March was meeting my literary hero and doing the scary thing that made my voice shake when I said, thank you, you changed my life. It was Otis Redding and hide and seek and handfuls of daffodils by the river. It was savoring the best orange I’d ever eaten and canceling all my plans to sit in the sun. It was his hand on my thigh and someone else’s breath in my ear. It was crying in the movie theater and cheering with audible joy alone in the car and letting myself feel each and every thing even if it felt silly. It was my son’s big slow-blinking eyes, his eyelashes like wings, and forever trying to slow down time. It was seeing older versions of myself in the people I meet and being grateful for where I am now. It was full circle moments that felt both like the beginning and end of something. It was the sound of joy bouncing off the walls and making decisions from a version of myself that I am yet to be. It was my son’s laugh and the morning sun that pours through the window above my writing desk like a river. It was rainy days in record stores and dark chocolate chip cookies with flaky salt and crowded living rooms of friends and lovers. It was me leaving the house and my son yelling I love you, mama. Choose happy, and knowing in my bones that I’m doing something right. It was reading in bed for two days because of the flu and crying when the book was over. It was croissants bigger than my son’s face and watching him learn the words to the same songs I loved as a child. It was Calabrian chiles and almond gelato and the dogwood tree in full bloom. It was Easter eggs and lemon shortbread and petals falling from the trees. It was long hugs in cafe lines and not reading as much poetry as I wanted to and feeling the loss of language. It was the spring equinox and chocolate mouths and thinking I was pregnant and being relieved that I wasn’t. It was pressed flowers and my grandmother’s smile and her beautiful French accent in her fragile fading voice. It was honeydew melon and finally blurring the lines of motherhood and art. It was watching the swans at the lake and writing scenes that made me cry and dancing in the kitchen. It was printing my memoir and holding the weight of my own life in my hands. It was writing love notes on handmade paper to the people I love and teaching my son how to name his emotions. It was telling my young self and the self I am now I love you, joy is coming, and also knowing that it’s already here.
WHAT I’M READING
Hang the Moon by Jeannette Walls
Jeannette Walls is one of my all-time favorite writers, primarily because she's an incredible storyteller and truth-teller, especially regarding her own life. Her first book, The Glass Castle, changed my life. It made me realize that my story mattered and gave me the courage to write it.
I’ve been a lifelong fan of hers and will read everything she writes, so Hang the Moon was a no-brainer. I devoured the book in less than a week, mostly while I was sick in bed. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever read from her. You could say it’s her first true work of fiction, and man, does this story move. There are a gazillion characters, but I managed to keep track of each one and fell in love with a few, even a couple of the antagonists. I love when a writer crafts an antagonist who is multifaceted enough to be loved, to be rooted for, even though perhaps you shouldn’t.
Hang the Moon is set in Prohibition-era Virginia and revolves around uncovering family secrets, adhering to the laws of your people rather than your government, learning what needs to be done, and discovering what you’re made of in the process. The story is inspired by Henry VIII and his many wives and children, as well as some of the great moonshiners of Appalachia. I had the honor of hearing Jeannette speak about this book at a recent event in Asheville, and she mentioned that it took her seven years to write, with most of that time spent on research. Whew. And it shows. The entire story comes vividly to life on the page. Reading a work of fiction from her felt particularly special because I’ve recently transitioned from writing nonfiction to fiction, and this was a beautiful push of validation. It felt like a nod to my entire trajectory.
You can read my post about meeting her and giving her my memoir here.
The Giver of Stars by Jodi Myers
I’ve just started reading this book. It was recommended by a dear friend of mine, and if someone takes the time to tell me about a book they loved and think I would too, I will most likely read it. After my friend told me about it, I walked into the antique shop in my little mountain town and there it was, right when I walked in, on a stack of books. I thought, Wow, universe. Okay, I’ll read the book. Calm down. So, here I am, listening to the pings and seeing where they take me.
WHAT I’M WATCHING
Coda
Unfortunately, I don’t have the time to prioritize watching films like I used to before I had my son. Usually, after he goes to sleep, it’s nearing nine o’clock, and all I want to do is either settle into bed with a good book and/or have sex with my husband. However, when I was sick recently, I felt like zoning out and looked up the movies streaming on Apple, and I came across the film “Coda.” It’s about a high school senior whose parents and older brother are deaf, and she must decide between pursuing her talent as a singer (and the opportunities that come with it) and staying home to work in the family business to support them.
This is the kind of story that I not only love but also want to tell. How do you choose between two things you love? How do you choose yourself when it feels like it means abandoning the people you love in the process? And how do you make these decisions when you’re only seventeen years old? This is a big theme in the novel I’m working on, so I was eager to see how this movie handled it. It did not disappoint. I cried multiple times. I was deeply moved by the genuine love portrayed through her family and how closely they shared their lives. The moments of intimacy were so simple and quiet, yet they packed a punch. I sometimes struggle with intimacy, like the moments that don’t seem intimate at first glance but are, and this movie showed me how truly special they can be when you embrace them.
The film won three Oscars, but this is the first time I’ve heard about it because I'm behind on movies unless they star Timothée Chalamet haha. I’m so grateful I came across it when I did because it was exactly what I wanted and needed to see at this moment in my life. I’ve also since learned that it’s based on the French film “La Famille Bélier,” so I’m going to have to track that one down and give it a watch.
Poetry
Inspiration
OTHER THINGS
Choose happy
My son is already much wiser, kinder, and braver than I am, and I am forever moved by his ability to understand concepts and bring them to life in everyday moments. Lately, he’s been not so much fighting bedtime as stalling it. Our little teenager. He wants to go to sleep late and sleep in, which is mostly fine with me because I need my mornings to ground myself and write, and just be me before I also have to be a mother, wife, and daughter. But this stalling has taken on a life of its own, and it’s getting pretty ridiculous at this point. Now, he even has a little meltdown right before we shut the door for the night because, even after more than an hour of stalling, he’s not ready. Here’s the thing with crying—it’s okay. It’s healthy. It’s good. And I welcome all of his emotions, but sometimes he gets so worked up that nothing but our comfort will bring him back to himself. If I sense that he just needs to feel some things right before bed and build up some sleep pressure, then I let him cry. I tell him, “You can play, sing, cry, rest, whatever you need to help yourself fall asleep, but mama is going to sleep in her bed now. Whatever you do, I hope you choose happy.” And in this way, he can choose to cry if he needs to because you can choose happy AND cry. That’s the beauty of emotions. They can be so many things at once. But by reminding him that he has the power to choose happy, he often just lays down and goes to sleep. I have no idea if this is a good approach. I don’t read parenting books other than Simplicity Parenting, which I highly recommend, but this felt instinctually right for us, and it has worked.
My son has applied this to other moments in our day, and it’s so beautiful to see him making empowered, mindful choices and inspiring others to do the same. The evening I was leaving for the Jeannette Walls event, he said, “I love you, mama. Have fun. Choose happy.” My heart exploded. I was so nervous about the event because I was going to give her my memoir, and I’m sure he could sense my shift in energy, so he reminded me to choose happy. I carried his little voice with me every step of the way, right up to the moment I approached her, and it was everything. My little guide. He knows the way.
The other day, we were walking up the stairs because it was time for his nap, and my mom was in the kitchen, whom he calls Bomma. He said, “I’m going for my nap, Bomma. I love you. Choose happy.” It was the sweetest thing to watch him spread his joy, his wisdom, his calm. He’s such a little adult already, and it soothes and breaks my heart at the same time.
When loss feels like a clearing
I lost my only social media client. At one point, I had eleven clients simultaneously, which was great financially, but when I got pregnant with my son, I reduced my client base to make space for motherhood and growing our Rhodes business. In the first few months, I increased our sales by over 200%, but last summer, I was offered a position that was too good to pass up. An extra $4k a month for copywriting—I had to say yes. Initially, I was rattled by my decision because I knew it would take time away from my writing, which it did, but I found a flow that worked well enough and focused on the gratitude for the extra income instead of the lost time and energy. Just this month, we started to feel more financially stable post-baby. I even voiced this to my partner, and then the very next day, we lost the client. We joked, maybe we shouldn’t have spoken our gratitude out loud, haha, but of course, that’s not why it happened.
In the past, losing social media clients abruptly would send me into fear mode, thinking, Oh my God, how are we going to make up that extra money? I'd fall into a pattern of desperation and scarcity that, yes, sometimes brought us the necessary finances, but often it wasn’t what I wanted to be doing, leaving me grasping for time, energy, and purpose. The way this client terminated my contract was especially jarring. When I checked to see if they had sent what I needed in order to write the next batch of copy, I found they had locked me out of all team apps without my knowledge that the contract had ended. When I finally heard from them, they mentioned restructuring and running a tighter ship, blah blah blah. But the thing is, if they knew they were restructuring, they knew they were terminating my contract and should have given me a heads-up. But such is the way of business, especially in this field.
My family was visiting from Michigan for about a week, and the news arrived while they were here, so I haven’t had the time, space, and energy to fully process this. However, when I first received the email, my immediate reaction was fear, but this time, it didn’t last. Within about three minutes, it switched to trust. I viewed it as something happening for me, not to me, something that would only improve my life. That space needed to be cleared for something bigger, better, grander, and more aligned. I don’t know what that is yet, but I don’t need to. I just have to trust that it’s on its way. I am blown away by my response to all this. I’ve grown so much over the past few years, partly because I became a mother and my son illuminated parts of myself that I didn’t know were there, needing attention. But also because I’m doing the work. I’m attending therapy; I’m learning to meet myself with compassion, to trust myself, the people I love, and the Universe. I’m discovering what I need and how to communicate my needs. I’m learning to believe in myself.
We were having a barbecue outside with my family, enjoying the perfect weather, the warm sun, and the flowering dogwood dropping petals like snow. I held back the news because I didn’t want to spoil the moment. When I finally told my partner, we were driving to our son’s Spanish music class. He was upset, naturally, like, what the hell. Then he asked me, “How are you feeling? Are you stressed?” I could honestly say no. This is what needs to happen. If anything, this is a manifestation. I asked for this. I just didn’t know it would manifest in this way, but you can’t fill a cup that’s already full. So, here I am, emptying my cup.
Rejection
In the last month, I’ve received multiple rejections for my writing for two different essays, and my grant application was rejected. I have been waiting to hear back about the essays since December. It’s such a long time to wait just to end up with nothing, but this is the nature of publication. With every yes, there are hundreds of no's. For my essays, it’s usually about ten no's per yes. For my memoir, well, I’ve received over eighty rejections at this point and still have yet to get a yes. I’ll be sharing the whole rejection journey of my memoir in an upcoming Substack later this month, so stay tuned for that.
But for now, I just want to say that rejection is hard, no matter how many times it happens. It’s always a letdown, a long disappointing sigh, and sometimes I engage in a little self-doubt battle, telling myself, See, you’re not good enough to do this. It’s funny you even tried. I mean, who do you think you are anyway?
As time moves on and the rejections pile up, though, I will say that the self-doubt battles are shorter and less intense. The side of myself that I’ve been nurturing my entire artist-life will stand up and say, Hey, you deserve to do this. You do this because you love it, not because you need others to say you’re good at it. And then I shrug and keep going. Keep writing, keep pitching, keep doing this thing that I love, even if and when the no's far outweigh the yes's, because the only real yes is the one I give myself.
I often think of the story Stephen King shares in his book On Writing, about how he’d slide all his rejections onto a nail in the wall in his bedroom, and by the time he was fourteen, he already had so many rejections that he had to replace the nail with a railroad spike, and he filled that too. But he kept writing. There is no failure if we continue doing the thing that we love. We go from rejection to rejection, allowing ourselves to fall deeper still in love with writing. That is how we measure success. This is how, as artists, we choose happy.
Really enjoyed reading this one. The movie Coda sounds beautiful, will put it on my list as well as the "simplicity parenting" and I just adore the "choose happy" Story ❤️, you are doing a great Job 💪
& maybe fix the insta link too pls?! 😎