What I’m Reading
Barbara Kingsolver’s Flight Behavior—for the opportunity to examine another text that contemplates the unfortunate revelations of an insect extinction.
Has anyone checked on the lady bugs lately?
Biostats kills Creativity
And other excuses for the lack of updates.
As some of you know, along with noveling, I’m also working on a doctoral degree in public health—in my primary line of work, I really need a terminal degree, and after managing several public health emergencies, it seemed sensible to specialize in that. That being said, math has always been an Achilles’ heel, so I’ve been giving this statistical reasoning course my full attention (unfortunately.)
More to come when this term is complete.
Madman, Architect, Carpenter, Judge
In order to offset some of the tuition expenses, I serve as a TA in some of the public health writing courses at the Johns Hopkins University (not to be confused with JHU’s MFA or undergraduate writing courses.) In these courses, we use The Harvard Business Review’s Guide to Better Business Writing as a text. Though the guide isn’t focused on creative writing, I still find their writing process framework to be generally useful:
Step 1: be a "madman" by brainstorming ideas and gathering facts.
Step 2: be an architect, creating an outline from those ideas.
Step 3: be a carpenter, building a first draft quickly without stopping to self-edit.
Step 4: acts as a judge and makes several editing passes.
Having spent last six months inspecting every nail in my novel (and even completing some serious custom renovations!), I’m more than ready to clear the docket and put my hammer to rest. I enjoy the architectural work the most, and I’m looking forward to getting back to some of that this summer after a good session this spring as a literary madwoman.
Fits and Starts
I finished a new draft last night. I love finishing new drafts. Sure, the heavy lift of editing still lies ahead, but the birth of a manuscript can be counted as complete. That, to me, is the hardest part. The easiest place to give up. But it’s done now, and the story is fully formed. That doesn’t mean it cannot or will not change. But it’s done. At least for now.
While those words rest, I’m on to other things. This week, I’m finishing up some classes on craft, and starting some new ones as well. I’m wrapping up an old job and preparing for something new on the work front, too. To cap it all off, tomorrow I’m taking the train to NYC to meet with my agents.
It sill feels very surreal.
What I’m reading
I wish I had the literary backbone to attempt to read Homer’s Iliad, but alas, I cower.
Instead, I’m reading Madeline Miller’s The Song of Achilles. The change of perspective is adding so much depth to something I thought I understood.
Announcement
Beyond excited to announce that The End of Everything Beautiful has sold to Amazon’s literary fiction imprint, Little A, to be published in 2025.
I’ll be celebrating by indulging in Florence + The Machine’s Cosmic Love for the 8,376th time (if TEOEB had a theme song, this would be it.)
The photo? An important set piece. Looking forward to sharing it with you soon.
And so it begins
Excited to be breaking ground on a new novel this month. As many writers know, it can be helpful to have a song or a playlist to get in the right headspace for writing. Here’s what’ll be in my speakers as I get started on a mythologically-inspired story about power, justice, and revenge in the Southern Appalachians.
Maui Wildfire Relief
Authors, agents, and publishers have pulled together to create a relief auction for those affected by the Lāhainā wildfires. Please consider making a bid on one of the many unique literary items, services, and experiences here.
What I’m Reading
“this is the recipe of life
said my mother
as she held me in her arms as I wept
think of those flowers you plant
in the garden each year
they will teach you
that people too
must wilt
fall
root
rise
in order to bloom”
Between shuttling the kids between swim lessons and grabbing groceries for the grill, my family’s summer schedule barely leaves me time to read two pages. To make those pages count, I indulge in Rupi Kaur’s poetry. Her work lands its emotional punches like an expert boxer: simple, heavy lines leave you dizzy with loss, grief, and introspection. Whatever I read resonates in my soul for the rest of the day, and just two pages can leave me gasping for breath.
I’ve never felt quite so hungry for heartbreak.