It should be said that as I began to type out this week’s newsletter I wrote a whole thing, a thing I am quite proud of, remembered that a literary magazine I have been wanting to submit to is currently open to nonfiction submissions, so I wrote it and placed it there which means I cannot write it all out here until I find out whether or not they decide to pass or accept.
The thing about writing and exposure- and writing shit that you’re proud of, is that you have to decide what you will try to capitalize off of first. What avenue will get the most bang for your buck. While I am querying my food-centric memoir I have to be strategic in when and where and how I share what. This often feels ick to my psyche and heart. I don’t like having to do all the work-through of “what will sell”, “what will get me the most/best exposure” and whether or not my creativity is smart.
Anyways, I can’t share that right here, right now. But I will do something adjacently and if they pass, it’s all yours, baby(ies). Promise me you’ll share it then, yeah?
We saw Origin last night and I won’t get into an entire movie review, that’s not my style, but what I will tell you is that it will make you sob as it should. It is beautifully crafted and shot. It did to me what my favorite writing does which is saying something, and it made me want to write. At any rate, there was a scene (no spoilers) that made me squeeze onto Anaya’s hand for dear life and I allowed myself to feel a feeling I don’t always allow myself to do and that is-
This dude is not going anywhere. He isn’t. The swell of emotion that this fact comes with is both destabilizing and comforting.
xxx
For the majority of my life I have been accustomed to convincing myself that what was in front of me at any given moment was okay. Better than okay, even. That it was good or meant to be. That I was lucky.
I had to. This is how I kept myself alive for as long as I did. When you convince yourself that your surroundings, the people, your home is exactly as it should be, it hides the cracks better.
xxx
When I realized that Anaya wasn’t going anywhere, that I didn’t want him to go anywhere, I felt (I feel) panicked. A feeling I can only compare to the sensation of starving. Like when you wait too long to eat and you can no longer decipher hunger or nausea. Like you’re empty and you almost want to stay that way because allowing yourself to feel satiated is scary. And maybe you’re not actually hungry at all. Maybe you’re nauseous.
xxx
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to food//and to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.