Well, hi there!
It’s been a while since my last newsletter. Now is as good a time as any for an update, since it seems like we are no longer going to be…bird people. I’ll keep my current newsletter cadence, probably. That is to say, not too often ☺️
Lots of news! I had my first short story published, and my first personal essay in a while, for starters.
Since last letter, I rejoined Adobe as a Senior Staff Designer, focusing on some fun systems work. I probably won’t talk much about it here after this, both for coNfiDeNtiAlIty reasons and also because…I don’t want to in this newsletter! No hot takes, sorry! Get back on the bird for that! I’ll just say I’m excited to work with some of my favorite coworkers again.
What else. I’ve been slow on the jewels front since returning to work. I’m trying to catch a breath to do some more artistic play, now that I have some technical skills.
Also! I’m playing Animal Crossing, years later. It’s going to be my autumn Switch game. Are you still playing? I was honestly afraid to play when everyone was playing because the social dynamics scared me.
Don’t hesitate to say hi, I would love to connect or reconnect in this context 🥰🥰
I’ll be at Roots. Wounds. Words. this January for Speculative Fiction! I’m so honored to attend, and I’m looking forward to some kindhearted restoration in the company of such huge talent and big brain literary energy. Will I see you there?
Read my short story, “Some Pretentious Experience” in Alien Magazine.
You stand under the awning and eye the unlabeled doorbell, an s inked in beside the worn bronze button. You would never have a reason to be in this small alleyway, lined with shining boutiques that house nine or so purses, each the price of a car, with glass doors that shiver when the doorman opens them.
There is no like the Styx, based on the Styx, inspired by the Styx on any of The Styx Experience’s marketing or website. Only, The Styx, The Styx, The Styx. What are you fundamentally lacking, that you can’t enjoy the playful make-believe pretension of it? You won’t enjoy this, you can’t. You are fine here on Earth. There is plenty left to see on the outer crust, you aren’t bored enough to need to tour the underworld, too.
Read my essay, “Pickles Taught me the Art of Self-Preservation”—what I learned from my pandemic pickling habit, ADHD, and motherhood in Catapult Magazine.
I was not suspended in a timeless brine like my pickles. I was not a stoic javelin of cellulose waiting to strike a bored palette. My answers would not be in rigidity, in control.
I wrote a blog post about my year of writing and subs. I am trying to blog. It still feels very strange to write longform informally, but here I go, pinning hearts to sleeves and such:
See you next time!