Live it.
021: news + letter: everything I’m doing to heal this summer!
I don’t really think I’m here to talk about chasing sun or plans or new playlists. This summer is dedicated to the parts of me I’ve been avoiding.
1.
Here’s what’s happening in literature right now (skip to topic 2 if you don’t care)
The BBC just elected the best books of 2025 so far.1
Yes, Dream Count by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie is on that list and we love to see it.
Group of prominent authors files lawsuit against Microsoft for using their books to train AI systems2
A collective of writers has come forward, claiming that Microsoft used close to 200,000 illegally sourced books to train an AI model, marking yet another chapter in the ongoing battle between artists and tech giants over the use of copyrighted material, something I know a lot about.
Not only am I part of this demographic, but I also had to watch people who spend years crafting stories, arguments, and ideas have their work become raw data for machines (many times done without consent, credit, or compensation.)
This hits close to home.
A Reform UK councillor's claim that he successfully had "trans-ideological material and books" removed from the children's section of local libraries has unraveled, but… turns out, those materials were never there to begin with.3
2.
As it has been previously said, this letter is more about the strange, unsettling realizations someone has during summer, you know, when it’s 3:45am and you haven’t slept and there’s something really wrong with you and maybe it’s because your mom didn’t really care that you had first place on that spelling bee contest once but it meant a lot to you so that’s why you go through your birthday as if it is a regular day every year and you don’t really tell anyone about it… or maybe it isn’t! Who the fuck knows. And then you knock out while watching a new W magazine celebrity ASMR video.
Here’s what I’ve been doing so far:
1. I’m having stupid realizations about consumerism at 2am.
I really wouldn’t mind wearing the same t-shirt and the same pair of jeans everyday if I was dancing my ass off at Glastonbury right now. I mean, If I could wash my clothes, of course.
If I was out and about meeting my dreamy Irish boyfriend, leaving a tattoo kiss on my Guinness bear. I honestly don’t think I would. I was talking to a friend the other day and, honestly, going out and meeting people and having fun can lower your chances of credit card debt (even if you’re not in glasto or Ireland). It’s not really the T-shirt, or the lip kit, or the pair of jeans, or anything like that, it’s the “If I buy this, I’ll finally be her” mentality.
It’s the fantasy we’re buying into, the idea that the right outfit, the right product, the right aesthetic will somehow unlock the life we dream about. And it never fucking comes. It’s all about cosplaying someone who has their shit together, someone who lives a life worth getting up everyday for. She’s not hiding in a shopping cart. She’s out there already, dancing in muddy boots, kissing cute people, laughing too loud with her friends, wearing the same outfit three days in a row and not caring one bit. I love it. I can’t remember what anyone was wearing when I recall every fun moment I ever had in my life.
When it stops becoming something you do for yourself, something that makes you feel good, and it becomes some kind of maladaptive daydreaming shit, it’s time to reconsider some things, and that’s definitely the big realization I’m having on these July early mornings.
When I’m low, isolating is actually TERRIBLE for me. I need to check in on my neighbor’s cats, I need to see my friends, I need to go to the movie theater and apparently shit on every single one of the popular movies coming out in 2025 except for ‘Sinners’ (@amaaandaaa on Letterboxd, by the way), which is really important to me, all of these things are really important to me.
Giving in to isolation means probably falling into patterns of passive consumption ( which is scrolling endlessly, watching things I could give less of a fuck about, eating in ways that don’t nourish me, yeah, I’m talking about cookies). It becomes a cycle of consuming instead of creating, which is really dangerous for someone who writes words for a living, what do you mean I’m only receiving this content (TW because I know some of you hate the word ‘Content’) like I’m being hypnotized by a cocomelon video instead of relating and using my own perspective to share and create more art? That’s not the point! And the more I consume without intention, kind of like a numbing agent, the more I feel hollow.
It has less to do with what you wear and more to do with what you do. It’s the memories you make, not the mascara you buy. So yeah, wear the same jeans. Skip the checkout. Text your friends. Go outside. Take your big swing. Fuck that one shop, save that money. We going to Dublin, bitch.
2. I’m realizing that I’m not a machine.
In this writing business, you’re supposed to fill every single gap you have in your life with productivity.
This plateauing process happening with Substack writers lately has scared the shit out of everyone, I’m almost hearing my mother saying “Told you this business was unstable!”, and to brush the thoughts of your mother calling you saying that there’s a spare bed, I know for a fact some of you are considering publishing 2 or more times a week.
You don’t want to write consistently for your newsletter and get through the end of the month, you want to prove to people that you exist. That you’re still there, that you deserve to exist in this place. You’re talented, you’re gifted, you’re persistent. But you’re also anxious, and you also beat yourself up everyday, because you feel like you can’t give up, you have to keep going, you have to be relatable and hit the nail on the head every time. When you do, you feel relieved, that’s your income, that’s your approval, that’s your validation. You want to be recognized, but lust and fear walk together in this writing business, and as you go on your way, you kind of internalize that, to be accepted, you have to be perfect all the time, you have to be perfectly consistent. You shape yourself to fit a mold that you’re not sure if you want.
We want to be seen, to be better and better, because that’s how we are remembered, that’s how we get called to events, that’s how we get noticed by our idols (kind of addicting when it happens more than once). But sometimes, you just want to be nurtured as you are, and you just want to discover that you can exist, even when you’re not consistent, even when you’re not impeccable, even when you’re writing about what you want to write about.
I know that not being productive all the time is scary, but you also need to realize that you’re not a machine, you need to connect with yourself and with the world around you to publish something worth reading, since our work is definitely a mirror of our own mind.
So, I’m here to give you the validation you need and to tell you that you probably don’t have to publish nine times a week. Give yourself a little break, go touch some grass and come back even more inspired. It’s a fucking hard ass job. You deserve this.