why I left twitter

a quick note hello

Dear writer friends,

Sorry for the radio silence. I think you know I’d be here every day if I could. The PhD program is consuming me in a not-so-good way. I’m not sure I’ll be there for as long as I said I would.

There’s good news, though.

Yesterday I had a meeting with my agent and editor, and we talked about my forthcoming book’s release date (spring 2024) and some revisions I’ll be doing for the next few months.

For the first time, I have actually absorbed the news that I have a book coming out, which is kinda wild, because I sold my book three years ago.

The thing is, I’ve been in survival mode for my whole life, and when we grow up in survival mode and do things in survival mode, it’s hard to believe it when good things are going to happen.

And, now that I am truly absorbing my impending book release, I am asking myself a question I haven’t dared ask myself in a long time (or maybe ever).

I am asking myself: if I had the life I really wanted, what would that look like?

And the truth is, I’m already there in a lot of ways. Over a decade ago I left firefighting to become a writer. I got a scholarship to Syracuse, and graduated at 35. I got my MFA at 38. But then, I kind of lost trust in myself and the universe.

How that happened is something I’ll share later, but it’s only just now that I’’m realizing how I haven’t let myself ask the whole question: what would my life look like if I could create it for myself?

I’m not talking about woo-woo manifestation. I’m talking about trusting myself and what I have to offer. Trusting my ability to teach, and write, and trusting my own resourcefulness.

a hibiscus spotted on my walk

You see, I keep telling myself I can’t do it.

But I’m starting to realize that I have already done it.

That ten years ago, I was a brand new undergraduate who imagined the very life I am living now.

And I got here through my own hard work.

But I only imagined into “becoming a writer.” I didn’t think farther than that, or more specifically. I didn’t ask myself who I wanted to write for, or what kind of writing I wanted to do, or if I wanted to be in academia at all.

I didn’t ask myself because I was taught not to ask myself what I wanted.

So, some of that work is what I’ll be writing about here over the next couple weeks. I’m also going to be refashioning The Writer a bit. You’ll hear more about that later.

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I deactivated my twitter.

I got an email today that said people feel trapped into being on twitter. You know what? I miss my friends from twitter. I really do. But I am not here to support some megalomaniac dickhead who thinks it’s cool to charge people for ridiculous blue check marks. What kind of precedent does that set? Why do we hold ourselves captive to these shitheads?

Yes, there are (were) good things about twitter. But to think that we need it to be writers or creators is absurd.

ABSURD!

Anyways, I left. No judgement if you’re still there. If fact, I’d love to know what’s happening if you’re willing to share in the comments. How are you feeling about it all?

I also left Instagram and TikTok, because why not? No shade, but they were sucking up precious time that is now going towards more worthwhile things. Insta is 72% ads nowadays, right?

Anywho— I’ve missed you and I promise I’ll be here more. I’m just going to retool some things and possibly change the name of this newsletter (again). I will also be bringing back some writing sessions. After this godforsaken semester ends.

My favorite lake walk in Tallahassee