the more comfortable option

Today’s newsletter was going to be about rejection (stay tuned, that’ll be next time) because it can be tough to keep going when doors keep shutting. But then I had a revelation: sometimes I’m the one closing the door. 

I was invited to read for an online event hosted by the incredible Sara Lippmann. (Quick plug for her debut novel, Lech, which I chatted with her about for Vol. 1 Brooklyn.) An in-person lit event is happening the same night, so I’d have to choose one.

The latter was the obvious choice because it was the more comfortable option. The last time I read my work publicly was a small disaster. I didn’t feel nervous until right before getting on stage, when I started trembling, then I got very cold and was shivering, which I realized looked like more trembling, which made me more nervous, and my tiny trembles became huge shakes visible to all. Though the audience was extremely nice, I was in no rush to repeat the experience. 

this photo doesn’t capture my shaking

I told Sara about the other event and turned down the invitation. But then she offered another option: what if I did both? And yes, there’s logistics to figure out, but it’s doable. I’m grateful I didn’t have to choose. (Terrified, but grateful.) 

Because the only way I’ll ever get comfortable reading my work is by doing it. I’m giving a reading tomorrow night with a few writers who are way more talented than I am for our friend's creative writing class. (Once again terrified, but grateful for the opportunity.) I think eventually, after doing it enough, the mere thought of giving a reading won’t make me feel like vomiting. 

I recently rewatched Brené Brown’s TED Talk about the power of vulnerability. It’s worth watching if you’ve never seen it — or rewatching if you have — because isn’t being a writer (and a person) all about living wholeheartedly? And sending our work out requires vulnerability. It’s tough and scary to put ourselves out there and risk rejection (or embarrassing ourselves on stage), but we can’t get to the good stuff without taking a risk. Without getting out of our comfort zone. 

And to avoid the risk, we sometimes self-reject. We decide our work isn’t good enough for this or that publication. How many doors do we shut for ourselves? We often only see two options: this or that. And how many of us lean into the more comfortable one? The one that feels safer. Easier. The one that can’t hurt us. 

Yes, it takes bravery to plow forward sometimes — on the page, with submissions, in life — but we typically imagine a worse outcome than what ends up happening. Often the risk is simply feeling foolish. It’s doubtful anyone is going to be as tough on us about our mistakes as we are. I’m likely the only one who still remembers just how disastrous last year’s reading was. And I might’ve looked foolish, but also brave.

Reading Recommendations

Online: I love DW McKinney’s work and recently came across this essay, "Transfiguration,”  which was published in Hobart. 

Books: 

Recently read:  I hadn’t heard of Alejandro Varela’s The Town of Babylon until it was longlisted for the National Book Award, but I’m so glad I read this one. It’s nice to see this novel getting the attention it deserves. 

Currently reading: I’m only one essay into Elaine Castillo’s How to Read Now, but I can already tell this will be one of my favorite nonfiction books of the year. 

Up next: Nawaaz Ahmed’s Radiant Fugitives