💌 : billet-doux
(#1) a pretentious word for love letter
Dear friends, readers & new subscribers;
I started this newsletter three years ago to the day (2 April 2020) when we were in the throes of lockdown, buzzing with anxiety and panic. I sent out an intro, a handful of people (let’s be real, friends - thank you!) signed up… then multiple drafts sat languishing in my Substack dashboard.
Since then, I’ve scribbled bits of writing everywhere! In my Evernote or Notes app, and even literal handwritten pages in notebooks… only for all of them to never see the light of day. In the last three years, I had set all kinds of deadlines to trick myself to start. Every 2nd of April (and New Year’s Eve), I’m reminded of how much time has gone by and how I’m still not much further from where I first began.
Clearly, bullying myself into starting was not working. What worked, though? Was getting to write for my friend, Emily.
In November last year, I Insta-storied that I had volunteered for our general elections and was trying to understand what my national identity meant to me. It was, at best, a couple of lines heavy with a story I had been trying to write my whole life. She picked up on it and DM-ed to ask if I was interested in writing a guest essay for her newsletter, Movable Worlds. (If you’re a new reader from that guest essay, hi! And thank you so much for subscribing.)
Em and I have been in each other’s orbits since we were teenagers; we shared similar curiosities but took different routes to chase our writing ambitions. But, more importantly, I have her to thank for pushing me to come through on this promise I’ve made to myself. Her thoughtful edits and care for my story, and the opportunity to work with her was an impetus for me to write consistently for myself again.
Our modern society has a glut of stories, art and content all vying for our attention. So it means a lot to me that you’re here reading my words, and giving me your space and time.
✍️ WRITING WORDS
A Writer’s Re-introduction
12 years ago, I decided to leave my rookie reporting job and go to graduate school. In the process, I embarked on a career-long attempt to run away from what I had always wanted to be: a writer. Upon graduation and a begrudging move back to my hometown, I was living out that millennial stereotype. It involved crawling back into my parents’ house too, no less! I eschewed all attempts to be a writer writer, usually taking on work where I would get no byline, saying yes to roles where I learned on the job (usually doing work that was anything but writing), eventually perpetuating cycles of burnout and recovery - all to culminate in angst and a deep unhappiness knowing in my heart of hearts that I was not doing what I wanted to do.
Getting back here feels a bit like discovering an old piece of clothing you once wore all the time but got sick of how it made you feel as your perception of yourself slowly changed. So you took it off, chucked it to the back of your closet and try to forget about it. Now you’ve dug it out and you’re pulling it back on again and trying it on for size. You hold your breath as you button it shut or zip it close, and then you run your hands over the fabric and smooth out the wrinkles as you step back to look at yourself in the mirror.
Does I feel like me? Do I look like me? Does it fit? All I know is that it feels just right. And so here I am.
Don’t let this newsletter’s title turn you away; it may seem self-serious but I promise I’m more known to gravitate to a much goofier disposition. The word has its place for now, though: a pretentious word for love letter - because that’s what sold me on the idea of starting this. The epistolary form was always my favourite; I do love a conversation. So, writing this feels like writing to a friend and I think I can breathe through that enough to get these muscles going again.
It’s better than letting it atrophy anyway. I spend enough time marinating in the words and emotions until the only way I can recognize its need for an outlet is just frustration and annoyance. It’s just so unhealthy to approach something I love in such a toxic way!
I’m still figuring out what I’ll be writing about. So far, the intersection of my interests are couched in:
pop culture - my media diet is usually what gets the wheels turning in my head (or a good snapshot to see where I’m mentally at). I find that a shared love for a piece of popular art brings some of the best conversations. I like searching for these spaces.
work - specifically, what we all spend our time doing. This topic for me usually also branches out into productivity, money and time. I’m obsessed with what we ascribe value to in our modern lives, and I like thinking about how we all go about searching for this.
relationships - maybe what I mean is intimacy and connection. More than just romantic or platonic, I love exploring inter-generational ties and community-driven hives. At the risk of sounding incredibly cheesy, I believe that these relationships are truly what makes life worth living.
Ultimately, it’s about the creative pursuit. My creative pursuit. A work in progress that is more than just an overthink and an underdo. So, this newsletter will mostly be a place for me to share what I’ve read and consumed lately. With some essays, creative tinkering, and a chance for me to start conversations. I’d like to make this more consistent as well, though I’m still unsure of its frequency or its structure.
Seems like a lot, and seems messy but eh. I’ll figure it out.
🫖 TEPID TAKES
I have an unabashed love for alliteration (my newsletter’s sub-head attests to this) and a real distaste for the hot take. Aren’t we just burnt out on all the discourse? It’s just so much noise which usually leads to misguided attempts at understanding each other. I’ve always been a bigger fan of ascribing additional thought and letting my emotions steep before I just throw it all out there.
Okay, so let me backtrack a little. For sure, overthinking and sitting on it has gotten me to this space and taking too fucking long to start, but what I needed was to dial back on the rumination. If a hot take is to underthink something, an overthink is what makes everything stale. I strive to arrive at the sweet spot: the tepid take.
Here are some of that, and it’ll give you an idea of the things I like to think and talk about:
Labour division in a partnership
For a long time, I sat stewing in general confusion that so many relationships who ostensibly believe in the ideals of feminism (some queer, but mostly straight) almost always defaulted to an unequal distribution of labor — one that got significantly worse once kids entered the picture. And honestly? I find the entire situation pretty infuriating. For those who carry the bulk of the unpaid labor load, it’s a root cause of burnout — even and especially amongst those with full-time jobs with flexibility. I’ve seen this sort of inequality fester and create relationship-breaking resentment; I’ve seen people complain and then gradually, over the years, reconcile themselves to it. And no matter how much theory you read, no matter how much you believe in cultivating a different way of dividing labor than your parents or grandparents did, so many relationships (my own included!) fall into these bullshit rhythms and norms that, once established, are incredibly difficult to change.
This topic is a big one for me; I think about it a lot, and about gender roles especially. I’ve returned to this interview a few times already, and Kate Mangino’s book ‘Equal Partners: Improving Gender Equality at Home’ has been added to my TBR pile. Like everything else I’m interested in, I love the nuances that lend context to how we solve problems and pains that plague our daily lives. I can’t really summarise it further, other than the fact that if you’ve ever felt beleaguered by an unequal partnership (in this instance, it’s referring to a domestic one) and would like to know what can be done about it (things can change! I’m hopeful), then it’s worth the read.
The very broken media structures we live in (for creators)
(‘In a vulnerable media economy, journalists are demanding ownership of their work’ by Alex Sujong Laughlin, Poynter Media)
Here’s how journalism used to work: A news organization hires a journalist for a salary drawn from a pot of money composed of revenue earned primarily from subscriptions and advertisements. The journalist reports stories, which become the intellectual property of the news organization paying their salary. Monetary value is derived from the journalist’s work as it drives public trust in the institution (subscriptions) and drives traffic to the piece (ad revenue). The journalist makes enough to live a stable middle-to-upper middle-class life. The journalist is happy, and stays in the job forever because of course there is no reason to leave — except for possibly a job in a bigger market — and a pension at the end of the road.
This is not what media looks like anymore. Digital ad revenue is not strong enough to sustain a robust media business, so organizations explore other forms of generating income: live events, subscriptions and memberships, podcasts, partnerships with digital companies like Facebook and Twitter, and intellectual property licensing.
Alex Sujong Laughlin is the very awesome producer of ‘Normal Gossip’ and I appreciated this breakdown of where we are with the media structures we live in. As someone who studied book publishing where ‘intellectual property’ and ‘rights’ was something of value and often negotiated, it’s unsurprising that this is where we’re at with the creator economy. It doesn’t make me more hopeful, but it also means that the best thing we can do now is to hang tight and stick to our guns.
(As an aside, I am a podcast fiend and listen to on average 20-25 podcasts on rotation. ‘Normal Gossip’ is an excellent one about real-life gossip that has been anonymized and told by the host, Kelsey McKinney to a guest reacting to the story in real-time. Definitely recommend if you’re looking for an entertaining podcast. Will write more about my podcast listening habits in a future issue.)
Going at my own pace
It’s only when you’re out of the moment, thinking about how you might sound, be perceived, or appear—that you’ll make an impression that is out of character (it’s only when you think about messing up that you actually mess up!) Because when you’re not present, you’re not you. You are someone else trying to hold together a performance that comes as close to the real you as possible.
I’ll be the first to say that I don’t actually need to slow down. Quite the contrary, I really ought to speed up. (Though people in my life would argue with me and tell me to slow down, so hey it’s all relative.) This Substack was a nice reminder to always listen to the pace I should be moving in, that it is really in my best interests to speed up and slow down at my discretion, and that I work best in a flow.
Developing taste is a matter of developing presence, because taste is a collection of things that bring you joy.
Deciding to have kids
(‘I help people decide if they want to have kids. Here’s my advice.’ by Ann Davidman, Vox)
“I need some peace and clarity from the torture of sitting on the fence for too long.”
If you thought it took me forever to start writing this newsletter, it is absolutely on brand that I am the quintessential on-the-fence sitter millennial when it comes to making this decision. As more child-free by choice folks are talking about making that decision, this article was more or less a ‘how-to’ make that decision in the first place, and that it was driven by a “parenthood clarity therapist”. It was helpful to remember that whatever decision I end up making, I’ll be arriving at it from a place of peace.
Book excerpt: That liminal space in motherhood
(‘Epiphany in the Baby-Food Aisle’ by Jessi Klein ,The Cut)
No one wants to believe that in the moments you felt the most peaceful, the woman cradling you so softly was shielding you from a sword that she herself was holding.
Every mother you know is in this fight with herself. The sword that hangs over her is a sword of exhaustion, of frustration, of patience run dry, a sword of indignation at how little she feels like a human when she so often has to look and behave like an animal. Mostly, it is the sword of rage: the rage and shock of how completely she must annihilate herself to keep her child alive.
Parenthood, childcare and education are also topics I’m interested in, even though I exist squarely as an observer and not someone who is experiencing any of these in any form. This excerpt was so illuminating because it details so acutely the emotions many mothers struggle to put into words the complexity of those emotions. It’s beautiful prose to me, but also the emotions depicted are so raw. I paid attention.
➕ a few more links
A French Village’s Radical Vision of a Good Life with Alzheimer’s (New Yorker): a story about how we can age with dignity. The idealist in me loved this.
The Joy of Learning to Drive at 37 (The Atlantic): a personal essay about taking charge of your own agency, intuition and how it’s never too late.
Once I Publish This Romance Novel, Please Don’t (Slow) Burn Me at the Stake (Catapult - RIP): I have a lot to say about how romance (and its iterations) gets flak as a genre. This talks a little bit about that, but more about writing for that genre. Also I love Nichole Perkins!
There are plenty more where these came from, but right now, these were stories that stayed open in my tabs because I wanted to share them but didn’t know where.
I know the links shared heavily skew to American media outlets and writers. And that they’re all articles right now, but I am looking to shake up my media diet.
❓a query
If you have any recommendations of literary magazines, Substacks or literally any writer that isn’t with an American lens, I’ll be happy to check them out. Please feel free to share them with me. If you have any thoughts on what I’ve shared and would like to talk about them, leave a comment or get in touch!
💬 PUNCHY POETRY
In this short Life that only lasts an hour
How much - how little - is within our power
- Everyone’s favourite recluse, Emily Dickinson
IG: @lynnegweeny | Twitter: @lynnegweeney | 💌: lynnegweeny@gmail.com
(P.S: I sort of made the 2nd April deadline. I finished writing it on the day, but this will be sent out on the 3rd. Ugh, that ‘to the day’ stamp would’ve been nice but it’s okay - reminding myself to just go with it.)
"I eschewed all attempts to be a writer writer, usually taking on work where I would get no byline, saying yes to roles where I learned on the job (usually doing work that was anything but writing)" and how that affected and reinforced your self-perception and made you try to convince yourself that maybe you didn't actually want to be "writing" writing so much — I wish I had known this! But it's never too late. Looking forward to your next love letter ❤️
it's alive!!! looking forward to the 2027 edition 😂 jk, that was an entertaining read, keep on writing