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It’s been a hard year. I’ve written about this in past newsletters, because it’s nice to know you’re not alone when you’re struggling. I’ve also been trying—with mixed success—to be gentle with myself. I have so many words I want to share with all of you. I just took a look at my planning spreadsheet, and I have four separate essays lined up for the next few weeks. I want to write about Olivia and the messy tangle of queer teenage desire and my first crushes. I’ve been mulling over an essay about the beauty of untranslated language in books, and the space it can open up for different kinds of readers. Something Alexander Chee said when he answered questions during the class I recently took about his novel Edinburgh has burrowed its way into my heart and so there’s an essay brewing about monsters and morality and queer fallibility.
All of these essays are yet unwritten, because it’s just…
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