Summertime and the living is really weird (Plus: I am reading at the NYC Poetry Festival *tomorrow,* 7/12, at 12:30 pm)

(Cross-posted from my Substack)

The day before my Brooklyn book launch for Cosmic Tantrum, I found a raccoon’s jawbone in the park. This is not the first time a bone has presented itself to me on a walk. I thought I don’t need that and tried to walk away, but I was lying and I couldn’t. So I pocketed it.

Fifty paces later, I was reunited with a glove I’d been missing since last spring. Someone put it on top of a fence like a flag. (Thank you, stranger.) I hadn’t recognized it at first as mine—my raccoon brain just noticed an object of interest, the way it always does. An object out of place! My object out of place!

Launching my collection and going on tour felt a little like that—being at the right place at the right time many months after setting something in motion. Following breadcrumbs. Finding something I didn’t know was lost, or that I had learned to live without.


(Brief interruption here: I am reading at the New York City Poetry Festival on Governors Island tomorrow, July 12th, at 12:30 pm, with Sweet Action Poetry collective. We will be at the Beckett Stage. Come hang out, New York! Ferry deets here. Festival deets here.)


Other than touring and getting to talk poetry, consciousness, and brattiness at all the fantastic journals and podcasts I’ll list below, I’ve spent most of the past months just putting one foot in front of the other. Maybe you have, too. I love editing, but working for myself is a balancing act on a good month, and is even harder when the background frequency of life is chaos, the snip-snap of wars and tariffs, disgusting attempts to eradicate trans people, the normalization of kidnapping. I’m pretty sickened and also I guess not surprised that elected officials want to defund basically every public service and safety net to increase the budget for ICE, an organization that anyone could pretend to be part of right now, as masked and badge-less individuals abduct American citizens and disappear people to El Salvador.

On bad days, I ask myself why any of us make anything, and what the point of art could possibly be when people struggle to have their basic needs met, and to have any access to peace or calm. My poetry collection is about lots of things, but one important thread is that when a system is dysfunctional enough and you have tried to change it over and over again from different angles and approaches, to no avail, sometimes you can find peace only by leaving. That can work for relationships, workplaces, apartments. But lately the dysfunction feels like A Lot and From Too Many Simultaneous Directions.

I don’t have answers. But this is what I think about when I ask myself Why bother?

  • Because creating fictional worlds flexes our possibility muscles.

  • Because it’s not possible to write an interesting character without understanding—and, to at least some degree, sympathizing with—their perspective.

  • Because writing memoir requires honest engagement with our shortcomings and our capacity to grow.

  • Because writing anything good requires the ability to see the big picture in the small details and vice versa, and to understand how structure creates meaning.

  • Because reading about and falling in love with an imperfect character can give us compassion for those faults in ourselves and others.

  • Because creative writing is a practice of meaning-seeking and -making, a quest to understand and to share that understanding.

  • Because curiosity is the antidote to contempt.

  • Because contempt will kill us.

  • Because we turn to poetry during life’s big transitions—weddings, funerals—when everyday language feels insufficient.

  • Because there’s nothing so enchanting as following the movement of associative thought, as poetry allows, and finding yourself changed by the experience.

  • Because reading their writing connects us with people who lived hundreds of years ago.

  • Because I am always moved almost to tears when I see ancient handwriting. Maybe you are, too.

  • Because people of the future will want to know what real people thought, not just what the papers printed.

  • Because attention is a currency and we should spend it on each other.


Questions/thoughts/experiments:

Experiment:

It was a few weeks ago now, but in honor of the solstice, I’m riffing on a visualization exercise I learned from Liza Fenster (Crow Mother), for remembering the light you carry at your center. Imagine you have X-ray vision and can see a flame inside your body, near your tailbone. This is your own personal sun. Think of it like a battery. When you inhale, picture that flame climbing. On your first inhale, it climbs as high as your belly button. On the next, as high as your heart. Then your throat. Then your forehead. Then the top of your head. How does that glow feel as it takes up more and more space in your body? Does it have any lingering effects?

What does it do for your creative work if you power up like this before starting it?

Question:

This is an old favorite from Jessa Reed, for when you feel stuck about what decision to make, in your art or in your life: Which option would you choose, what path would you take, if no one would be mad at you?


It’s been so sweet and surreal to see my book out in the world, and to talk to friends and family who aren’t usually poetry-readers who’ve been excited about it!

I’m very grateful to Brooklyn Poets, Northwestern University Press, AWP 2025, The Ninth House shop, The Booksmith, Bishop & Wilde, and Open Books: A Poem Emporium for hosting me for events, and to these writers who agreed to read and/or be in conversation with me: Lauren Milici, Leigh Stein, Lena Moses-Schmitt, AngieDoe, Megan Pinto, Jes Baker, Maggie Tokuda-Hall, Sage Danielle Curtis, Joe Wadlington, Preeti Vangani, Sally Ashton, Ellee Achten, Genevieve DeGuzman, Julia Gaskill, Jessica E. Johnson, Mattilda Bernstein Sycamore, and Gabrielle Bates! Thank you all for a fantastic first book tour.

A fall tour might be in the cards? I have a few other stops in mind but nothing set yet. If you’re interested in setting up an event with me in your area, and/or inviting me to your classroom or school, give me a shout.


As referenced above, here’s my List of Links to Cosmic Tantrum podcasts, interviews, essays, reading lists, etc.:

Podcast interview at Bevin: A Femme Over 40 and Her Friends

Interview at The Rumpus

Interview at Electric Literature

Essay at Write or Die on Gilmore Girls, Grey Gardens, and the mother wound

Essay at Literary Hub on the speaker as a mask, poetry as a ritual space

Reading list at Electric Literature, 10 books with scorpio/eighth house energy

Three poems on the Debutiful podcast, First Taste series

Three poems at DMQ Review’s Virtual Salon

The Best Debut Books of 2025 (So Far) at Debutiful

Best Poetry of 2024 and 2025 at Ms. magazine

Most Anticipated at Debutiful

What to Read in 2025 at 303Magazine

Most Anticipated at Electric Literature

Most Anticipated at Write or Die

New Poetry feature at Philly Chapbook

New Books feature at Literary Hub

And I can’t resist including this post-pub blurb from a master of the tragicomic mode, Lemony Snicket:

“This is such a terrific book—so generous and marvelous as it careens (but carefully!) from place to place.” —Daniel Handler, a.k.a. Lemony Snicket, author of And Then? And Then? What Else?

If you read and loved Cosmic Tantrum, tell your friends! (If you didn’t like it, keep it to yourself! lol) And consider leaving a review on Amazon, Goodreads, and/or The StoryGraph—this helps strangers find it. If you’re a writer and reviewer, consider pitching a review at a journal that accepts post-publication coverage? Thank you, friends.

Holding Space (for your work)—I started a Patreon!

(cross-posted from my Substack)

It’s that time of year again! Feeling sad/SAD about the scarcity of daylight and bemoaning that night begins at 4:30 pm! (Cue “It’s the Most Wonderful Time…”)

I know I’m not alone in this, at this moment or historically, given how many light-themed festivals and holidays coexist in the last quarter of the year—Diwali, Hanukkah, and Saint Lucia’s Day (yes, I’m thinking about American Girl dolls) among them. I picture my ancestors checking their winter stores of canned and salted food, and facing down fifteen hours of darkness for weeks at a time, and I understand the holy importance of sparkle lights and indulgent little sweets.

Two years ago, I visited Germany and had the Christmas market—Weihnachtsmarkt—experience, eating part of a whole salmon smoked on a log in front of me, riding a Ferris wheel, and drinking tiny mug after tiny mug of gluhwein. The Weihnachtsmarkt is not a one-night thing, but a gathering space set up for weeks. Beyond offering gifts and knickknacks for sale, the temporary space feels like a cozy outdoor bar. On a list of recommended markets to try, someone commented something to the effect of: “It’s the terrible dark cold time of year again—we need these artificial lights and blazing fireplaces and hot wine so badly!” I liked that phrasing, that it’s not pointless carousing but a deep human NEED for cheer, more necessary when the atmosphere is bleak.


I want to know: What sources of light are sustaining you this autumn-into-winter?

One bright spot for me this fall was the first few minutes of each Book Club Workshop class, checking in human to human as each person signed in, and talking about our in-progress projects.

I think our lives and our creative work exist in symbiosis: feeding one part feeds the other. It’s easy to think that the creative part is not important, or that it can be the last priority—that we’ll get around to it later. But my life feels better, lighter, less unwieldy when I tend to this part of me. It’s that cheer-in-winter feeling: necessary. If you’re a person with the urge to create, you probably need to tend this flame, too, to feel fully alive.

That’s why I’ve created a virtual gathering space for us.

  • Are you a creative with great ideas but can’t seem to make time to work on them?

  • Are you a recovering people-pleaser who can keep appointments with other people but not with yourself?

  • Are you neurospicy in a way that makes a fixed routine (even for things you want to do) feel like a burden?

  • Does body doubling help you get shit done?

Then I made this for you!

Holding Space (for your work)

is a group for getting around to it now and it looks like this:

  • I hold the space and you show up, in whichever configuration of the schedule works for you. “Rise & grind” is not how my energy or creativity works, and is not the only way to complete a project. Pick one of the morning sessions weekly? Cool. Pick just the final half hour of both evening sessions? Also cool. Put Holding Space (for your work) on your calendar as a promise to yourself, and an excuse that protects your time: “I already have plans then.”

  • Each gathering is divided into pomodoro sessions: 25 minutes of working followed by 5-minute breaks. Gatherings will also include creative prompts, meant to be helpful if you don’t already have a project underway :)

  • Every week, I’ll pull cards for a Creative Work Forecast, a way of thinking about and through our projects and our relationship to creating that week.

  • I’ll post accountability and celebration threads each new moon and full moon, where anyone who wants to can share your creative goals and wins.

  • A monthly Q&A post will answer questions about writing, editing, publishing, staying motivated/curious, and anything else you might want to know about following creative rhythms and sharing work with an audience.

  • We’ll have a monthly visit from a special guest—an author, agent, editor, or other creative (filmmaker, visual artist)—on Zoom, with a recording for subscribers who can’t make it.

I’m soft-launching the group this month! You can sign up here. I’m not scheduling a guest this first month, so anyone who signs up in December will receive a discount for your first month as a thank you.

(Note that, because of some weird new Apple Store rules, subscriptions made through the Patreon app cost more than subscriptions made through your browser, so sign up through your browser!)


One publication I neglected to mention in my last newsletter was this: Northwestern University Press invited me to do a tarot reading for their fall season. You can read it here.


That’s all from me for now as I wrap up the year! I’m looking ahead to February, when Cosmic Tantrum will be out. Media friends, if you are interested in a review copy, let me know.

Curiosity & Ritual newsletter gets a shoutout in Electric Literature

Many thanks to Nancy Reddy for including my Substack newsletter, Curiosity & Ritual, in this roundup of “8 Newsletters to Spark Your Creativity.”



For the full article, including additional newsletter recs, click here.

To subscribe to Curiosity & Ritual, click here.


If you’re looking for feedback on a completed book-length manuscript, stuck-in-the-middle book-length manuscript, or individual story or essay—or you’re looking for accountability and feedback while drafting your book-length manuscript—I’d love to work with you. Fill out my contact form here.

Announcing Book Club Workshop!

I’m teaching a class, you guys

(cross-posted from my Substack)

One curiosity I’ve had since childhood is what it’s like to live another life, and the ritual that lets me do it is reading. I used to get a little carried away. (Apparently you’re not supposed to read novels at the dinner table, or during math.)

Fast-forward to my adulthood and reading still occupies most of my time. I’ve read thousands of published books by this point. Between client projects and my acquiring editor days, I’ve also read hundreds of not-yet-published books.

So many unpublished novel manuscripts (that have beautiful prose, interesting settings, and charming characters) feel like they’re missing some subtle, subterranean wiring. Readers can watch a character experience a big emotion but not necessarily feel invested or emotionally impacted ourselves—especially if we haven’t been primed to hope for or dread any specific actions or outcomes.

Plot points are satisfying when (forgive me)…they don’t just fall out of a coconut tree. When they exist in the context of all in which they live and what came before them.

I’m saying you can get tricky and go back and reverse-engineer that context.

You know who’s great at doing that? Poets! For poets, the structure of a work (how it is told) is essential to the meaning of the work. So when poets write novels, those novels tend to be cool as hell. They satisfy reader cravings for structure but often in unusual ways.

I could teach a class on this, I thought. Participants could read two different novels as part of a wider study on structure—and, through that study, create outlines for their own novels. A book club, but not a regular book club. A workshop, but not a regular workshop.

This idea has been turning over in my mind for months now. I made a syllabus but tucked it aside for a rainy day, then took

Esmé Weijun Wang’s excellent workshop on online workshops (more of her classes here) and decided that the time is now. (Thank you, Esmé!)

Book Club Workshop is born!

This first iteration is focused on novels by poets, specifically Monarch by Candice Wuehle (which I had the pleasure of acquiring and editing for Soft Skull Press) and Candelaria by Melissa Lozada-Oliva (which I had the pleasure of reading and enjoying). We’ll also talk about some poems, John Truby’s The Anatomy of Story, and Jane Alison’s Meander, Spiral, Explode.

Class meets on Zoom and starts August 13th. Candice and Melissa will join as special guests for the final class on October 22nd! (You could have a full outline in time for NaNoWriMo.)

~ * ~ Full deets here. * ~ *

I’d really appreciate help spreading the word if you can!

Interview with Brad Neely at X-R-A-Y Literary Magazine

A real dream come true to chat with Brad Neely about his funny and philosophical new book, You, Me, & Ulysses S. Grant, hero narratives, cults, and meat-bodies. Many thanks to Brad, and to X-R-A-Y for hosting the interview! For the whole shebang, click here.