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.
This will be an Autumn of Rest. 🍂
Summer was fuller than I planned. I took on projects and extra work, believing (like I always do) that summer will unfold endlessly with time to spare. It’s now October 1st, and I’ve only just this week finished my “summer tasks.”
I brought this busyness on myself, of course. I always do.
I’m determined to have “An Autumn of Rest” this year—time for reading, doing the bare minimum of work, writing, and working in the yard to prepare it for winter (planting bulbs, clearing brush, etc.). This afternoon, I sat on my front steps, and, one by one, cut off all the dead heads on my potted mums. With a cup of coffee next to me, I picked away at each brown-crumpled flower, making space for the new buds underneath. It was a quiet task, the kind I have time to do when I’m not racing toward rehearsal or a deadline.
While picking away at the mums, I thought, Have I ever sat down and done this in my life? Have I ever made time to just take care of my mums so they last all season, rather than turning brown after three weeks?
The answer is no. I’ve never done that before, never had such leisure.
I’m entering my rest era.
Something’s changed in the past year, even with my busy summer. I’ve stopped saying yes to things that drain my energy in an imbalanced way. I’m getting more sleep. I read a book on my thyroid and started taking better vitamins. I check in with my friends and family more. I remember to water my plants. I light candles. I bake cookies. I don’t run out of toilet paper because I remember to buy it. I got sober (going on 1.5 years) and also cut down on my Diet Coke intake (mostly). I also gained some weight that made my body feel healthier, fuller, softer.
I like these changes. I’m shocked that I went so long in a state of anxiety that made such things impossible.
My goal for this autumn is to take things easy. I’m at a place as a freelancer where I feel very stable—I know what needs to be done and I can gauge how long it takes to get it done. Time does feel more expansive because I understand it better. I want to take advantage of that.
When a play isn’t ready to be a play for seven years.
One of my biggest projects this month was to finish a new play—it’s called Britches! A Play for Lady Romeos and I think (I hope) it’s a delight. This project is part of an Artistic Research Fellowship from the Folger Shakespeare Library, and it will be performed next spring/summer at the women’s prison in Vandalia, Missouri.
The draft is done, and tomorrow I’ll go into the prison to hear it read aloud by the artists. The play uses some of their own writing and writing from some Prison Performing Arts alum, so it’s got a lot of heart built into it already.
What’s funny to me is that I started writing this play six years ago. It took six years for it to become the play it needed to be.
I first wrote it as a swift, four-person historical comedy about the 19th-century actress Charlotte Cushman, famous for playing male Shakespeare roles. The play was nice, but it wasn’t anything special. It stayed in a folder on my computer for years, hardly ever coming up for air.
Until now.
When I opened it back up, it was very obvious that it was the second play I’d ever written in my life. It had sharp edges, little depth, and superficial characters.
A new opportunity and a very specific context (a performance in a women’s prison) completely enlivened it. I saw the problems more clearly, saw where I could create new pathways for promises to the audience—I saw the community the play would be performed for and then I saw what the play needed to be.
I preach this process to students, but I don’t always follow it. This is an example where I had a full draft of a play that didn’t understand it’s audience. The newest draft is closer to the ideal.
We’ll see if they like it…
What I’m reading this month…
It’s been an odd reading month. Any of the books that I listed in last month’s newsletter are still on my coffee table, waiting to be picked up again. I’ve been so busy that I forgot reading is one of my favorite things to do, my greatest comfort as a creative. 🤷♀️
The First Months of the Apparitions of Medjugorje by Stipe Cavar. (This book isn’t even in print anymore!) A friend gave me this from her mom’s “weird Catholic book collection.” It’s about a group of young people in Eastern Europe who have visions of the Virgin Mary. It’s strange and pious, and I think there’s a novel here.
The Hero with a Thousand Faces by Joseph Campbell. I also finished a play this month for another prison called Gatsby of a Thousand Faces. I swiped the title idea from Campbell’s book and thought it best to re-read parts of this theory of myth. My favorite comfort television is the Bill Moyers feature about Joseph Campbells work called The Power of Myth.
The Waste Land and Other Writings by T. S. Eliot. I grow old… I grow old… I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled… and apparently also read comfort poetry (that I’ve read plenty of times before) when my brain can’t handle much else.
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 September.
Teaching artist work for Prison Performing Arts. Teaching a weekly writing workshop and teaching Spoken Word regularly in a men’s prison.
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.
Remount of The Brechtfast Club (and teaching a playwriting workshop) for SIUe’s X-Fest. First time I’ve taught college students in a while and they were lovely.
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. I know I’ve been slow on sending out my Secret Letters. I’m grateful for your support nonetheless, even when I’m in a busy season.
A busy (but flattering!) month!
This is a very fun thing! The Riverfront Times named me the Best St. Louis Playwright for 2023. It feels very, very good to be picked out for doing good work—I continue to be so grateful to be a writer in this city.
Midge the cat remains unimpressed with my success. I strive to be worthy of her.
Today starts a new month.
May the cool air come for us soon.
Yours,
Courtney, Mistress of the Homestead, and Noble Midge 🐈⬛