Change is Good

On doing the next right thing for The Next Write Thing, you, and me.

It’s a long one, folks, but I haven’t spent much time here lately.

Gotta catch up!

The Beginning

Life feels messy right now. It also feels fabulous.

I came to Substack in January 2024 with a clear purpose. My purpose was to write about my 12-Step program and my ongoing recovery from disordered eating and thinking. I was doing it to give back and share my experience.

By doing it, I was finally embracing the writer who dwelled within. I was taking this step to claim the dream I only ever danced around.

Up until that point, I dabbled in writing as a storyteller in local shows but never committed to more serious writing.

It was a safer way to ease myself in, a fun challenge for sure, even with all the things that scared me about getting on a stage in a body I was ashamed of.

So, was it safer? Maybe not, but I did it anyway. I often push myself to face my fears and I discovered I love telling stories. I love having an audience. There was a performer in me who was coming alive. That’’s another thing I flirted with but never pursued.

Paralyzing fear of failure will do that to a person.

Doing story slams ignited my competitive nature. It was a side of me that I wasn’t proud of, except when it came to childhood spelling bees. Comparing myself to others became a trap. I wanted to be a winner. I wanted to know what winning felt like. “Winning” and I were not well-acquainted.

Easier not to play than to risk embarrassment.

There was something about the storytelling that I needed to pursue. I wasn’t great at it, at first. I don’t think I’m great at it, yet. But that’s not important. What’s important is the process, the learning. It takes education and time to learn to write and tell good stories.

I never won first place in my local slam, but eventually, I took 2^nd and 3^rd place prizes several times, and that was more than good enough.

As a storyteller I didn’t write more than 500 words per show, 2 or 3 times a year. 1500 words a year. That was it, that was all.

My whole life, I never kept a diary, a journal. I tried, but I was too harsh a critic. I’d read back the first sentence I penned, deem it dreadful, and abandon the entire notebook. I have a shelf full of empty notebooks, but for the one or two sentences entered in each.

I attended occasional memoir workshops, but never committed to it. I was always afraid to get it wrong, I was convinced my words weren’t good enough, powerful enough, or original enough to share, no matter what the teachers said about my skills or my promise. It was too uncomfortable to accept their encouragement, their praise. I didn’t trust them. I didn’t trust myself.

Why would anyone want to hear what I had to say?

The Middle

Over the last 3 years:

• I attended 12-Step meetings, sometimes daily, and I did a lot of therapy.

• I recovered from decades of severe depression.

• I made great progress healing my disordered eating.

• I became best friends with myself, and I began to make my dreams real.

• I was fueled by my passion for 12-Step work and getting to know this interesting, fallible, lovable person named Nan, and I forgave myself.

In coming to Substack, I saw possibilities where none existed before.

I realized that there was more for me to write about than just my food recovery and I’ll fill you in on how that’s going another day. I live in recovery, and it’s affecting every area of my life in wonderful, affirming ways. I wanted to write about my whole life, everything I’ve done, I didn’t want to share myself selectively, piecemeal. I can’t compartmentalize my life.

All of this has given me so much freedom.

I began my new graphic design business on Substack. I help writers with branding, and I teach them how to find their way around this often-confusing space.

Last November, as many of you already know, I started an online, monthly storytelling community on Substack, too.

As a result, my time’s been spread thin, and I haven’t been around here much. I work long days, every day. I miss you.

For the last couple of months, I’ve been tossing ideas around for different ways I can do it all. I have 3 different stacks (it’s a little crazy) and I love each of them for different reasons. I’m longing for the time to go back to working on my memoir-in-progress, on top of all the other things I’m doing.

I’m one person, wearing more hats than my hat rack can reasonably hold. The hats have been tumbling to the floor.

That’s the way my life is now. I’m busy building something I believe in. It’s work for sure but it’s work that’s turned into play. I’m like a little kid with brand new box of crayons. All 64 colors.

The story slam is growing; it’s exciting and fun. It’s a community we’re building together. I need community more than I ever have. This is a fraught time for a lot of us, the future feels shaky, the time we’re in is very strange, and when I give in to my internal spin, (which doesn’t happen as often as it used to) I get scared.

The last thing I want to do now is hide out of fear. I’m not one of those people who goes to marches or protests; I’ve never attended a No Kings Day event. Crowds of people, especially in these times, isn’t right for me. But at heart, I’ve always been an activist and freedom-fighter.

I need to express that part of my nature. To do that, I started the slam. A feminist slam. Women’s rights are on the table, again. They want to take us down, again. They’ve taken Roe, they want to take away our vote, next. I’m not okay with that. You?

My life is coming full circle. The dreams I had as a child are coming true. I’ve never been just one thing. My whole life has been fueled by curiosity.

I’m a writer. An artist. A performer. It feels so good to say it out loud. I’m a good friend with a lot of beautiful people in my world. Most of them “live” here, too, on Substack. It’s another element that was missing from my life, for most of my time on this planet. I isolated on purpose as a defense against heartbreak and shame.

I don’t do that anymore.

This is a time in our history when the temptation is there to make ourselves feel safe by disappearing, hiding. Nope. I won’t do that. I can’t.

But I’ve gone missing from The Next Write Thing. I don’t want to do that, either.

I don’t want to lose you, and I need to live a balanced life. So, I’m getting creative. The thing I learned in writing about everything, and not just about my disordered eating, is that you may be reading my work because you relate to my experiences, you may be reading because you relate to me.

We’re in a relationship and I want to grow that connection, not lose it. I want to share what’s happening. My essays may be shorter than they’ve been in the past or not. I’m still figuring out what form this will take going forward. I think not knowing is exciting.

I never used to feel that way about “not knowing.” I needed the safety of certainty.

But guess what? There’s no such thing as certainty. It’s an illusion. So, I propose we march gaily forward, and see what happens next.

What is the next right thing?

I just took a small break from writing this piece to do the puzzles in the Times. My daily practice. I also saw and read an article that leads with the title, “America Is Atomizing” (gift link).

We’re breaking into smaller communities because of the division in politics, religion, and other belief systems. There are growing racial divides because of the fascist immigration sweeps, served on the rocks. The sowing of chaos is being generated by the people in power. They want chaos. They want us divided.

There’s a feeling of mistrust and fear all around us.

It’s weird out there, for sure. I don’t want to stop interacting with the people who enrich my life. I want to provide a community for us to share our lives, our talents, our need for each other. I want to tell meaningful stories. Being in community is a human desire that can’t be replaced by distractions from the very connection that human beings need to thrive.

I need that. How about you?

I need you. I need the slam. I need to do the artwork. I need quiet time to write. Because when I write, I grow.

I’m doing another pivot because the idea of walking away from my first Substack publication is something I’m not willing to do, but the framework has to shift.

From the first essay I published in 2024, what I’ve done is share myself with you. I’m that person who resisted writing entries in a multitude of private notebooks.

I’m going to write about what I’m learning being a creator of a community. I’m going to write about the challenges I meet every day, to make something beautiful every month, something that connects us, one to the other.

I’ll share the short stories I write each month for the slam, and what happens as I learn to trust others, to get humble at every turn, to learn that it works to honor someone else’s process. To let go of my need to control. It doesn’t work.

So, it may be messy, it may be funny (I hope!). I’ll always be honest with you in this space.

Part III: Not The End, Not Nearly!

I’m going to put paid subscriptions on pause for now.

That means that if you’re a paid subscriber, you won’t be charged for reading The Next Write Thing for a while. You won’t be charged until my schedule lightens a bit, if it ever lightens a bit! If I decide to reactivate payments, I’ll let all of you know well in advance.

I want you to come to the slams if it interests you, if you’re curious and want to see what it’s all about. If you have the desire to see other marvelous writers sharing their hearts and minds, the ones who tell fabulous stories each month. They’re amazing. The stories are true; they’re based on a different theme for each show. We’re about to present our 8^th monthly show, Sister Suffragette!

Voting in the U.S. is being threatened. We can’t sit by and say nothing.

The themes are topical to our lives and the times we’re living in. The live show takes place on Zoom. It’s a global event. No borders. We record each show, so it’s always available to watch for free. And there are no paywalls. Ever.

Come see what I’ve been up to. Let’s make our lovely community larger and more united.

We can’t lose track of one another right now. Let’s come together as single atoms to create something larger, something splendid, something gorgeous. What is it?

Connection.

Part IV: The End (of this story!) The Offering

I want you to come play, so I’m offering a special discount to all the readers here. Normally, a paid subscription costs $100 a year for Wham! Bam! Thank You! Slam! It’s like a season ticket to every live show, with the bonus of my newest project, Wham! Bam! Book! Slam!

You’ll get to see authors who are writers on Substack launch their newly published books. It’s a book event with a storytelling twist. I want to offer you a gift. A one-year paid subscription for $20. That’s less than $2 a show. Or you can pass on the live event and see all the stories for free after the live presentation.

If paying for a subscription is prohibitive for you right now, even with the discount or you want to sample a slam before you subscribe, send me a DM and I’ll add you to the guest list.

Come play. Let’s move closer together, rather than further apart. Whatever you decide is your next right thing is what I want you to do.

Over 90 writers have gotten involved since the slam was launched. That’s remarkable to me and it’s still in its baby phase. Every time I produce an event, I learn something new, I evolve. I do better.

Why? Because the slam is life. And right now, my life is the slam.

I want you in my life. I hope you’ll take a peek.