Letters from the Homestead: November 2021
A new paperback (!) from Miranda Markwell, ideas banging at the window, and a witchy Thanksgiving.
Emily Dickinson called her Amherst home “The Homestead.” I lovingly call my apartment in St. Louis the same thing (although I definitely get out more than Dickinson). This monthly newsletter is my attempt to work through what it feels like to put down roots as an artist in my own Homestead. In it, I’m honest about what’s saving my life right now, what’s hard, and what I’m pouring my energy into.
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The Other Dashwood Sister by Miranda Markwell is out in paperback!
Here is a fun thing for the holiday season: my romance-writing alter-ego, Miranda Markwell, just released the paperback version of The Other Dashwood Sister. When I (hello, yes, I am Miranda Markwell) first signed the contract for this novel, the deal was that it would be exclusive to Scribd for a year (so, only on their app), but then it could be released as a paperback where I could receive direct royalties. Yes, it’s on Amazon; and, yes, I understand if this association with Evil Lord Bezos makes you squirm, but here we are.
Want to know a little behind-the-scenes gossip of publishing on Amazon? First of all, it is a skill to handle all the little details involved with formatting and designing a paperback book, and I am forever indebted to Emma for helping me figure it out. Another interesting thing? The cost of the book on Amazon is $14.00, and whenever you buy a book (oh my god, please maybe buy a book? but no pressure?), I get a whopping $4.20. Which is actually a pretty good deal compared to the tiny smidgen of royalties I got for my Shakespeare monograph.
So, if you feel so inclined, grab yourself a copy of The Other Dashwood Sister, a Jane Austen sequel about the finest and youngest of the Dashwood sisters: dear, dear Margaret. It’s light, binge-able, imperfect, and sweet—a great holiday read if you want to live a little in Austen’s world for a spell. And, if you dig it, please please please consider leaving a review on Amazon—you wouldn’t believe how much this small thing helps writers.
I’ve said this before in this newsletter, but I really believe that romance writing is an incredible education for writers—especially writers who take themselves too damn seriously. One of the habits I’m trying to break from my academic training is this sense that you cannot release a piece of writing out into the world unless it is polished to perfection and (mostly) impenetrable to criticism. In graduate school, I remember hearing the old line from Virginia Woolf that cautioned writers against publishing anything before the age of thirty. In truth, I like generally like Woolf’s advice because it makes us focus on filling the vault with ideas, interests, and the works of others before barreling into sending our own work out into the world. But a writer might also, you know, be dead long before they reach thirty. Who cares if the work is imperfect?
There’s so much joy in writing a relationship-driven story where the happy ending is inevitable. The form already exists; you only need to fill it with details that humanize your characters. This genre is imperfect, but it’s also a kind of gift.
I’ve had a thought for long while about teaching creative writing through the practice of writing an imperfect, messy, slightly cheesy romance book. (If anyone is looking for a teacher to lead a project like this, hit me up—I’ve got loads of ideas.) I’m learning that it’s a kind of gateway genre to a whole host of other genres. You begin with a relationship and a reader’s desired outcome, and then you suddenly have the framework for defying all of those expectations in your fiction. When you go through the motions of following an expected form, you learn how to experiment within the form and, ultimately, to break it. You can also write a romance book unselfconsciously. After all, everyone is generally pretty awkward when they try to write about desire. Why not join them?
Another thing that I’ve learned about writing through this gig is how to let mean internet reviews slide off of you. (Okay, honestly, I have to re-learn this every day.) Encountering this kind of harsh, public criticism (people on the internet can be pretty brutal) is not really something academics are accustomed to since they are often protected from public attacks on their work (unless they happen to be very famous). For example, if a peer reviewer of your academic journal article thinks that your argument is terrible, then you get sent a private reader’s report. The mean words (and they are often very, very mean) don’t get published on the internet for all to see.
Not so with romance books or audiobooks! I try to not read too deeply into the reviews—mostly because they are rough, even if a book has more than 4 stars. The audiobook reviews of works I’ve recorded are particularly cruel, actually. One reviewer called my narration “lifeless,” another hated my British accent (honestly, they are probably right), and my favorite mean review compared me to “a tram driver.” There are countless others that criticize my speed, my tone, my character voices… the list goes on. It’s impossible to please everyone, and while I’m always open to constructive criticism (especially from authors), my voice is my voice and it pretty much just sounds the way it sounds. At the end of the day, I really am trying my best.
I’ve learned that it’s character-building enough to know that the mean reviews exist, even if I don’t read them all. I don’t have to make myself crazy by agonizing over every single one. It’s also good to remember that the people who cruely criticize your work are generally not working as much or as hard as you. This is an invaluable lesson for writers.
All this to say, please consider buying The Other Dashwood Sister on Amazon! And, if you’d like to work through your own writing neuroses, consider cranking out a romance novel. ;-)
More ideas than I know what to do with.
Winter is when ideas come for me, and they come in droves.
This happens to me every year—as soon as the weather turns cooler and it’s easier to spend all day inside, it’s like all manner of new ideas start banging at my window like the ghost of Cathy Earnshaw in Wuthering Heights. This year, I’m trying to be more prepared for it. In the past, I’ve gotten caught in a sitch of having too many ideas pummeling me, to the point where I end up shutting down and doing nothing at all.
This year, I want things to be different. I want to clear out space in my head and heart so that I can be ready to open the window when the ghosts come.
There are a couple of ways I make space when I know a big idea-storm is on its way: cleaning, economizing, and (maybe most importantly) shutting down social media for a while. Over a year ago, I deactivated my Facebook account to quiet all the excess noise from the election. When the election was over, I decided to leave it all deactivated. The quiet has been very, very good.
For this winter, I’m taking Instagram, TikTok, and Twitter off my phone from December 6th to January 6th, just to give myself a little breather. (If you follow me on Instagram, don’t worry, I’ll still remind you that Thursday is a concept—set a special alarm on my phone just to remind me to log in and post!) I have a few internet things to do before the 6th, like promoting The Other Dashwood Sister and a Twitter pitching event, but after that, I’m taking a solid break. This newsletter and all its accompanying paid subscriber options will still continue as usual. I’m mostly just trying to quiet my connection to my smartphone. That’s where all the noise gets in.
Last winter, the ideas that came to my window helped me finish writing my first novel, Masha and the Book of Wellness (still querying! still raking in those rejections! it’s a hard lot!), which was an unexpected project that I wouldn’t have been able to sink into if it hadn’t been for the quiet of a pandemic holiday. That winter also brought me the idea for a short play, Tonya and the Totes in Subterrastrata, which was part of SATE’s 2021 Aphra Behn Festival. (Speaking of which, if you are a woman or non-binary writer/director, you should submit to be a part of the upcoming festival!) I didn’t realize it at the time, but last winter also planted the seeds for Brontë Sister House Party, the play I’ve been writing for the St. Louis Shakespeare Festival’s Confluence program. (There’s also some fun news for that play coming soon… stay tuned!)
I have my suspicions about what’s coming this winter, but I’ve learned to not be too specific about my expectations. The only thing I can control is the space I make for the ideas when they arrive.
A Witchy Thanksgiving
The highlight of my November was driving down to Tennessee to spend Thanksgiving with my parents, my brother and sister-in-law, and my perfect star-seed of a niece, Baby Cordelia.
One of the things I love the most about visiting family in Tennessee is that it means I get to visit my favorite witch, Michelle—my sister-in-law, and also one of the most intuitive healers I know. Michelle is open to all manner of magic, and I always feel a little more attuned to The Mystery after spending a few days with her. In addition to family time where we all cooked up a Thanksgiving meal and watched the parade, Michelle took me to a few witchy shops, sat with me while we filled spell jars at her kitchen table, and even did a Reiki healing with me before I got in the car to drive home.
The first time Michelle did a Reiki healing on me was a few years ago in an Italian restaurant in St. Louis. My belly full of breadsticks, she laid hands on me and I felt the rough energy I’d been carrying around from an expired marriage shiver away in a matter of seconds. Of course, that was just the energy that bubbled to the surface. I had many more months (and years) of healing to deal with the end of that relationship, but her Reiki healing gave me the nudge toward lightness that I needed.
On the morning I drove home to St. Louis after Thanksgiving, she had me lay down for another healing. This time, though, I felt like I was sinking into the ground like a fossil, nestled and firm in its sediment. It scared me just a little when, mid-session, I realized that my body was so heavy that I couldn’t move my head. When she pulled me out of it, I had tears in my eyes I didn’t remember crying, and it took me a moment to come back to the world around me.
Michelle told me what messages she received during the session and wrote them down on a napkin for me so I wouldn’t forget:
You are a beautiful expression of life.
You don’t have to explain yourself.
You are exactly where you need to be to move/grow into your highest self. You are stable and supported.
It was exactly what I needed to hear. When I got home that night, after a long day of travel, I slept for 12 hours straight with the stillness of a fossil.
I’m grateful to be your sister, Michelle. Thank you for this.
What I’m reading this month…
The Group by Mary McCarthy. I haven’t read this book since college, but I binged it this month, trying to see how much I remembered from my first read over ten years ago. McCarthy is such a smart writer—even though this is a novel about Vassar girls in the 1930’s, the human portraits feel closer to our time than you would expect.
Thy Queendom Come by Kyndall Rae Rothaus. I’ve loved reading this book so much. As someone who doesn’t identify as a Christian but still has a deep interest in dismantling patriarchal systems in Christianity, this book hits the spot. If you work in churches/spiritual formation or are a member of the clergy, you must read this book.
Pilgrim Principles by Lacy Clark Ellman. I found this book on my shelf recently after many years of forgetting I had it. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the concept of pilgrimage (I’m even doing a virtual “Camino de Santiago” right now), and this book was a great tool for reminding myself of some of what interests me about pilgrims and pilgrimage.
Crystals: The Modern Guide to Crystal Healing by Yulia Van Doren. This book was lent to me by Michelle. A great intro to something that fascinates me but I know nothing about.
How I Made Money this Month $$$
I believe freelance artists should be more upfront about how they support themselves financially, so here is me attempting to live out that principle. Here are all the ways I brought in money to the Homestead for November:
Audiobook narration. Some listeners may think I sound “like a tram driver,” but I keep getting cast for audiobook projects and I’ll always take what comes my way.
Romance writing. This month, I finished a new romance novella titled Mary Bennet’s Little Book of Love. (It’s about Mary Bennet from Pride and Prejudice, but make it gay.) I agreed to write this book months ago with Scribd, but I was overloaded with other freelance work (a good thing!) to the point where I couldn’t get to it until now. I’m hoping to increase my romance writing in the coming months, mainly to keep my creative writing muscles strong.
NSF grant workshops. I’m on a team of playwrights who have started doing workshops with a local university about discrimination in STEM fields. We did one workshop this month, but we may be doing more after the holidays. This project was funded by a National Science Foundation grant, which I thought was pretty cool.
Facilitating for an online education company. I work as a facilitator/consultant for an education company that provides graduate-level coursework for secondary educators (without them having to enroll in a university program).
Voiceover for a workers’ rights commercial. This was neat! My friend Matt connected me with his organization, which promotes workers’ rights for the service industry, and I voiced a sizzle reel for them.
Substack paid subscriptions. This is a small but much-appreciated source of income. Thank you to all that are paid subscribers!
It’s holiday card season!
I love sending holiday cards in December, and I’ve just got myself a fresh stack of new cards to send out to dear ones like you. If you received a card from me last year, then you are already on my list. But if you’d like a card (or you have a new address!) just reply to this email and I’ll add you. Midge and I can’t wait to send you some love.
Tonight starts a new month. Stay warm, friends.
Yours ever & etc., etc.,
Courtney, Mistress of the Homestead, and Noble Midge the Cat
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