There’s a timing and a rhythm to everything, even this newsletter. I have tended to push, jump the line, rather than wait for the emergence—but not in writing. In writing, I can understand the need for silence, why dialogue is best when it’s invisibly flowing between characters; that although it’s an artistic creation from a moment in my life (if well written) it will then take up space and breath in my reader, such that their mind begins to turn toward a moment forgotten, or an anticipation looming, such that their breath matches our cadence.
This here newsletter, this Substack came on a whisper from my podcast guest (Season 5 of Rebirth will begin July 21st) when she off-handly mentioned having me on her Substack.
“What?”
“Substack.”
“Oh, yes, I’d love that,” I return, tilting my eyes up and my head back; a motion that involuntarily happens when my mouth responds, but my brain is not quite sure what we are in engaged in and starts to tip open past files, and terms, toppling in-baskets of unread messages.
My guest has continued and ends on: “That will give us enough time to have you on and launch our Substack.”
“I’m sorry,” I shake my head, back readjusting into the conversation. “I have no idea what a Substack is. I thought I did,” I have learned that this is a totally acceptable truth, apparently speaking before knowing isn’t something that only happens to me.
“Oh, you’d love it. It’s a paid newsletter.”
“What?” I snap. “A what?”
“Yes — it’s quite lovely…” my guest, now off air, continues a very accessible explanation, and I make a mental note, to ferret out what exactly a Substack is.
Turns out it is the forum I have possibly been waiting for. Who knew? See, my long-awaited debut as an author (Hello, perfect book covers in the third grade, and padlocked journals of middle school) is happening in early 2022, and I have no idea what I am doing.
I have written, taught writing, improved writing, doula’ed (not a word) other writers and it ends up I still love it. I mean love it. Love it like a perfect sweatshirt on a dusky, September beach walk. That perfect mix of cool, not cold, fleeting but not gone, the cadence of what is to come. I had put writing in a limited box, and she is spilling out —here.
Deep wisdom knows only continuous learning — C.B. Reid
We have more on the horizon. Subscribe + share to hop in when the behind the scenes community opens in August. If we want to see it, we have to create it. We will be sharing inspiration from the likes of Terry Tempest Williams and Florence Shovel Shin and my personal favorite: life itself.
Thanks for being here. It’s going to be fun.
Kate