I tell myself this story about my college years that goes like this: I turned up in a bleach blonde wig with no clue how to fill in my eyebrows. I partied every weekend in clothes from the nearby strip mall. I was in the honors program, met many terrible men (if you’re reading this, hi!!!!). And I did absolutely nothing in service of my writing career during those four years.
Like most stories, this is a lie (well, except for the blonde wig1). It’s true I didn’t read a single novel the entire time I was in school, that I began writing my own loosely based on one of those terrible men that was an absolute fucking miscarriage of literary justice. But I also blogged. I called this blog Stuff We Care About. And I actually wrote things for it that weren’t half bad.
There’s a strong and clear writing voice present in these blog posts. I can’t believe how similar my 18-year-old self sounds to my 28-year-old one. Take this essay I wrote about college discipline snobbery:
The guy turned to me and asked me how often I party. Being an avid partier I shamelessly confessed to going out almost every weekend (I mean I am in college, hello!). He laughed and said, “I wish I was an International Studies major like you so I could party every weekend.” I then punched him in his face and walked away. Okay so I didn’t actually punch him in his face but I considered it.
I can also see the emerging journalist in my writing even though, at the time, I swore I’d never become one. Here’s a bit from an essay I wrote about a wrenching, very public assault that happened on campus.
An anonymous twitter string tells the story of a freshman girl who was r*ped by four men at Morehouse College…Following the incident, she reported her r*pe to the Spelman public safety and to the school administration, who then questioned her behavior, yet not the behavior of the r*pists. They allegedly questioned her on her choice of clothing, where her friends were, why she was drinking when she was under aged. Because under aged drinking is illegal. In the midst of this tragedy, I find that there is a sweeping fear for the image of these institutions. I find it hard to believe that we can be concerned with the image of institutions that cultivate an environment where the victim is blamed for their assault, where the perpetrators are allowed to walk free to assault new victims, where rape culture is perpetuated in the language, the tone, the very belief systems held by these institutions.
You’re probably asking yourself: why is this random woman forcing me to read excerpts from a blog she wrote when she was 18? why should I listen to anything anyone who doesn’t know how to fill in their eyebrows says?
Well, that blog was my path to this one. I’d forgotten all about blogging after I graduated from college, just as I’d forgotten that I’ve always been engaged in the act of becoming a writer even when I didn’t realize it.
So:
what is this place and why am I here?
I’ve been calling this newsletter my internet cottage because I want it to feel like a space that’s been lovingly populated with trinkets that we find together. Maybe it’s a bit of a mess, maybe there’s not a clean logic to the decor, but it’s a place you feel compelled to return to.
ok, cool, but what will you be writing about?
I’ll be posting craft lessons on story elements like tension, stakes, and voice. Interviews with cool people demystifying what they actually do, and how they do it, and the odd essay on politics and other goings-on in this dumpster fire world. You’ll also find chaotic screeds about what I’m watching or reading, personal essays like this one, and real-time diary entries documenting experiences like trying to revise a novel. So: if you like practical writing advice, some personal essaying, some pop culture commentary, chaos muppetry, and hot takes here and there in the form of unhinged ranting, welcome.
woah, woah, I like this cottage metaphor but who even are you besides someone who wears terrible wigs?
I’m a producer for the NPR show 1A. I’m also a writer of fiction, nonfiction, and shitty poetry. I love to write messy literary love stories that draw on my affinity for romance novels and my obsession with delirious expressions of female desire. Think Miranda July’s ALL FOURS, Torrey Peters’ DESTRANSITION, BABY, Brit Bennet’s THE MOTHERS, and Sally Rooney’s NORMAL PEOPLE. My current novel-in-progress follows a young polyamorous woman who falls for all the wrong people—including her boyfriend’s monogamous best friend and his girlfriend.
I’ll give my oddly mature, blonde-wig-wearing2 18-year-old self the last word here:
I started this blog because I wanted to talk about things that matter to us, to people. Stuff We Care About is exactly what it sounds like. It’s a host for articles that cover everyday experiences, problems, and successes that people go through. It takes my observations and my opinions and turns them into a platform for discussion. Stuff We Care About is a celebration of life and all the “stuff” in it.
in a full circle absolutely cunty moment, my REAL hair is blonde now.
Ok fine here’s one of the blonde wigs (they got slightly better with time)
