Is it good to be a nonconformist, a dissenter, a rebel? I find that I generally don’t like doing things the way most other people do them, and I certainly don’t like doing things the way I’ve been told to do them, and all of this makes my life: messy.
No normal job, no normal pathway through the career I’ve chosen, no traditional track, no ambition to “build a platform” or write a book that will definitely sell or…the list goes on.
I just can’t seem to play the game as it’s meant to be played, or compete (ugh, competition), or follow the damn recipe. Follow the damn recipe, Robin! I say to myself every time I open my Substack, and see all the writers there writing their Substack posts, building their newsletter audiences, and I think: This is good. This is smart of them. Go writers! Look at you, publishing, accumulating!
And yet I have a weird, particular brain. I do not like the fonts that Substack offers, and fonts are very important to me. I do not like the size of the fonts, or the color options, or the width of the text. I think there is something about the uniform layout and design of those newsletters that makes writers write in uniform ways, and I often don’t like the (sometimes chatty) voice that arises from within that design.
Am I too weirdly particular? Yes! Can I help it? No. Do I want to? No. I want to build and live in a house of my own, or if not my own, a house I find immensely beautiful.
I want a format that feels a little smaller, wilder, more mysterious, more personal. I want to choose if these notes end up in your inbox or not (some yes, some no).
I want them to feel like secret notes, sent directly from me to you. I want them to feel intimate, not like yet another newsletter on yet another day, tethered to numbers and careers.
So here is my little secret note, from me to you.
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And here are some things I am feeling buoyed by, bolstered by:
My friend Lauren Markham’s gorgeous book-length essay, IMMEMORIAL, published by Transit Books.
My friend Samuel Kóláwalé’s powerful and timely novel, THE ROAD TO THE SALT SEA.
The novel AUGUST BLUE, by one of my favorite authors (Deborah Levy), which astonished me with its simple beauty and ode to the transformative power of art.
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I am thinking a lot these days (I imagine we are all thinking a lot these days) about how to live during times of tyranny and catastrophe.
I am thinking about what kind of gardens we can plant—metaphorical and material—as sources of mutual flourishing, sustenance, and nourishment, for ourselves and for others.
I am thinking about what it means to comply and conform. To the absurd and violent new rules of these billionaires, yes, but also what it means to comply and conform more generally. What game are we playing here? Is it a game we believe in? Is it one we want to win? Is there another way to spend our time—not a game, but a dance floor perhaps, or a garden—where the path is paved with authenticity—our own?
That’s what I’m wondering. That’s what I’m writing towards.
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And a new offering:
After several years of focusing on other things, I am once again booking MANUSCRIPT CONSULTATIONS for the coming year. This is a full reading of and response to a book-length manuscript (fiction, non-fiction, hybrid). It includes general feedback (on plot, pacing, characterization, structure), 5-10 pages of meticulous line editing (more if the book is relatively polished), and an hour-long follow-up conversation.
This might be a first read of an early draft (essential), or a final edit of something ready to be polished for publication (also essential). Regardless, I love working on people’s books with them; it is a way to deeply engage with another’s art, help steward their authentic vision to the page, and facilitate the emergence of new and important voices.
You can find more info and rates here.
I will only book six consultations total, for the months of September, November, January, March, May, and July. I hope to schedule all of these soon; please be in touch if you would like to reserve one of these openings or find out more.
Above all, I hope you are continuing to write, and to practice wildness and resistance and non-conformity in their various forms. Let’s play.
Robin