Overripe/Underripe
Friends,
I’m sending this on the first day of school here in New York City, but I wrote it in bits in the weeks before, when my household seemed both in motion and in pause. Today my older daughter started middle school, my younger goes to school for the first time in memory away from her sister, and there is so much anticipation all around. We waited, occupying that liminal space, the space between stepping stones, a fraught and exciting and mysterious place. My older daughter, as she does, asked so many questions about what would be in her new school and most of the time I could only say I didn’t know. Right now she’s finding out, and the weight of what she thought might be will likely disappear as if it didn’t occupy her mind for weeks (months, really).
In many ways, it’s felt like a summer of in between days. In August, I turned 41. We spent a few days away, and on the day of my birthday, we spent the morning berry picking (superior to apple picking, sorry all your fall instagrams). When we drove up to the patch, the young woman at the entrance told us that we were coming at an odd time, that the blueberries were going and the blackberries were just starting up, but that we could still find some good picking nonetheless. So in we went. She was right. The blueberries were overripe, and when we got back to the city the best we could do was freeze them. The blackberries, which she had told us would ripen even after being picked, were sparse and a bit tart, but they mellowed over the next two days, and we ate them. They did just fine with some patience. The spoils are rarely the point, the picking is the pleasure.
For this birthday, my husband got me a film camera. I was raised on Nikons and film, but I gave it up for digital, and I’ve always regretted it. It’s a thrill to have it back, but I’m also feeling intimidated by the camera at times, at how much I’ve forgotten. One thing that I’ve found difficult with using a film camera is remembering to wait, to pause, to think about what I want from the shot, because I should only take one. I can’t the way I can with digital, click multiple times till it seems right. How often I do that without looking (my best Minnesota state fair pic was taken by pointing my phone camera into the sun). And then I have to wait and see what I did, with no potential for correcting it, with no re-capture. That moment in between the taking and the seeing is so so long. No instant gratification, but no instant disappointment, either. When the film gets processed, I hope to be pleasantly surprised, to not remember what it is exactly I wanted and be greeted by something new that I made.
My birthday trip was full of signs and wonders entwined with the new project that’s taking shape for me, the one I hope to turn more of my attention to in the coming months as my other draft gets closer to the one I’ll hopefully sell (I did finish it after my library mishap, and it’s in my agent’s hands now). I can’t share much about the new project yet (sorry!) but I’m both eager and patient for it. Things take as long as they take. There’s also pleasure to be found in waiting, in watching things wane and wax (oh hi here we are talking moons again), in the in-between times. One thing scarce and overripe and the other ripening.
Reading, Thinking, Feeling
Spent the last summer adventure with my kids at the beautiful and elaborate Untermyer Gardens in Yonkers. I highly recommend a day trip if you’re in range.
My father sent me this essay on a photographer’s return to film, and it says so much about living the slow life that we are giving up and chasing all the time.
Betty Gilpin on WTF podcast. Besides being a comic genius, she’s also just kind of a life genius. Loved hearing her talk about male tunnel vision fuck you-ness, the vestibule, the scroll, and the porn poodle problem. Her essays are brilliant if you haven’t read them yet. Here’s one and another one I recommend.
Books I’ve loved this summer: Danzy Senna’s NEW PEOPLE, Melissa Febos’s ABANDON ME, Laura Van den Berg’s FIND ME. That's the order I read them in, it could be a poem, couldn't it?
Went to the Minnesota State Fair. Watched a llama obstacle course. Will never be the same. Not much has changed about llama behavior since 2010.
Where to Find Me
On Thursday, September 12th, I’ll be in conversation with Stephanie Jimenez about her powerful debut novel, THEY COULD HAVE NAMED HER ANYTHING at my beloved Word Up Community Bookshop/Librería Comunitaria in Washington Heights. Please come by! Word Up is at 165th and Amsterdam. We start at 6:30 PM.
I had the great honor of being interviewed by Peter Kispert for American Short Fiction. His questions were so thoughtful and insightful. Peter’s collection of stories I KNOW YOU KNOW WHO I AM is pretty amazing, and you should pre-order it and trust me, this won’t be the last I’ll gush about it or that you’ll hear about it.
I’m starting my class on short story revision at Catapult on Saturday, September 14th, meeting every other week through October 26th. It’s a masterclass that will take you through revising a short story, forcing you to get the work done and also build skills for the next round. It’s equal parts hand-holding and kicks in the pants and I’d love to have you there. We always have a good time, I promise. There are still spots available. You can snag yours here.
That's all for now. Remember, never open an umbrella above a llama you don't know.
Talk soon,
Danielle