An essay of mine was published this week. It’s been a while - almost a year. I averaged about 11 submissions every month in 2022 until summer hit. By then I was burned out on rejection. My kid had her summer break from school, and I decided to give myself a break, too.
This piece was written before the break, though, in February 2022. I had gone to my favorite cabin in the woods and sat with my memory and read the research I had brought and cranked out a much worse version of the essay that was printed. And then I sent it to my beloved writer friend who helped me rearrange and whittle it to what it is.
Then I hung onto it for a while. I don’t think I did so on purpose. Maybe I wasn’t sure it was ready or maybe I got busy writing about other bugs. (I’ve got quite a few bug essays that I hope to make into a collection.) I saw Belt put out a call for nature essays, and I sent them a different one, one about mayflies and my relationship with my father, an essay I have submitted nine times now, an essay that’s been rejected eight times.
Belt was one of those rejections. But their editor said he liked it, that it just wasn’t a fit. So I tried him again with woolly bears. It was the first time I had submitted it anywhere. “I dig your essay” was the answer I received. And I was happy. Because truth be told, I dig it, too.
It might be weird to be in love with your own writing, but I am in love with this piece. I am kind of in love with everything I write. Not everyone is, obviously, from the lack of pubs I’ve had this last year and the mounds of rejections in my submissions excel spreadsheet. But I love my writing, and I think that’s an important part of being a writer. It’s what keeps me going. I think I have important things to say, so I keep saying them. And sometimes, when I get lucky, someone else thinks what I have to say is important, too.
Even though the fall woolly bears have a more difficult life, have to die more times than their spring relatives, they do at least have a life. They travel away from their hatching place, and they see the world in light. They transform one way and then they transform another way. They know more than just one pile of leaves or the same black sky. They adapt.
- Me, “On Woolly Bear Caterpillars and Michiganders”
Saw this in a bowling alley bathroom while on a Valentine’s date with my husband. It’s appropriate that it’s a bit blurry. This was fourth stop, thus fourth drink of the night.
This all might sound a little crazy, I know. Or, if you’re a writer, maybe not. We are basically professional receptors of gifts given by the subconscious. One of our acquired skills is sitting for hours, positing the will of the subconscious. We can get pretty good at knowing what it needs from us.
- George Saunders, “George Saunders on Overcoming Uncertainty in Writing”
Received this Valentine from our library’s leadership team. Librarian humor, amiright?
Read Sarah Hunter Simanson’s Yahoo article this week about talking to kids about periods, and it really affected me. I try to be an aware feminist and act accordingly, but I’m also a child of the ‘90s with a Catholic family that didn’t talk about bodies, so there is still some ingrained shame there when it comes to menstruation. I won’t shy away from the conversation when my daughter asks, but I haven’t actively approached it with her, and I noticed last week, when I was on my period, that I still hide my menstrual products when I walk to and from the bathroom, curling a tampon up in my hand or packing a pad in my jeans pocket. Thanks to Sarah, I’ll be working on this from here on out.
Ultimately, the important thing for parents to remember is that teaching kids — boys and girls — about periods empowers them with the knowledge they need to take care of their bodies and helps them develop empathy for bodies unlike their own, which Carnagey believes is especially important if they become lawmakers who make healthcare decisions for other people.
- Sarah Hunter Simanson
What I Cooked This Week:
I tried this Slow Cooker Lentil Curry recipe and my daughter, who usually demands buttered noodles for dinner, ate her entire plate, and then ate leftovers the next night. I’d call that a win.
What I Watched This Week:
We were counting the days until Black Panther: Wakanda Forever came to Disney+. It has a great story and phenomenal acting. I loved that the strong women could be passionate and cry at the same time. No wonder Angela Bassett got nominated for an Oscar. But does anyone else find underwater movies weird?
What I Read This Week:
This beautifully written piece by Molly Tolsky about the hunger that comes with breastfeeding. Brought me back, and she says it way more eloquently than I ever could.
I choose to believe that it is not only the act of feeding my daughter that she finds beautiful, but the act of feeding myself. That the hunger alone is beautiful, the wanting, the need to fill in the spaces of my body that I empty out for somebody else.
- Molly Tolsky
And finally, some sad news out of my home state this week. There was a shooting at Michigan State University’s campus. This is horrifying for all the reasons you’d expect, but especially for it to happen so close to home. I used to be a college professor, and my heart goes out to anyone in education right now, whether they are working or learning or both. Something needs to be done already. As Michigan state representative Ranjeev Puri said, “Fuck your thoughts and prayers.”
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