What is Assembling Remnants?

A reintroduction.

Last week, I gained over 300 new free subscribers. I also changed the name of my newsletter (again). Whether you’ve been here from the beginning (for over three years!) or whether you only recently subscribed, I humbly ask you to read today’s newsletter in its entirety.

Many of my new subscribers came here because of my essay “You Have Such a Pretty Face,” which was published in Jessica DeFino’s newsletter, The Unpublishable. I am so grateful to have you all here. I didn’t expect such a profound response to my work, but I think I should have. The essay is about how diet and beauty culture destroyed my mother and nearly destroyed me. Turns out, I’m not the only one who’s struggled with this lineage. This is unsurprising to me. Although I’ve often felt completely alone and isolated, literature has taught me that all experiences are shared, in one way or another.

That’s one of the reasons I became a writer, and one of the reasons I started this newsletter. Back in winter of 2000, I called it Gathering. You can read my first post here.

I’ve come a long way since then. In 2000, I left my Fulbright, which was in Europe, and spent months pet sitting in Italy, France, and the UK, working on my book (which is forthcoming in 2025). When Covid hit I moved beack to my hometown of Seattle, where I lived with four strangers. Soon after that I took a full-time nanny job (I’ve nannied on and off since I was sixteen years-old).

In 2021 I quit nannying and promised myself I’d dedicate myself to writing. The my spine stopped working and I had to get surgery. Two months later I moved here, to Florida, to pursue my PhD in English and nonfiction. The move was an act of desperation. I needed to leave Seattle, where I couldn’t escape the residue of my personal history and my mom’s suicide. (All of the posts from that time are available in the archives).

a photo from my last night in Seattle, over a year ago.

The first year of my PhD was incredibly difficult. We’re paid a paltry stipend and expected to do way too much work. My housing fell through. Twice. Even this summer felt like a blur.

But this year is different. Somewhere along the way I began to trust in my own resilience and capabilities. Maybe it’s all the therapy I’ve done. Or that book I read on Internal Family Systems. Or the other one I read, called Letting Go.

Or maybe it’s that I finally heard what the universe had been whispering this whole time: yes.

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So, what’s this newsletter about?

Assembling Remnants does a lot of different things, but it is primarily a space for inspiration.

Inspiration waxes and wanes, which is why I’ve created a newsletter that inspires all the time, whether you’re up or down, depleted or full.

“The Bathing Pool” by Hubert Robert

Assembling Remnants is an infinitely overflowing vessel, always filled with honest reflections, beautiful art, and thoughtful words.

Many of us are culturally trained to believe in perpetual scarcity. We’re convinced we’ll never be enough as we are in any given moment. We must aspire. We must grind, hustle, slim down, smile, and keep up with everyone else. This is especially true for people with marginalized experiences and identities.

This cultural training creates the illusion that enough is far away. Almost untouchable. But if we could just buy the right product or be the right person, we could get or be enough.

In reality, enough is always present, in each moment. We are never deficient.

As the writer of this newsletter, I grew up in scarcity.

But I also learned that scarcity is a state of mind.

Assembling Remnants is a space of abundance. All who enter here are accepted and loved as they are. You are accepted and loved.

Nothing needs to change.

Assembling Remnants is a revolutionary space. No one is too much or not enough.

It’s a space of learning and beauty.

As a writer and (accidental) academic I’m intellectually and spiritually grounded in curiosity and inquiry.

By subscribing to this newsletter you can expect a wide range of posts and opportunities for engagement, but don’t mistake that for a lack of focus.

Everything gravitates around acceptance and investigation. Investigating internalized personal and cultural beliefs via different forms of writing, readings, and community engagement. Exploring archival documents connected to literature and history. And accepting ourselves as we are in any given moment.

Releasing the sense of urgency telling us: get this done now.

Good writing takes time.

Reading takes time.

Learning takes time.

And it’s all messy!

Although I’m an academic, I don’t ascribe to the hypocrisy of academia as a whole, which mirrors everything about scarcity I described above. I am constantly working to remain grounded, joyful, and aligned with my personal integrity.

It’s not always easy, but I think it’s a worthy pursuit.

By supporting this newsletter financially, you’re engaging in reciprocity— not only are you supporting a writer who hails from an impoverished lineage, but you’re confirming my deeply held belief that we can support one another. My belief that art, friendships and relationships across time and space are not only possible, but sustainable.

This newsletter supports all who read it with an open heart. By supporting this newsletter financially, you equalize the exchange.

For transparency’s sake, I’ll share this: right now, I have over 2500 subscribers. Out of that number, less than 2% pay to read my work.

Over half of you, my subscribers, open nearly every single one of the emails I send you. You’re so engaged with my writing and this community! I love that! Yet, I spend a lot of time crafting these emails, essays, and spaces for you, and I am mostly doing it for free.

If I were wealthy, or perhaps even middle-class, I might be okay with that. But I’m not. Currently I make less than $30k a year— $2k of that comes from this newsletter. I have debt. I have student loans. I want to pour my energy into work that is soul-filling, but in a very real way I need to make sure that work pays me a living wage. But also: it doesn’t matter what my economic position is. Everyone deserves to be paid well for their work.

Become a yearly subscriber before October 1st and receive 30% off.

That’s less than $3.00 a month for a full year. You’ll have full access to over three years of archives, you can join our Monday writing groups, and you’ll receive all posts.

Free subscribers will continue to receive my monthly essay.

Whether or not you become a paying subscriber, I’m so happy to have you here.

Truly. And if you’re struggling financially, don’t hesitate to reach out and ask for a comped subscription. I am more than happy to oblige (and other Substackers have comped my subscription, so there is truly no shame in asking).

Let me know in the comments what you’re most looking forward to in this newsletter and the Assembling Remnants community!