night, anxiety & handling emotions
seeking comfort, I write to you from the land of sandwich...
Dear Ones,
I woke at 4:23 to hard rain and wind, the pale glow of the streetlight. I couldn’t return to sleep. My mind was aswirl with anxiety and woe— a certain politician’s voice on the radio before bed, a voice that frightens me and will dominate for months (years?) to come. Also, my adult child recently told me about a cruel thing done to him at a sleepover when he was 13 and I felt crushed and angry! I morphed into mama bear, ready to yell at those kids men in their thirties. Yes, kids can be brutal, we’ve all been teased or harmed, especially those of us who fall asleep first at the sleepover. Sometime over coffee I’ll tell you my story about the awful concoction dribbled on my face by “friends” while I slept. (I feel a prompt being born: the worst thing that happened to you at a sleepover…) And then, ashamed by our vulnerability, by being the butt of the joke, we stay silent and carry the wound.
The next thing keeping me up, the final words of a student’s essay, in which the narrator is alone in her car in the garage, staring down a dark hole of unmet expectations, of harsh self-criticism and a creeping sense of failure. She grips her steering wheel and screams. Ugh. Those universal feelings: disappointment, vulnerability, fear, powerlessness…how? How do we ever sleep? As the writer Amy Hempel somewhere said, “How do we solve being alive?” (By the way, if you’ve not read Hempel’s short story, “In the Cemetery Where Al Jolson Is Buried,” you should stop here and click the link.)
How do we solve being alive? Ross Gay has written three books about delights. David Byrne has an entire foundation that reports only on good climate news. Chef José Andrés brings meals to people in crisis with his organization World Central Kitchen. Ada Limón writes poems that are necessary and deeply human.
And I with my tiny, humble axe chip away at my anxiety. I’m like a 5’1” Paul Bunyan, only instead of a blue ox named Babe, I have Stanley. I make mini joy-interventions. (Remember that time I baked a cake-a-month?) I write this newsletter to bring a smidge of light to your inbox.
Awake in the night, I tried to redirect myself away from war and factory farming. At least it’s not February anymore, I thought. And then, because I’m me and sort of silly, and, forgive me, here is where my trite comes in to battle my angst (oh my god, I can barely type this word) I thought of sandwiches. They remind me of picnics, of school lunches, of sunshine. They fit beautifully in my hand. At 4:57, when I couldn’t take it any more, I got up and made a sandwich. It was nothing special, and I wasn’t really self-soothing with food, I was keeping busy. Toast, cream cheese, cooked broccolini, chili-crisp. The smell of the bread in the toaster, the hiss and grumble of the coffee- maker doing god’s work, the semi-darkness, I managed to divert myself. I baked brownies for a friend recovering from surgery, I wrote a few thank you cards. I donated to World Central Kitchen and Friends Service Committee.
What do you do to divert yourself from the dark hole of despair. Asking for a friend…
read:
Over on my instagram, I’m posting extemporaneous reels called “RANDOM SELECTION” in which I pull a book from my shelves and extoll its virtues. Check it out if you like. Here’s another.
THE POSTCARD by Anne Berest, is the story of a Parisian-Jewish family, compelled by a mysterious postcard to learn the truth of their family history. Four names are scribbled on a postcard which arrives in 2003 at the Berest family home. Ephraïm and Emma, Anne’s great-grandparents, and their children, Noémie and Jacques, all murdered at Auschwitz. Anne is driven to discover who sent the postcard and why. The book is beautifully written, not an easy read, yet unputdownable. When Anne was a girl, her family was agnostic, non-religious, celebrated no Jewish holidays, and Anne says of her mother’s choice, “The only thing I truly belong to is my mother’s pain.” In that moment I feel I am Anne.
Our read.write.eat. book group is a once a month Sunday morning gabfest over coffee with smart and terrific people about smart and terrific books. Sound like your jam? Let me know by leaving a comment!
For March, we’ll meet on 24 March at 9:30a Pacific Time to discuss Zadie Smith’s, ON BEAUTY, which is a loose riff on HOWARDS END. The publisher says:
ON BEAUTY is the story of an interracial family living in the university town of Wellington, Massachusetts, whose misadventures in the culture wars-on both sides of the Atlantic-serve to skewer everything from family life to political correctness to the combustive collision between the personal and the political. Full of dead-on wit and relentlessly funny, this is a tour de force by Zadie Smith.
The r.w.e. book group is a perk of being a paid subscriber. Come on in - the water is fine!
Check my read.write.eat. Bookshop Store, where you will find many of the books I've recommended in the newsletter. Buying books from my shop is a way you can be a friend to the newsletter.
write:
I’m offering a Writing Day Spa at my home in Portland. See the details below and then hurry up and let me know if you’re in need of a daylong retreat!
Along with me, the wonderful Jennie Shortridge, author of five novels, amazing teacher, gimlet-eyed editor, and founding member of Seattle 7, will be in-house to offer a mini-talk, a prompt, and guidance to dive into your work.
If you are interested, please let me know ASAP. There are a few spots left. Cost is 195.00 for the day. Early bird discount when you register and pay by 15 March, the cost is 175.00. I hope to welcome you, to enjoy your company, and to hear your work!
In April I’ll be teaching a hybrid memoir retreat. The first session on 6 April, meets over zoom. The second session will be held on the coast, in beautiful Manzanita, Oregon, at the Hoffman Center, on 20 April.
Stamp Collecting: Writing the Memoir Bit by Bit:
Do you think in lengthy narrative strands, elegantly formed with a beginning, middle and an end? I don’t. I flit from image, to feeling, to recrimination, to joy. Light flickers over my memories, both happy and hard. I call these messy memories ‘stamps,’ events or moments imprinted upon me in unshakeable ways.
In this hybrid workshop we will write short pieces from our lives using storytelling techniques to enliven specific moments that changed us. We won’t be writing anecdotes, the funny stories we may tell a friend over coffee, or a seatmate on a long flight. We will be writing the stories from our lives that haunt us, with joy, and sorrow, and growth. Finally, we will look at how to arrange these stamps from our lives into a longer narrative that tells the complex story of us.
For more information, check this link. Cost for the workshop is 150.00.
I’m accepting applicants to my Friday morning Loft Workshop. We meet weekly over zoom to share and discuss work with the intention of growing, inspiring, supporting and learning. Each week two writers share 10 pages, read aloud and then discussed by the workshop.
This is a smart and dedicated bunch, some of whom have been with me for three + years, some are finishing book length projects, publishing work, and finding agents and moving forward! If you have questions, please do let me know. I’d love to learn about your work, your goals.
a prompt:
It’s part of my editorial soapbox… “Don’t make the reader watch you/your character cry, make the reader cry!” If you name the emotions, if you mention crying, sobbing, tears, or weeping, you diminish the emotion in your reader. Instead of naming, please, first show the situation that brought it on, next show where in the body the character is feeling the emotion. What gestures do they employ that reveal their inner state? Having a character ‘hold back tears’ is much more effective than having them weep! Consider this wise advice from Debra Spark’s essay, “Cry, Cry, Cry, Handling Emotion in Fiction” a chapter in her excellent craft book (which is only easily available from the bad place), CURIOUS ATTRACTIONS:
The way to get to emotion is to present what gives rise to the emotions, not to give the emotion itself. A story or movie that opens with someone crying is not moving. How could it be? We don’t know what the tears are about. We don’t know anything about the person who is crying. All we have is the emotion, and that, by itself, is not moving. To be moved we need to have a true encounter with something, the sort of encounter that coldness and emotional distance can provide.
By cold, Spark means be precise, be specific, and avoid melodrama, avoid sturm and drang in your language.
A student of mine, whose superpower, along with her writing, is resource librarian, sent along a fun and useful link: a master list of facial expressions as well as this useful emotion/sensation wheel. Check this book, THESAURUS OF THE SENSES: A Tool for Writers, Teachers, Students, and Word Lovers. And, finally, I offer this handy PDF!
+ a song that agrees!
The prompt:
Write a scene in which someone is given very bad news.
“You’re fired.”
“There is no easy way to say this, the test came back…”
a call from the hospital in the middle of the night, “There’s been an accident.”
“I’m leaving you.”
You are not allowed to name the emotion. Only show the character’s response. A couple samples for you to explore. “The Story of an Hour,” by Kate Chopin. “Chicxulub,” by T. Coraghessan Boyle, devastating and amazing, you can listen here.
eat:
Henceforth March = the Month of Sammies! For the next 4 weeks we’ll be eating sandwiches over here, elegant, inventive, tasty!
Roasted Delicata Squash, Halloumi, and Chipotle Sandwich
This is my invention, a no recipe-recipe. First thing, slice the delicata in half lengthwise, scoop out the seeds and cut into crescents. Toss with a little olive oil, salt, and chili flakes. Roast at 425 degrees for about ten minutes. Check that they are tender. Set aside to slightly cool.
In a small bowl, mix about 3T minced chipotle in adobo sauce with 3T mayonnaise. Set aside.
Wash and dry mixed salad greens and set aside in a bowl.
I used focaccia fresh from the bakery down the street and it was terrific. I cut it down the middle and across the equator. Next, I heated 1-2T olive oil in a cast iron skillet and toasted the bread cut side down.
In another skillet, heat olive oil and lay Halloumi slices in the pan to brown. Watch carefully.
Assemble the ingredients. Slather the chipotle/mayo on the focaccia. Heap the greens and delicata on one side. Lay the halloumi on the other. Put it together, and at this point I added a tiny bit of honey. I think it was necessary because the squash was a bit tired. (Truth, it had been in our house for at least a month.) Other than that, it was delicious. I served this salad alongside. We watched 2 episodes of FARGO, season 5, and it was an all-around great night!
Stanley always maintains his position that everything will be fine:
Thanks for getting this far in the newsletter. I’ll be in Brooklyn for a bit next month. Let’s grab coffee, LMK!
If you aren't on my mailing list, you can subscribe below. And, if you'd like to buy my books, you can do so here and here. To support the newsletter, please upgrade to paid. Comment, and like, and share with your funny and fun friends with the buttons below. When you do, I get an endorphin buzz.
Tell your people you love them, and take good care of your skin.
xN
Responding to the night anxiety and insomnia... I get up and go to the downstairs comfy sofa. I want to change the channel in my head. One of my favorite apps is Calm. They have sleep stories specifically designed to induce sleep. My favorite: Jane Austen's Persuasion. I practically have the first chapter memorized! Sometimes I listen to podcasts. Most important for me is to tell myself that is okay to be worried or upset or be sleep-deprived. Tomorrow will be better. Hope this helps...
Hi to all of Natalie’s readers — just want to put in a plug for her Loft Workshop if you are thinking of joining a group. I’ve been with her for more than two years now and it has totally changed and saved my writing. I’m writing memoir and teetered on giving up many times, but Natalie’s excellent, insightful and caring coaching has helped me to believe I really am a writer. Our group is so dedicated to each other and caring about our work that you can’t help forging on so that you can receive their feedback. If you are thinking of signing up, do it! Each week, you will be thrilled — even when it’s the week your pages are due ! Cathleen