10 Things I Read and Loved in October
Featuring zero books and a bunch of stuff I read online.
I barely had time to crack a book this month, and when I did, nothing was really wowing me. Reading slumps happen! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
I did get to go to Vermont this month, though, for the Brattleboro Literary Festival. Also, my poet friend Robbie Gamble showed me an apple tree he was growing using branches from other apple trees. A metaphor for the revision process?
For this month’s reading roundup, I bring you newsletters, links, and yet another text from my father. Let’s go.
1. Reflections on Jessica Simpson’s unforgettable line of edible body sprays
Oh, so you completely dodged this sickeningly sweet bullet of the early 2000s? I have vivid memories of the Dessert Treats Banana Split scented and flavored (🤢) body spray. It was glittery, too, because of course it was.
Beauty industry reporter Jessica DeFino wrote about Jessica Simpson’s infamous fragrance line and what it taught young women at the time:
“I wanted, as the Dessert Treats ad copy put it, ‘to be completely smoochable and delectable.’ I wanted to be eaten up, eaten away. Consumable, consumed. Slurped, swallowed, metabolized into some boy’s body, the food of me there to fuel his existence.”
Read the whole post here, and while you’re at it, subscribe to DeFino’s incredible newsletter, where she covers “what the beauty industry won't tell you, from a reporter on a mission to reform it.”
2. A particularly sweet text from my father, received while boarding a plane:
3. Relatable reflections on Hurricane Ian, shared by one of my favorite newsletters, My Sweet Dumb Brain:
In exchange for near-constant vacation conditions, we spend six months a year tracking pockets of humidity and low pressure that could wipe out everything we know and love in hours. Tropical Disturbance. Tropical Depression. Tropical Storm. Bottled water. Batteries. Canned tuna. Wait. Wait. Wait. When it arrives, we pinball around the state seeking refuge, sometimes hounded by the storm wherever we go.
We can be honest here, right? The terror gets so wearying. God. Sometimes, I just want to leave. Sometimes I wonder why any of us choose to live in a place where weather catastrophes loom so large that meteorologists become folk heroes. I wonder why we accept this dance with nature, the risk intensifying each year alongside the changing climate.
Can I get an “amen” from my fellow Floridians? Oof!
(But also: I get why we live here. This month’s weather has been the most perfect weather in the history of weather.)
(See also: Pub subs on the beach year-round.)
4. Mason Currey’s #blocktober series
Especially his perfect conditions for a creative block, which are:
Wildly overambitious goals
Perfectionism
Lack of accountability
Fear of scrutiny
Running away from what you’re good at
Also, according to Mason’s newsletter, the brilliant writer Lorraine Hansberry experienced a huge creative block after A Raisin in the Sun premiered, which makes me feel better about all of the creative blocks I’ve had.
5. A terribly apt Liana Finck cartoon:
6. Advice from Bud Smith:
“Limit distractions. Just today, I re-approached things fresh, yet again, gave my phone to my wife, Rae, and said, ‘Why don’t you put in a parental control password for me, write it down. Don’t tell me.’ I’ve gotten too depressed with social media. So now I only have Twitter and Instagram on my phone for 15 minutes per day and then it disappears. Poof. I don’t have the internet on my phone at all anymore, zero minutes.”
I may need to try that! This interview provides tons of other goodies for writers.
7. My friend Rebecca Joy’s essay in an art gallery!!!
My grad school bestie, Rebecca Joy, has an essay in an exhibit at our alma mater, Lesley University! The essay is gorgeous, vivid, precise—just like everything Rebecca writes. I’m so glad I had a chance to see it up in the gallery during my trip up north.
8. Austin Kleon’s definition of comfort work:
Comfort work is work that I do when I don’t know what else to do.
I know I need to work, but I don’t know what I should be working on, or I can’t work on the thing I should be working on because I’m too tired or depressed or otherwise unmotivated.
Comfort work must be comforting and it must be actual work. This sounds simple, but it’s an odd combination. Comfort work is work I’ve done before that I know I can do, but it still must present enough of a challenge to be considered actual work.
Most of Austin’s post about comfort work is behind a paywall, but the preview was enough to get me thinking: what is my comfort work?
Reading other people’s writing. Books, articles, newsletters.
Brain dumping. I’ve been seeing a lot of people doing this in the form of mind-mapping and want to try that!
Morning pages + nightly inventory. I started doing the inventory after attending Mar Grace’s class on organizing a day earlier this month.
I’d love to hear about your forms of comfort work. What do you do when you don’t know what else to do?
9. Jami Attenberg’s thoughts on what writers need:
We all need support.
We all need the time to write.
We all need feedback, even if it’s just from one other person.
We all need to read.
We all need a vacation.
We all need to feel valuable or recognized.
We all need to feel safe.
10. A poem that reminds me to keep making art no matter what:
Have a wonderful magic time 🎣
🧡 Hurley
Cleaning out my email inboxes is definitely my version of comfort work. Most emails only need quick responses or a few minutes of reading, so I can "check off tasks" very quickly and end up with a nice, clean inbox that makes me feel like I've accomplished something. Also I can do it while sitting in my comfy chair.
Wonderfully uplifting, as always!