Letters from the Homestead: November 2023 🦃
Signing with a literary agent (!) and easing into my quiet holiday.
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 a writer in my own Homestead.
Big writing milestone ✍️
This was a big month for me as a writer, a milestone two years in the making. I finally signed with a literary agent (for fiction) after 50+ queries to different agents and editors. I’m still reeling from how unusual it feels to get to this point. I expected to feel relief at the end of this long querying process (many writers call it the “querying trenches”), but instead the news opened up a new surge of worries and insecurities. Can I actually pull this off? Can I revise my novel manuscript into something I feel undoubtedly proud of before it goes on submission to publishers?
Will people…like it?
We love impostor syndrome, don’t we? Normally, I try hard to kick impostor syndrome out of my brain by reminding myself it means something that I’m doing the work. Many people never get to the point of just trying to be a writer, so I try to give myself credit for getting this far.
I’m coming around to the idea that a healthy dose of impostor syndrome might be good for the artistic psyche sometimes. So long as it doesn’t paralyze you, the impostor-vampire in your mind can keep you marginally humble. I’m learning that this is essential for good revision—everything can be looked at a bit longer, a bit more skeptically.
This quote from writer Sara Lippmann sums it up well.
“Often, we try to publish too soon, out of some impatience or hunger for external validation. […] That impulse can outweigh the more honest need to sit with a story and go deeper, grapple with the page and be dissatisfied, be merciless, keep pushing beyond fine.”
-Sara Lippmann
Artistic humility (the lighter, healthier version of impostor syndrome) drives us to refine the work we make, especially artistic work. I never want to become too confident. Revision is where the magic happens; I’m determined not to lose sight of the magic in pursuit of efficiency.
So, here are the logistics of what happens next: my agent edits are due by December 21st, and then the hope is that the novel goes on submission to publishers in January. This feels so fast! But when I consider that I started writing this book in June/July 2020 (!!!), maybe it’s just the right time.
This step also feels like a season change. When I switched careers from “academic” to “creative writer”, I worried if I’d ever be able to get myself on track to sustainability and some semblance of legitimacy (whatever that means). I’d essentially started over at age 32. Four years later, I see that I may have started over, but I didn’t start from scratch. All those years of teaching, researching, and reading were foundational for me.
“Read a thousand books and your words will flow like a river,” says Virginia Woolf. I believe this. There is no way I would’ve felt the urge to write plays and novels if I hadn’t been reading intensely for ten years straight.
I will keep you updated about what happens next. Big crazy changes are afoot.
A Quiet Holiday Season 🕯
In my last newsletter, I wrote about how I plan to take things real slow and quiet this holiday season: no obsessing over sending holiday cards, no big decorations, no crazy spending, and no Christmas tree. Maybe this seems Grinch-like to you, but it’s been so relaxing for me. I’m still going to Christmas parties and concerts, of course, but things are decidedly un-festive at the Homestead itself.
I needed this. I needed this decrease in holiday-centered overstimulation, particularly in my own home. I want my apartment to feel like a respite from all the pressure of the holidays, not a reminder of it.
I know this choice isn’t for everyone. Some people live for the glitz of December, but it’s been nice for me to take a break.
Some of this is a writing decision: in order to finish the edits for this novel (and to prepare to write a new play in January), I need to cut out the excess expectations of this month. It’s also a mental health decision—I’d like to get myself to a place where I enjoy the winter holidays without the pressure of “extras.” Not the easiet goal, but not impossible either.
Cheers to being a little bit Grinchy sometimes. 💚
What I’m Reading this Month
The Stripping of the Altars: Traditional Religion in England, 1400-1580 by Eamon Duffy. I had to read this book in a religious history class in graduate school. It’s full of all the rich cultural elements of late medieval Catholic England before the Reformation—saints, superstitions, magic, and crazy rituals. I remember when I took this class, everyone else hated this book, but I sort of loved it. I was obviously the English grad student in the room.
Codependent No More by Melody Beattie. I re-read this book about once a year, just to remind myself that I am not responsible for managing the feelings and lives of other people; I’m only responsible for my own actions. One of my worst habits during my married years (so funny to say it like that, but it’s true) was an urge to constantly accommodate the emotional needs of my partner and to anticipate if anything was awry—if something was wrong, I jumped into action to fix it. I was always working to anticipate my partner’s needs, and, in doing so, I did a bad job of managing my own. This is a great book to read if you spend lots of time giving to others without giving much to yourself.
My Life with the Saints by James Martin, S.J. (audiobook). I love pretty much everything James Martin writes. My favorite chapter in this book was the one on Dorothy Day.
The Terrible Speed of Mercy: A Spiritual Biography of Flannery O’Connor by Jonathan Rogers (audiobook). This book was new to me, and I have a feeling it has its own reputation among O’Connor scholars, but I enjoyed a big overview of O’Connor’s life and Catholicism.
It’s not lost on me that there are lots of Catholic-adjacent books here, by the way. When I go to religious services these days, I go to Mass, but I’m not persuaded enough by it all to convert. I like being the outsider. It’s enough for me to participate in the rituals (except for the Eucharist, of course), even if I don’t believe in or agree with the Church’s teachings. Sometimes, you just need a thinking-place that others treat as holy. Never underestimate the power of a place others call holy.
How I made money this month $$$
I believe freelance artists should be more upfront about how they support themselves financially, rather than maintaining the illusion that they are fully supported by their art (they usually aren’t). This is me attempting to live out that principle. So, here are all the ways I brought in money to the Homestead for the month of November.
Teaching artist work for Prison Performing Arts. Teaching a weekly writing workshop and teaching Spoken Word regularly in a men’s prison.
ARPA Grant from the Regional Arts Commission. A generous grant for lost income during the pandemic. Such an amazing program.
Playing piano for a local Catholic middle school’s chapel service. I’m learning to play a lot of gospel tunes and Mass music.
Facilitating online graduate literature courses. Every day I’m grading, grading, grading.
Paid Substack subscriptions. Thank you to all of my paid subscribers. It means the world to me that you make a financial contribution to my work.
The Dark Season is here.
I’m writing this newsletter from my living room at 4:45pm. It’s already dark outside—cold and rainy, too. I know many folks loathe this time of year, but I find the quick-to-leave daylight a prompt to slow down. I always write more in the darkest seasons than I do all year. For me, the hibernation of these months goes hand in hand with creative force. This is the part of the year where I don’t stop writing, and I love it.
I hope you’re staying warm wherever you are, friends.
Tonight starts a new month.
Love,
Courtney, Mistress of the Homestead, and Noble Midge the Cat