Writing is a form of love

I think we forget that, sometimes.

Wow, this is my first official letter to you all, which is hard to believe. Until now, I had been using Twitter to communicate, brief missives to far-away lands and to people whom I adore but have never met in person. It feels better, even if a little strange, to direct my words to your inboxes instead, and in long form: my one, true writing love. (It’s been hard to minimize my thoughts to so few characters for two years!) If you haven’t yet subscribed, please consider signing up below (it’s free!) so you never miss an issue.

Writing is a form of love.
I think sometimes we forget that fact when we pick up our pen to write (proverbially or otherwise). Writing is a challenge. It is hard work to craft a world, to fashion language into something readable, even if only for ourselves. So where I’d like to begin with this newsletter is the avowal and validation that what you are doing is an act of selflessness—especially if you are neurodivergent or otherwise identify as part of a marginalized group—no matter what and how much you’re putting down on the page. It matters very little the volume of what you write, how often, or if it’s for an audience of one. Writing is love, and it’s hard work.

If you’re here because you are considering a career in writing and are looking for support in that way, I applaud you. Know that your work has worth outside of the external and commercialized publishing world. Late stage capitalism serves no one but itself and the people sitting in its ivory tower, and in the process eats its own tail in search of the highest profit margins. Your writing is important, no matter if it falls into this very narrow category or not. I will also say that to choose this career (though it often doesn’t feel like a choice, and certainly doesn’t for me) is valiant. As someone who made the leap into professional writing themself a little over two years ago, I know what that precipice looks and feels like. Even harder yet is navigating the no-man’s-land that is querying, and then the terror of submission. I’m still at this second stage, and I can tell you, the email refreshing and anxiety simply do not stop.

So I’d like to take this moment to peel back that anxiety, that fraught energy, those increasingly impossible and artificial standards, from this task we fix ourselves to. What’s beneath that crackling veneer of panic and shuddering nerves? Much like the skin of an apple, you might find like I did that the fear is thin—and what’s beneath is the real prize. The thing we sink our teeth into. The sweetness and the joy of writing.

We write to feel. To experience things outside our own bodies. It’s said that infants don’t know where their bodies end, which is why they hold so closely to their parents. Imagine that expansiveness: the body does not end. Every surface filled with nerves. I think, as writers, we can all relate to that—and that we did not really outgrow the sense that we can be anything, anywhere, everywhere at once. I’d like to present this idea to you:

We touch the infinite when we write.

In the daily practice of writing, I often think we focus too much on those frenetic and ever-changing goal posts and tasks, especially when times are tough and moments seem short. As a neurodivergent person, I am always looking for ways to incorporate mindfulness into my practice, to move beyond the demands that feel most urgent but are almost always the least important. Anxiety often gets the better of me, especially when I feel I must meet a deadline; there have been times I’ve neglected myself and my health to do so—which I don’t think is a unique experience. This particular time of year is hard on us all, and in the effort to not add to mental clutter, I’m not going to get into the brass tacks of writing in this letter. Instead, I want to give you a small, doable task that I hope will help cut through the constant worrying of writing to a goal.

What I would love for you to try is this:

On a piece of paper, write down the things you love about your writing. The things that inspired you to write in the first place.

Try not to let desperation or negativity into this part of the practice. Just get down the things you love about your words.

Let me begin, in the hopes it won’t feel self-conscious for you:

• I love the way my writing comes to life in the vivid complexity of my descriptions.

• I love my characters, especially how messy and real they are.

• I love that my writing gives me expansiveness, not just as part of my vocabulary, but through the lived experiences of my point-of-view characters.

When you’re done with your lists, know 1) that counts for writing today, and 2) writing the things you are proud of makes you a better writer. You may see that after doing this, the words come easier. I know they do for me. I find I’m more productive when I access the writing flow from a place of positivity rather than from flagellation.

I hope you meditate on the beauty of this: in gifting yourself the expansiveness of your own love, crafted in words, you are able to create more freely. That by speaking softly and gently about yourself, you ameliorate your anxieties about the future, and focus on the here and now. And isn’t the best writing that which feels most immediate?

Happy holidays, friends. See you next time.

Warmly,

Taylor

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Here’s a list of (non-sponsored) things that have made me feel functional, lately:

1. Loop Earplugs. These noise-reducing earplugs come in many styles, but they have been a godsend for me and my partner as parents who are working from home. From $19.95.

2. Soundcore Noise Cancelling Headphones. A bit of a splurge, but these headphones have changed my life. $109.99 on Amazon.

3. Merry + Bright Candle. This little pine-scented candle from Sweet Water Decor makes my office smell like a forest—instantly soothing! $24.00.

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I’ve been working on a new book, It Came From the Forest, for about two months now. It’s with readers (yikes!!!) and then I’ll send it back to my indomitable, incredible agent, Larissa, for a final look-over before it goes on sub! This is my first real YA novel (we don’t talk about the other one, which was an accidental adult novel, oops) and I’m feeling really hopeful about it! Cross your fingers for me.

Here’s a mood board I made for it that I love:

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That’s all for now!