What I Wrote in July (And Won't Write in August)
On work done and work put aside...
Good morning, friends! Or afternoon, or evening, or middle-of-the-night-when-you-can’t-sleep. I’m not judging.
I’m coming to your inbox a little early this month (my newsletter usually goes out on the 4th) because I want to let you know that I am taking the entire month of August as a rest period—no writing (except what may be required for school) and no social media. I need a break from screens and a break from productivity. (Well, a break from “extra” productivity beyond college classes and taking care of my son full-time. We’re not talking about 24/7 reclining with bonbons here.)
I often worry that if I stop working, stop doing, stop ticking things off my task list, other people will see me as lazy, unlikeable, and unworthy of their time. Written out in plain English, this looks as silly as it is. But you know those pictures captioned, “this is your brain on drugs?” Imagine that, but imagine that the brain won’t hold still for a picture; it’s rushing around trying to get everything done faster and better and more praiseworthily. That’s my brain on anxiety.
I’m working on it. I’d like to say I’ve made more progress than I really have (again with the productivity and completion mindset!). But one way to really shut it down, acknowledge my need for rest, lean in to the fact that I’m still me even when I’m not actively working on something… is to just stop.
At least for a little while.
I recently read a really compelling piece by Tsh Oxenreider about her annual break from the internet. Though I don’t think I’m going to take the exercise quite so far as she does (I still want to email my friends, look up recipes, reserve books at the library) I’m going to follow her example and take a month away from social media and writing online.
I so deeply identify with the worry that she lays out in this article: that if I disappear from the public writing sphere, I’ll lose touch with friends and be forgotten by the almighty social media algorithm and lose the “platform” I’ve so carefully built. But Oxenreider gently debunks this, pointing out that none of us are so indispensable as we’d like to believe.
Even for folks who don’t do their work via the internet, this lie of irrelevancy whispers relentlessly. If you’re not constantly consuming stuff online, then you won’t know the latest trends, the latest news, the latest argument, and therefore you won’t matter.
I so, so, so need frequent reminders of how small my life is, that I’m not that important, and that the few things that truly are important are not contingent on whether I take a month to take care of myself.
So, here’s to a break! I plan to spend my free time this coming month reading, and sewing a bit, and baking strawberry-rhubarb desserts, and reading some more, and starting the fall semester (already?? already!) of my continued English degree, and resting in the moments in between. Not reaching for my phone. Not adding words to a document in progress. Just being.
Oh, and fulfilling requests for milk. Because that’s a constant thing in an uncertain world.
I really didn’t spend a lot of time talking on the phone in July, for reasons expounded upon below.
I also read a lot of children’s books aloud, and maybe I thought too much about them? idk
Just so we’re clear, I love my son more than life itself. I do not love being awakened at stupid o’ clock.
The child is nothing if not agreeable.
I married my husband because he’s a wonderful person, but also because he’s very good at snarking at really weird stuff we spot in the wild.
Here are a few other pieces I enjoyed this past month (by the way, I highly recommend signing up for newsletters and Substacks, LIKE THIS ONE, rather than depending on the tetchy social media algorithms to deliver your favorite writers’ work to you):
The Library Keeps Making Me Cry by Amber Sparks
"And as long as I still feel that pull toward the unknown, I too will keep writing toward it, even if I know I can’t live there forever."
Blessed Boredom by Joy Clarkson in Plough
“The noise of the world, the demands of work, and the entreaties of social life follow us wherever we go, through the persistent buzzing of our phones. It’s not that we don’t have free time, it’s simply that that time is filled with the empty noise of constant connection and information. We are never alone. We are never bored. Paradoxically, we often feel lonely and empty.”
(This piece, and others like it, have cemented my choice to not see Netflix’s new Persuasion adaptation. Be forewarned, lots of blue language ahead. Plenty of hilarity, too.)
Persuasion (2022) is a Hate Crime by Brandon Taylor
"That is what makes Persuasion so beautiful: Anne’s feeling of intractable hurt. That she caused hurt to Frederick and no matter how she is hurt by his actions now, she feels that it’s all fair. She’s brought it on herself. She blames herself.
And I guess the film’s way of exteriorizing this is to have her drink wine and pine listlessly."
(I apologize if this piece is behind The Atlantic's paywall for any of you—try opening it in an incognito browser if you can—but it resonated so much with me that I simply had to share it. My son isn't yet old enough for much exploration beyond the length of my arm, and yet he pulls against that constantly and wants so much to just run free. The older he gets, the more decisions I will have to make about what independence to allow him. We are urban-adjacent with few free grassy spaces for him to run. How do I handle this? I don't know. But knowing I am not handling it alone helps, somehow.)
Cities Aren’t Built for Kids by Stephanie H. Murray in The Atlantic
“The difficulty of raising a child in a city is not unique to the United States, but it mirrors the strain of American parenting in general: Kids are sidelined by policy makers, and that creates unnecessary burdens for parents. … Because there are so few ways for kids to handle boredom and loneliness independently—other than on the internet—many parents must continually scramble to arrange playdates and register their kids for activities.”
(An excellent satire on conflicting information at this Very Formative Time. I laughed out loud. A lot.)
Toddler Discipline Made Easy by Julie Vick in McSweeney’s Internet Tendency
“Only offer your toddler what you eat for dinner. Don’t be a short order cook. When they refuse and claim they are hungry an hour later say, ‘You had a chance to eat that bone marrow and charred octopus at dinner time and now you are hungry. This is your natural consequence.’ Be a short order cook. Make several small plates — some with food they like and some with food shaped like animals they like. When they eat one grape that was forming the fruit caterpillar’s eye, ask if they want dessert.”
And here is what I wrote in July!
Jane Austen in the DMs; Or, Merrily Confusing Weird Guys on the Internet, a self-published breakdown (with screenshots!) of how I handle Internet trolls. (This was a break from my usual fare but was a lot of fun to write and I hope it’s fun to read, too.)
My Name is Mama in A Parent is Born
One of my goals mentioned in my last newsletter was that of experimenting with shortform, and I’m pleased with how this unusual-for-me exercise turned out.
Questions That I Fervently Hope Will Be Answered in Season Three of “Bluey” in Frazzled
My family loves this show—even though only 1/3 of our number actually fits the target age demographic—and we’re very excited for season three. But I have some questions, outlined in this humor piece, that DESPERATELY need answers.
Dear Google, Please Tell Me What to Do With My Newborn All Day in Pregnant Chicken
I was delighted to make my Pregnant Chicken debut this month, and even more delighted that they chose to feature my story about anxiety and boredom in my earliest days of parenthood (and it’s still featured a week later!).
“A Tree Grows in Brooklyn” Has Almost No Plot, and That’s Kind of the Point in The Book Cafe
Another goal from last month was to write at least one book review, and I squeaked this one—about an old favorite—in just under the wire!
Have a lovely August, friends (and family). Thanks for being here, even when I’m not “here” (well, online that is; I’m still here on EARTH). I hope this next month is restful for you, too, and that we’ll meet again in September feeling relaxed and refreshed!
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P.S. From the archives…
One of My Tweets Went Viral. Here Are Five Things I Learned. from 2021
My Son Will Be Privileged From the Moment He’s Born from 2020