Hi all! This issue started as one thing (me talking about my style and fashion trends I like, because I remembered this is my newsletter and I can write what I want) and then it was another thing (a sort of aimless ramble about the future of this newsletter as a part of my portfolio vs my person) and now it is something else. I’m gonna give you all a “pull back the curtain” moment this week, as I walk through some of my decisions and thoughts about this space as well as how my writing inhabits space in general. Just know that 40% of this was birthed in my brain while brushing my teeth, so we’re going pretty organic here. Enjoy!
I started by thinking about how much of the internet (at least my usual haunts and hives of it) this week is up in arms about Heather Havrilesky’s recent NYT Op-Ed about marriage. You can go read it, because I’m not talking about what I think of it or what I think of others who think a certain way about it. I’m talking about how when removed from the fraught community of one’s audience, a writer’s work and the writer themself can be viewed in a completely different light than self intended; this is never more true than in the case of lifestyle and advice essayists such as Havrilesky.
The longtime author of the beloved column, “Ask Polly” (and its runty sister “Ask Molly), Havrilesky’s reflections on age, failure and self patience have particularly resonated with me in the past. I enjoy the clarity and ease of recognition I feel when reading her column; I would recognize her work by font alone if scrolling past it at any given time. I don’t feel that I am alone in this; her column is wildly successful independently after moving publications and venues. All of these positive feelings I hold towards Havrilesky still stand, but I noticed a matter of heightened awareness I now also hold after witnessing much of the discourse around the aforementioned op-ed.
Mitski recently said “Any kind of self-employed person has to have socials now to continue to be employed, which is a really messed up situation we’ve put ourselves in. A resume no longer suffices? Now thousands of strangers also have to like your online persona for you to be employed? It’s wild.” As she so often is, Mitski is right. The increased visibility and forced personalization of creatives specifically is sky-rocketing; not only did I read and enjoy a poem/article/review by any given writer, but I probably know what they wore to brunch with their mother last Tuesday. I remember their favorite musicians, and tend to pick up on recurring bits in their online persona. This is to say nothing of the extent of internet intimacy stan culture requires; I am referring to the mere casual consumption of a creative product.
This, of course, makes me think about myself. Nobody (to my knowledge) is engaging in heated discourse over what I said in a review or an essay, or the implications of my preferences on a specific topic, because I just don’t have the kind or quantity of an audience that invites that discussion. I do, however, maintain frequent dialogue with those who consume my work by feedback, comments and edits throughout the drafting process. On my dashboard end of this newsletter, I can tell what you guys like and don’t like, or at least what you hate-read and don’t care about, respectively. I appreciate these metrics because they give me a temperature read of what’s going on after I hit publish, without the public scrutiny of ratios and reposts.
Recently I’ve been thinking a lot about where and who my writing is reaching, in a variety of ways. If we’re referring to “literateleah” as a brand or pen name, through this newsletter and other my blog reach I’ve made invaluable progress that feels really significant, just to me. It has no strings attached (in theory) and allows me to develop my portfolio, voice, and tastes as an engaged audience listens along. Over time, that has become inevitably reconciled with “Leah” the writer and “Leah” the human being, respectively.
The former is who I am when my academic or analytic brain takes over. I view new pieces as assets that fall into my resume or work experience as tools: A few sharp ones to get the job done (reviews, heavy hitting critiques) paired with the bits and bobs everyone needs in their toolbox (personal essays, my poetry, fluff pieces and awards). The latter is who I am when I’m sitting hunched over, matcha on standby, puffing through the last 500 word sprint of a new issue going out to you all as soon as I can give it to you. She’s me at my core, when I’m existing instead of or outside of writing. Though, some days I don’t even feel that I know her best of all.
Back to audiences and writers as real people. Especially when it comes to such “personal” genres of writing as advice, poetry and lifestyle essays, I think people naturally search for a person beyond the voice. Depending on where you’ve met me, or how you’ve come to find my work, you may be familiar with any of the three formerly described Leahs. This isn’t a Cinderella-mask-off-”I’m all at once” moment, because I don’t feel that I’m there yet. I’m still feeling out some of the boundaries and priorities I want to specify going into this year and the many many many to come I hope to still be writing during.
I’ve been through various stages of second guessing and re-examining my digital curation. At this point, I’m at peace with it and I try to dismantle as many obstacles and filters between the electrons in my brain and what you see on your silly little screen, without being excessively cognizant of the overall image it presents. If you follow me anywhere, you know who I am, what I’m passionate about, and what I’d like you to get out of a digital exchange with me. I try to approach those platforms with the priority of not commodifying myself, in the sense that I am aware of my influence and impact on those I encounter digitally, but rather I have a responsibility to positively impact them as much as I can: with grace and love.
Since the launch of this newsletter in August, our little club has grown and expanded beyond my imagination or immediate circles of promo, a fact that I’m endlessly grateful for and overjoyed by. In all ways digitally possible, we are sitting cross legged in my bedroom chatting and sharing snacks. Your presence is a blessing, and I can’t wait to keep sharing with you. I really do wish that however you encounter me and my words, I’ve been able to demonstrate a bit of love or wisdom or reassurance to you in that moment. Whether you agreed with a point I made in a review, or one of my poems particularly spoke to you, or even the slightest sentence in an essay resonated, I thank you for that gift of letting me in. Of allowing me to share that intellectual space, or even metaphysically share a cup of matcha with you. However that little mental image of me takes shape in your heart now or ever, I look forward to many more good words and good works with you in this year. I love you, and I’ll see you next week!