The words that no one reads.

How to write for two worlds without having a total identity crisis. Also: a fresh website, a sushi rolling session, and a new profile to add to my scammer collection!

Last week, I put together a new personal website. The previous version was hosted by the marketing agency where I worked nearly six years ago, so I wasn’t totally shocked when they finally removed it from their servers. Honestly, it was a gift. The site was barely functional and difficult to update, but since I wasn’t publishing much fiction and I had this newsletter, I didn’t bother trying to fix it. Its final disappearance was the motivation I needed to make something better. 

As I migrated all my links to the new site, I realized how much I published in the 2010s. It makes sense—I was enrolled in my MFA program from 2011 to 2014, and MFAs are great for pumping out short stories and personal essays. Then I graduated and focused on writing novels instead, which leads to this cute bit of irony: my best work is my least read. 🙃

Last week, I also got a promotion at work. I’m now the Manager of Writing and Content Strategy, which is exciting and satisfying (I work hard and I’m moving up!) but inevitably triggers a minor identity crisis. My career is what people see, what I share on LinkedIn, the work for which I am recognized, celebrated, and compensated. But the thing that matters most (to me, at least) is the work no one reads, the writing for which I have not been paid. As a result, I often feel like I’m straddling two worlds. In one, my writing is valued and leveraged to help reach revenue goals. In the other, my writing is priceless because it serves no one’s goals but my own. 

In her recent Esquire piece, “Is My Writing a Hobby or a Career?” Rainesford Stauffer writes about this conundrum beautifully. “Whether something produces profit should not be the determinant of the meaning it holds. Writing is work, and like all labor, it deserves sustainable, equitable compensation. There are stories that go untold because someone can’t afford to write them.” 

Most of my day is not spent entrenched in the literary arts. Most of my experiences are not borne from a sacred creative process. Most days, I go to work and think about the financial services industry. On the weekends, I exercise and sweep dog hair from the floor and tend my garden. In the mornings, I write my novels; in the evenings, I read books. Every few years, my MFA friends and I swap our latest projects and cheer each other on, but most of the time we talk about our jobs, our travels, their children. Our writing is part of our lives, but not the whole thing. 

“Maybe [writing] is a hobby,” Rainseford writes in her essay. “Or maybe it’s work someone cares about that doesn’t fit a forty-hours-a-week model… If writing was happening in what some might call margins of my life, did that inherently make it a hobby—or was it actually what knit my life together?”

I’ve talked about this before, and I suspect it’s the reason I can write for two very different worlds. I’m supported and sustained by my work, both corporate and creative. They might seem like polar opposites, but they share many of the same qualities—ambition and artistry, recognition and connection, the satisfaction of a job well done—and neither could exist without the other.

Once, this felt like an uneasy alliance. These days, I view it more like a partnership. Either way, I’m grateful for the balance. ✨

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Snack Break

Happy Pride Month! Before we celebrate, a quick look back at this delicious snack I enjoyed during AAPI Heritage Month. At work, the AAPI Alliance hosted a sushi rolling class, taught by my work bestie’s adorable mother! They provided all the tools, big bowls of rice, and pre-cut veggies, tofu, and other assorted fillings. We laughed, we learned, we rolled. My sushi was a little too big (typical) but I thought they were perfect. It was a lovely afternoon, the perfect break in the day, and so fun to snack on something I made with my own hands. 🍣

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Relatable Recommendations

• Reading: The latest Caroline Calloway longread just landed, and I clicked it so fast. If you don’t follow CC or understand why she’s a fascinating and complicated personality, here’s one paragraph from the piece I found particularly delightful: “The term I’m groping for is con artist, emphasis on the artist because she’s authentically that too. It could be argued that she isn’t a writer but a performance artist’s take on a writer.” 🐍 🌸

• Clicking: Permission to be weird online; the urge to brand each season (welcome to my Garden Grandma Summer); why you should abandon your dreams; and how to stop (most) junk mail!

• Watching: Silo, a dystopian show based on one of Nathan’s favorite series. I haven’t read the books, but it’s fun to watch the show and finally experience the world he’s been talking about for years.

• Growing: Carrots and corn, mostly. The peppers and tomatoes I started from seed are seriously lagging—I might have to buy some transplants. (We have an Instagram just for our garden, and I might devote a whole issue of this newsletter to the magic of growing things. You’ve been warned!)

• Feeling: Hopeful. After a final round of edits, my book is ready for the next step. Please send it all the well wishes, good vibes, witchy potions, heartfelt prayers, and positive energy you can spare.

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Coffee Club Contributions

Thank you to Jillian D. and Jack C. for supporting this newsletter and helping me feel seen!

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