but gone are those weird endless days we experienced in 2020. What I have noticed, however, is this year feels particularly… full. Jam-packed, even. Along with my normal routine, I’ve found there’s a lot vying for my attention. On the writers’ front, we have the insane, escalating book bans, the numerous layoffs of journalists, and now the WGA strike for screenwriters. Then there’s the rise of AI, something I know I need to understand better, but for which I have very limited mental bandwidth and absolutely no time. Never mind tracking the broader political landscape and ramping up of the electoral cycle. (Didn’t we just do this?)
Currently, I’m juggling long-distance caretaking of an elderly-but-stubborn parent with maintaining a semblance of my own responsibilities, projects, and sanity. I have to remind myself that this newsletter is something I began for myself, to fill something of my need to scribble, to chat with all of you, to have a quiet corner away from the chaos. It’s a good reminder. When I remember. Some things just weigh more heavily on your mind, shadowing everything else, and “don’t be so hard on yourself” or “you’re doing the best you can” come as well-meant but ultimately ineffective attempts at comfort. I am resigned to living in this in-between place where so many things are out of my control, and all I can do is put one foot in front of the other. Call it a limbo year. All of this to say: I am sorry it’s been awhile.
“You don’t have to burn books to destroy a culture. Just get people to stop reading them.” Ray Bradbury
Is it strange to discuss what I read last year from where we sit at the start of May? So be it. 2022 was the year I tossed away the expectations of setting an annual reading goal, and with that firmly in my rearview mirror, I can say it was a good decision for me. I finished the year having read about 30 books beyond work-related reading, and while the book lover in me might wish I’d managed more, I felt happy with my choices. Instead of reading to some self-imposed dictum, I allowed myself the freedom to read according to my mood. I haven’t done that in years, and it brought to mind summer breaks during college, when I finally had time to indulge in titles far from any course syllabus. It didn’t end up being a year for many stand-out reads, but I still found a few new favorites.
I started off with Susanna Clarke’s Piranesi, which was wonderfully twisty and puzzling and so visually amazing that I suspect it set the bar too high. Later in the year, I read Sea of Tranquility by Emily St. John Mandel, whose writing I tend to appreciate but not get on with beyond that, with, apparently this one exception, because I really enjoyed it. I only realized most of the way through that it was meant as a follow-up to The Glass Hotel, so I read that afterward and didn’t love it nearly as much. So now, of course, I wonder if I’d feel differently if I read them the right way around. Ah well, maybe a reread for the future.
I kicked off the new year with no expectations for my reading, mostly because I knew just how busy I was going to be and I didn’t need an added layer of guilt when I inevitably failed to read all the books I’d assigned myself. However, my life-long inner English major gave me a good poke, reminding me how many classics there were that I have never managed to read, so those made their way to a very unofficial to-read stack. As a result, I picked up Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray for the first time. This is one of those books where most everyone knows the basic premise courtesy of endless cultural references, so I’d never been in a hurry to actually read it, despite enjoying previous dips into Wilde’s work. Not only did I love it, but I was surprised just how relevant it felt in this day and age of online presence, where there’s such an unfortunate emphasis on looks and youth in relationship to success.
Sometime in mid-February, I finally read Emily Henry’s Book Lovers, in honor of that Hallmark holiday that falls around then. I’ve had mixed reactions to Henry’s earlier works, which on the surface sound like they should be precisely my thing but for whatever reason I didn’t love. Book Lovers, however, pushed all my buttons. I adored how it made gentle fun of romance tropes while still embracing them whole heartedly.
Most recently, I finished Tara M. Stringfellow’s Memphis, which was on this year’s long-list for the Women’s Prize for Fiction. It tells the story of a family through several generations of its women, all strong and gutsy and admirable, but the city of Memphis also serves as a character, specifically the neighborhood where the family lives. I loved the deep emotions and the relationships, even the difficult ones, and how Stringfellow depicts persistence in the face of adversity.
How is your reading year treating you? Have you discovered any new favorites? I’d love to hear what you’re enjoying or what books on your TBR stack have you excited.
On the business side of the desk, I know at least some of you will be happy to hear I plan to reopen to submissions at the start of June. It will likely just be for the month, as I anticipate something of a deluge of queries. But if you’ve been patiently watching the status of my QueryManager, mark your calendar.
I’m also excited to announce that I will be offering a new online course soon on synopsis writing. This is something I’ve been poking at for a long time. I’ve taught it live online and also in person in various incarnations, but this iteration will combine the best of all versions as well as adding support materials, and students will be able to access and complete it in their own time. More details to come in the next few days in all the usual places.
And finally, I’ll be on faculty this August for the Futurescapes 100-Page Virtual Workshop. Spaces are extremely limited—just five writers per group—so if it’s something you might be interested in, I recommend checking out the details ASAP and submitting your application.
A few more links to share:
Top 13 Most Challenged books of 2022 - A brief look at just a few of the titles currently under fire.
Women’s Prize for Fiction 2023 - Both the long-list and the short-list have been announced. Have you read any of them?
Hollywood Hit with Writers Strike after Talks with AMPTP Fail; Guild Slams Studios for “gig Economy” Mentality - A quick overview of the situation.
On Creating a Board Game That Is Also a Work of Literature - A fascinating look inside the process of creating a board game from the classic Mary Shelley novel, Frankenstein.
Storyville: What We Can Learn from Reading Bad Fiction - Food for thought.
“Every Border Is a Story.” On Dividing Lines Both Real and Imagined - A timely look at the relationship between borders of all sorts and the stories we write… or tell ourselves.
UC-Berkeley Students Occupy Anthropology Library - Students fight to preserve one of the few libraries dedicated to anthropology in the nation, and the politics behind their efforts.
Currently in my tea cup:
Currently on my nightstand:
HOW TO FAKE IT IN HOLLYWOOD by Ava Wilder
That’s all for now. Thank you so much for reading. As always, please do comment or drop a note. I hope you’re having a wonderful start to May and that life is treating you well. Until next time.🥰