The last month has been...well—not what I expected it to be. My personal life has been hiking a series of steep peaks and valleys; my professional life is exhausting, a disheartening downward slog, and precarious in the best of circumstances; my creative life is strained, as a result.
My month of focusing on the novel and easing back into my routines was not what I'd hoped, is what I'm saying. But! But. But—
I had a good month, actually.
I've been thinking about and reading the works of Albert Camus quite a bit, over the past weeks (I'm perfectly well aware of how pretentious that sounds—just bear with me). Camus, for those who are unfamiliar, was a French-Algerian intellectual, author, and Nobel Prize winner (amongst many other things) active in the mid-20th century. His early work dealt heavily with the concept of the Absurd—the Absurd being defined as "[that which arises from] the confrontation between human need and the unreasonable silence of the world," or, more simply, "that which is meaningless", the prime example, to Camus, being human existence. This earlier period is when he wrote The Stranger and The Myth of Sisyphus, the latter of which culminates in the infamous line now tattooed on many a philosophy student's body, "We must imagine Sisyphus happy."
A reading of these works, in isolation, leads to the conclusion that we ought to find contentment in the indifference, the meaninglessness, the Absurdity of the universe—to be happy, in spite of that, because our reaction to the Absurd is one thing over which we have control. That take is fair; there's some solace to be found, there. The state of the country—the petty horrors we're inflicting unto ourselves and others—does feel more than a little Absurd, at present, and dealing with that by detaching is understandable, and a solution. But! But. But—
Shortly after writing about Sisyphus rolling his boulder up that hill, Camus grew dissatisfied with this take on the Absurd—worried that there was the potential for misinterpretation in the presentation of his ideas. His later works—notably The Rebel and The Plague—spoke into this space, and developed his philosophies around the Revolt against the Absurd.
A character in The Plague, Dr. Rieux, represents Camus' views here well. Rieux, like Sisyphus, struggles uphill with the outbreak of the plague in his town—first to convince those in power of its presence, then to enact policy that will slow its spread, and later to treat its symptoms. At this point he's still idealistic, believing he can find a cure; his attempt to implement said cure, however, goes awry. The plague is indifferent, meaningless, and Absurd; nothing can be done to stop it. Rieux could choose to detach, to give up, after the hope for salvation is gone—and yet he doesn't. He continues to treat patients as the death toll climbs higher, not out of hope that he can change the outcome of the epidemic, but because it is right, and what he can do. His response to the unreasonable silence of the plague, though undramatic, is a small act of heroism—a Revolt against the Absurd.
Okay, uh—I realize I'm a couple digressions deep, at this point. What does this have to do with me having a good month? Maybe you can already see it—but it helps me to write it down.
I had a good month because I'm Revolting against the Absurd. I know that nothing I can do right now can fix all that is wrong in the world; there is no easy cure for the plague.* But! But. But—I do my work to protect the environment, ineffectual as it may be, because it is right. I navigate the peaks and valleys of my personal life by showing love and compassion, because it is right. I write about my experiences, just a little at a time, because it's what I can do. I'm not happy pushing this particular boulder up this particular hill—but I'll continue to do it anyway. Because it's right. Because it's what I can do—for now, at least. Until the boulder rolls back down the hill. Until we start again, with a new struggle, and continue on in spite of it.
Ahem. Hey, again. It, uh, well—it just didn't feel right to jump into a sign-off right after that paragraph, but I also need to actually sign off. Thus the line break, and this unnecessary explanation. But I digress (again).
Three points of order! One, please keep in mind that the above was a grossly simplified and subjective explanation of some very cerebral topics—I highly encourage you to read Camus' works yourself, and to disagree with or complicate my take on his writing as you will! Two, a reminder that I'll also be skipping the second newsletter of April (hopefully to even greater effect!), but that we'll return to our regular cadence in May. And three—I hope you're well. I really, really do—I know things are bad (Absurd, even) for so many people right now. I hope this newsletter can spark some joy, or some thought. I hope you can do something nice for yourself today, and for someone else, if you have the capacity. And I'm here if you need me.
Until we meet again!
*We do actually have treatments for the plague, and have for a good long while—but I didn't want to complicate the metaphor. Sue me.**
**Please don't sue me.
☕️ Project Curses
Despite tepid progress over the past months, I'm pleased to announce that I have officially started the new draft of my current novel-length project. It's already clear to me that I'll need to restart it here relatively soon (I'm rusty!), but it feels good to have really returned to it, and to be warming up my writing muscles.
The timing is auspicious, I think—April of last year is when I really kicked into gear on the initial draft. More on this soon!
📓 Short Stories
I'm also pleased to announce that in psyching myself up to work on the novel, I ended up finishing a new short story! Well—almost. It needs a couple more drafts and a good polish before it's done done. But I think it'll be a good one.
I also spent a good chunk of time in March searching for homes for my current backlog of stories. I have a handful of magazines and journals picked out, and will start sending out my stories as soon I'm done tweaking all the comma placements for the thousandth time (which is just a cute way of saying that I need the time and mental fortitude to navigate the process).
📝 Essays
A fun externality arising from my recent "writer's block" (which, in this case, is really just feeling tired and overwhelmed with long projects + life itself) has been rekindling an interest in essay-writing; not stuffy academic essays, mind you (though I, admittedly, enjoyed those, too), but essays that fall into the nebulous category of creative nonfiction, drawing on elements of essay and memoir and fiction and anything else I'm feeling, at the time. My research into Camus is for one of these essays, investigating the intersection of Absurdism, science fiction, and the burgeoning sub-genres of hopepunk and solarpunk; another is exploring the concept of utopia in literature and popular culture. I have a bunch more ideas after those, too.
I don't know what will come of these—if or when I'll share them, and in what format—but for now I'm really enjoying the exercise, engaging a similar group of muscles as writing fiction does, but in a different way—like recovering from running by cycling instead. I'll keep you posted on this! Or not, if it goes horribly awry!
📚 Reading
They Can't Kill Us Until They Kill Us by Hanif Abdurraqib | Abdurraqib is a poet, essayist, and critic writing at the intersection of music, sports, race and politics in the U.S. This collection of essays, in particular, includes writing on artists from Carly Rae Jepsen to the Notorious BIG to Marvin Gaye and so many in between, woven through with a wonderful lyrical quality and, with a touch that is at times a clasp of the hand and at others a shaking awake, the lived experience of being Black in America. He's a brilliant writer; he cares about and respects the subjects of his essays so much, treats them with such depth and consideration,that you can't help but to engage. He reads the audiobook for this one, which I found to be a particular joy. Thank you to Miki D. for the recommendation!
Martyr! by Kaveh Akbar | You may have seen Martyr! popping up—well, everywhere, lately—and it's for good reason. It's got everything you want in a book: a compelling voice; a thoughtful, engaging, but subtle plot; characters who feel real and complicated; introspection that feels earned; vivid, fantastical dream sequences that add an element of the unreal to story; and a poignancy to the real and imagined events depicted that makes you want to connect. It's good, and unique, and definitely worth a read. I won't give anything away (and I can't do it justice, anyway), but I hope you check it out.
coulou's cafe trumpet meditations (COULOU) | Many—most?—of you may be familiar with the lofi girl, or, at the very least, the type of cozy video made to put on and vibe to while you do other things. Today's listening recommendations are that—though I should add that just because you can have them on in the background doesn't diminish the artistry on display. COULOU, for instance, is, on the surface, a guy vibing in his apartment, looping a guitar and playing the mellophone for his cat—but he's good. Super talented. Not just musically—his ability to curate a space, coordinate a scene, set a mood makes these trumpet meditations a joy to throw on in the background while cleaning, or cooking, or talking to friends. It's warm, and inviting, and there to engage with at your leisure. That's pretty rad, to my mind.
My Analog Journal (MAJ) | MAJ is a different take on the same concept. Led by Zag and Shaqdi, this international-analog-DJ-slash-super-f*@#ing-cool-people collective (seriously, it's wild how much pure charisma everyone they bring on just oozes) curates roughly hour long sets of immanently grooveable music from across time and space in a studio that looks like it was distilled from every cool bar and coffee shop you've ever been to. Some sets are relatively chill, like the one linked above—but others would be perfect to throw on the TV during a proper party. And there's so many to choose from—literally a set for every mood and event. Highly recommend throwing one on and vibing.
🍿 Watching
Flow | This animated film about a cat going on a journey after its home is destroyed by a flood is...is kind of incredible. It's a brief story that's bigger than the container it comes in. There's no dialogue. There's no real plot, or explanation for the events that unfold. There's no moralizing, or definite message to take away. And yet, it says so much, in such a beautiful, poignant, particular way that puts me in mind of the best Studio Ghibli films. It's an instant favorite, and a film I want to return to often, I think. It's no surprise that it won the Oscar for best animated film this year!
In the frame: Full bloom in DC! 🌸
A Century of Fiction in the New Yorker 1925–2025 | Part of my journey as a writer has been reading and discovering decades of incredible short fiction that I was, frankly, not really aware of until I started trying to write my own. Short stories are too often under appreciated and under valued—the novel is seen as the "highest, best form" of the written story in the same way that a live-action adaptation of a film or show is seen as the "highest, best form" of a visual story, though the truth is much more complicated in both cases.
I digress—the point, for this show and tell, is that the New Yorker put out a collection of the best (subjectively curated!) stories from their first century of publishing, and its a treasure trove of incredible short fiction. I'd list some names to entice you, but suffice to say that just about every great literary author who's penned a short story in the past century is represented.
It's an expensive book, and, currently, not available from the library, so maybe not for everyone right now—I got it as a gift for my birthday last week (thanks, Mom!), and would otherwise have waited—but if you want to write short fiction, or want to learn to appreciate short fiction, I highly recommend picking up this collection. I'm endeavoring to read a story a day until I'm done; I'll update you on some of my favorites when I finish!
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