Hi readers!
For this round of posts, I really got personal. There was my viral article that really resonated with readers that told the personal story of the struggle to be yourself amidst the chaos of raising tiny humans.
Once Upon a Time, Your Parents Were Human
“Ready for some therapy?”
I was seated at my mother’s kitchen table and my heart pounded in anticipation of what she’d say. There were things she’d held inside for 20 years and more. I was much older now. Our relationship was stronger now. It was safe to divulge all the secrets she had been keeping…
When I arrived home after giving birth, I had no idea what to do with my daughter. I laid her down in her new crib in a spotless master bedroom. “What should we do with her?” I asked my husband.
“I don’t know. Wait until she cries or poops.” He shrugged and went to empty my hospital bag. I dutifully sat on the edge of the bed and stared at a brand new human who never existed before. She was so small, so cocooned and comfortable as she squirmed in her sleep. I waited and watched. It was a surreal moment when I had borne the abdominal trauma of an unplanned Caesarean section. Now I was scared of stretching too much and remained hunched on the bed.
Maybe I sat there for a few minutes. I can’t remember. But I finally got up to use the bathroom. Just as I carefully lowered myself onto the toilet, she started crying.
“Laaaaaa!!!” Read more.
Next, there was my personal struggle with writer’s clog, where I have tons of little idea fragments I can chase down before they blow away that I don’t know where to start sometimes. If I get going with a single project, the clog also prevents me from completing those projects. There’s so many ways a story can go! Wait what if I added time travel?? 🤦🏾♀️
A Different Problem: Writer’s Clog
I, on the other hand, like to give things names. The thing itself becomes demystified and I am able to choose its meaning. When I do not have the language to describe what bothers me, it breeds confusion, frustration, and anxiety. Lately, I’d been in a heightening state I could not pinpoint. I volleyed from file to file, writing bits here and there, sometimes writing a piece in one sitting and publishing, other times collecting a few new ideas I would later develop.
But this menagerie of literary fragments felt like a stack of assignments I would never complete. They were all wonderful and small but open-ended. Before I could concentrate on exploring those ideas, a new, very attractive one would emerge. As a result, I had a bunch of potential energy but nothing that moved. I would close my laptop, put away my phone, and grab a book to escape into another’s writer’s thoughts.
Then it finally hit me: I have writer’s…clog?
Lastly, there a short tale of unrequited love which we can all relate to. It’s tough holding in intense feelings you feel you cannot share with the other person.
Date Night
It had taken three outfit changes before Lauren was ready to leave the house. Then came the hurdle of makeup. She thought of what would look most… plausible and drew a quick winged eyeliner with a subtle bronze shadow. She gripped the bathroom counter and closed her eyes.
I meant to try that new red lipstick but I think it’s too much. It’s not me. She knows me. Giving up on more decision-making, Lauren slapped on old reliable and hurried out.
At the bar she was too wound up to fiddle with her phone. She picked at her nails and noticed how dry she’d left her hands. Frustrated with the tightness in her chest and near racing thoughts, she grabbed a paper menu and looked over options to seem more prepared. Read more.
New to my Substack: a public thread. How do you start a short story? A quiet and escalating crescendo? Detailed scene setting? Perhaps it’s inside a character’s thoughts. Let me know in the comments!
The next newsletter will premiere a very special essay series starting in September. Thanks for reading!