New Year, New Newsletter
Hello, dear reader,
As 2018 comes to a close, a dumpster fire of a year, I am re-evaluating a lot of things, including my newsletter and how I've been reaching out and writing to you, dear reader.
You might have noticed I sent less letters this year. There were lots of reasons for this. I was finishing and then promoting a book (Sexism Ed!). I was working to get a handle on my mental health, which remains a work in progress. I helped launch and now edit a new magazine, Disability Acts. I was working on other books (zombies! zombies! zombies!) and book proposals. And this year, I needed to keep my attention and energy on my family. All of this to say, 2018 was a lot.
It was not the best year, and I am painfully aware that other folks have had it so much worse. Sometimes, we have a hard year or years. Sometimes, we are just glad for them to be over. Sometimes, we learn something from the hard. Sometimes, we don't know or plan or prepare. Sometimes, we have to be still and sit with what's happening in our lives. Sometimes, we have to reckon with our place in the universe. Sometimes, we don't want to reckon.
And back to this newsletter, I have decided to move it from Tiny Letter to Substack. And due to the wonders of technology, I am able to move your subscription, so you don't have to lift a finger. Here's a glimpse, if you want to see what's happening. Please note that the content of the newsletter will remain the same; everything will just be at another site. (Thank goodness). And still free!
So, thanks for sticking it out with this newsletter. I am glad that I can write for you, and I am even gladder that I can continue to write for you.
I often think of that moment in We Are in a Book! by Mo Willems, in which Gerald (and I am a Gerald) notes that he just wants to be read. When I read that book for the first time to my kids, that line made me tear up . I knew Gerald's plight and recognized that frantic note that coated his words. Being read is privilege, and no writer is ever guaranteed readers. We often write having no idea if anyone will pick up our books orj read through an essay. We never know what might land or resonate. We never know what happens to our words when they are out in the world. To be read, then, is a joy that I come back to again and again. Thanks for bringing me joy.
Here's to hoping that 2019 is a better year for all of us.
Best wishes to you, dear reader, and happy holidays.
Kelly