Welcome to Secret Letters, a paid subscriber perk of Letters from the Homestead. These monthly letters are exactly what you think: secret dispatches that feel a little too vulnerable to put in a free newsletter.
Thank you, as always, for reading and being a supporter of my work.
36 Things I’ve Learned in 36 Years
I try to make a list like this every year around my birthday, a mixture of big learnings and trivial ones. This year, I’m making my list while knocked out with an awful cold (my first one all year). These learnings aren’t meant to be profound, but they are what’s at the front of my mind right now—through the haze of cold meds. 🤒 I’ve bolded my favorites.
Cheers to another year of finding my grounding as a resident of Earth. 🌎
You don’t have to finish reading a book. No one is policing you anymore. And never, ever lie about having read a book when you haven’t.
Learning to read tarot cards can keep you humble.
Writing projects take the time they take. You actually don’t have much control if there is no outside force pushing a deadline on you.
Nothing happens, and then everything happens. I got two years of no’s on my novel manuscript—only after I’d shelved it did I finally get a “yes.”
A slightly morbid one: I am ready for a tragedy to happen. I don’t want it to happen, obviously, but I am prepared to face the worst of life when it comes for me. (Yes, I know this sounds ridiculous. It’s impossible to prepare for tragedy; otherwise, it wouldn’t be a tragedy. What I mean is that I finally feel grounded enough to face what comes, feel the worst of it, and grieve. Maybe this doesn’t make sense?)
From Anton Chekhov: “If you want to work on your art, work on your life.” This is the gold standard of artistic advice.
Be the person who shows up to things as much as they can.
Breath mints are great for sudden bouts of anxiety.
Even if you have no one to pray to, praying can really make you feel better.
You can always buy larger clothes.