February 2025

Before we get started, let's check in. We breathing? We remembering to drink water? When's the last time you made yourself a cup of tea to simply enjoy a cup of tea? Maybe have a sit. Grab something hydrating. And cozy up with a sweater (or a fan if it's warm where you are). Then take a deep breath and a moment just for you.

Ah. Okay. We feeling a bit better? Good. Good.

So, this month's musing is a bit of a doozy. If you don't have space for it, that's okay. You don't have to read it. If you just want the updates and the recs, scroll to the bottom. And if you ever want to go back and read old newsletters, "last month's letter" will be posted here shortly after "this month's letter" is sent out. 😊

​

I'm not going to sugarcoat. January was both a giant shitstorm here in the U.S. (and beyond really, we share this planet after all), and an anomaly in the space-time continuum, clocking in at an egregious 75 days despite only being allotted 31. Rude. And non-binary kiddo, oh non-binary kiddo (because I'm done saying boy, oh boy), did my mental/physical/spiritual/emotional/everything-al health take a hit.

One day I was all #fuckthepatriarchy and the next I was sobbing into a tub of Ben and Jerry's, Googling how the heck to legally leave this country. But planes aren't safe anymore. And my passport expires next year. And... And... And...

Needless to say, but I'm gonna say it anyway, January (aka the state of the world) hardcore effected my writing.

I literally had one character tell another, "We don't feed the beast" — referring to an entirely fictional oligarchy [insert major side eye here] — "We feast on the beast." Not so slowly and very surely, all my projects are becoming femme-rage, queer-rage, discrimination-rage, "How America Wasn't Made Great Again" dystopian hellscapes. Oopsie.

But gosh, how selfish am I? To worry about my writing, and my barely existent authorial career, and my access to birth control when people are losing their jobs, and being pulled form their homes, and marching for their rights, and speaking out, and standing up, and digging their heels in...

I should be digging my heels in.

I can dig my heels in.

But how? I'm so privileged, but how do I wield that privilege? And I'm scared. But I don't deserve to be scared...

But I am...

Because this is scary.

On Martin Luther King Jr. Day — a day so muddled with emotions I still can't wrap my head around it — posts upon posts filled my feed. People hating one another. People calling for action. People begging for help. People offering reminders of love, hope, and togetherness. It was good, and it was bad, and after checking in with loved ones, I quickly put my phone down. I needed the noise to stop.

I went for a hike (again, such a privilege), then on the drive home talked through all the shoulds, and coulds, and woulds with my partner. I couldn't silence the fear, the guilty, and the panic, but all of a sudden there was room for a new, more manageable thought: What can I, a rando, writer-chick who knows jack about politics, actually do?

Because I'm not powerless, even if I alone do not hold as much power as our oppressors.

When I got home and peeled off my muddy rain gear, I sat with my fears, and my frustration, and did what we writers do best: stared a blank screen for forty-five minutes.

After that however, I made a list. A few days later, I shared it beneath one of my reels. Then one of you lovely humans requested that I share it here (and yes, I speak to myself in 2nd person):

1. Take care of yourself - operating from a place of panic/despair will quickly lead to burnout and ultimately giving up. A healthy you = a potentially helpful you.
2. Let people know you’re a safe space. Over and over and over again. It may not seem huge, but making space for others to be FULLY themselves MATTERS. BIPOC/2slgbtqia+/immigrant/unhoused/other marginalized folks need to know there are people in this world who love, accept, and support them, and will fight alongside them.
3. When able, shop small/shop local/shop women-owned/BIPOC-owned/2slgbtqia+-owned etc. Stop giving your money to the big bads because it's “convenient.” It’s time to get comfy with being uncomfy.
4. Follow more BIPOC/2slgbtqia+/immigrant/other marginalized creators, and like/comment/share. You want to amplify voices, here’s an easy, free way to do it.
5. Get all your friends and family to sign up for a library card. Show your local government you value library resources, the types of resources that can connect literally anyone to educational material. Education = power. (Hey you, reader, do you have your own library card? If not, go sign up!)
6. Read MORE banned books. Rave about them, share, and recommend them. Read MORE books by authors of marginalized groups. Rave/share/recommend, you know the drill.
7. Do the research. Everyone's asking: “What do we do?/How can we help?” But very rarely do they want to create an actionable plan. Don't be angry with them. Help them. Commit 1 hour/month to doing research so when someone says, “I feel so powerless/I don't know how to help” you can say, “I gotchu. Here are five things you could do to help RIGHT NOW.”
8. Call your representatives. Easy, peasy, free. Go to 5calls.org, pick your location, pick what you’re passionate about, dial, and read the scrip provided. You CAN commit to 5 calls/month. That's 60 calls/year. Totally doable.
9. Volunteer. I promise they won't be mad at you for only taking action now. They want your help. Note: I searched [my city] + "houselessness" + "volunteer" and found a non-profit near me in about 30 seconds. I've done outreach once now and plan to do it monthly.
10. Donate/encourage donation. We know from the oligarchs, money is also power. Start a fundraiser, or ask for people to donate in lieu of gifts for your next gift exchange. Get those people who say they don’t know how to help to help you.

Reminders:

1. You can’t do everything. Start small and build. Committing to one thing and doing it consistently is not only way more effective than doing 50 million things inconsistently, it's more sustainable for you.
2. Squashing your joy won’t make for a more joyous world. Don’t let the big bad squash it. Don’t let random people on social media telling you you’re not doing enough squash it. Don’t let YOU squash it. Write. Smile. Do the things that make life meaningful and bring you joy, and keep sharing that joy with others. No joy = husk people; husk people = unhelpful people.

The list doesn't make the fear miraculously vanish. Nor does it stitch the world back together. But it reminds me that even when I'm scared, and freaked out, and overwhelmed, I care. And I can be helpful. Because I can be all the things, all at once.

We know the from our stories that internal (and external) conflict is the stuff of radical change. We write reluctant heroes and villains who show mercy, we build hateful worlds then craft characters who desperately need love. The writer's toolbox is stocked with contradiction and complication. If we can face these things on the page, force our characters to do hard work and overcome, we ourselves can do the same, all the while feeling ALL the feels.

​

📃Current WIP(s):

• 🪷 Project SATC - adult chem-punk sci-fi/fantasy

📈WIP status(es):

• 🪷SATC = I received edits from Agent Des just about 2 weeks ago. I'm now 75% of the way through applying edits/making changes, then will do one final read through before shipping them back to Des and perpetually crossing my fingers and toes as they prepare them for submission🤞😅
• After that, I may dive back into 😶‍🌫️ Project FOG (currently on the back burner and chillin' at a chaotic 27k), or I might pick up 💉Project EG... Like a siren she's calling my name 😍🧜‍♀️!!

📚Current read(s):

• 🧢 I just finished Interment by Samira Ahmed
• 🪽And just started Perdido Street Station by China Miéville

✨ Other:

• 🇫🇷 French classes are in full swing! Thus far, je ne comprends pas grand-chose (pretty sure I wrote that wrong lol).
  ​

​

📘: Sister, Maiden, Monster by Lucy A. Snyder — def check out the trigger warnings, but holy smokes! What a wild, rage-filled, creepy, kinky ride. Expect goosebumps and trippy, brain-swirly goodness.

🎥: Touch with Egill Ólafsson, Kôki, Palmi Kormákur, and Masahiro Motoki — I know, I gave y'all a weeper last month, and now I'm doing it again. But this time, I'm offsetting it with a 2nd film rec: My Old Ass with Aubrey Plaza and Maisy Stella — okay, did I cry? Technically, yes. But was I also in stitches? Yes.

🎵: TBH, I've just been listening to Doechii and emo classics from my youth. So...Doechii. But also like...Three Days Grace.

​

Okay, my loves. That's way more than enough from me. Have a great weekend! Feel all the feels. Don't blame or shame yourself for feeling all the feels. Write. Read. And stand up for what you give a damn about.

​

Happy February! If you want to read January's newsletter, you can do so here.

​

XOXO,

Rain ☔