Hello loves near and far,
This week, I was honored to be featured on the Resource Center for Women and Ministry in the South (RCWMS) blog. RCWMS! The series of letters that I have loved getting everyone in my life to memorize!
What does RCWMS do? So much! Their website says: “At RCWMS we believe in the power of gathering together to transform ourselves, our communities, and the world. We believe in the power of the written word to share our truths and inspire each other. Join us for workshops and retreats to nurture your creative and spiritual practices. Engage with us in spiritual activism and protest as spiritual practice. Help us build bridges, amplify voices, and reconnect to what is most important.”
I mean, I’m in.
My friend Rachel at RCWMS asked me some questions about this here Substack, and I was delighted to share.
What is your earliest memory of writing?
I remember writing poems in a sparkly notebook in the second grade. And yes, I did read them in front of my class—but I have no memory of how ambivalently they were probably received. Which is for the best.
(This preceded the time in the third grade where I wrote a chapter book about the anthropomorphized hula hoops we played with at recess, of which I printed multiple copies at home, using all my parents’ printer ink.)
What feels most life-giving about writing at this juncture in your life? What feels most challenging?
I have really been appreciating my writing community lately! I have participated in
’s women writer’s workshop for at least three years, and there’s really nothing like being held by a group of people who genuinely care not just about writing, but about you. I know a lot of writers have little naysayers in their head that purely sound like mean former workshop participants (usually men, who don’t like women talking about their feelings…). I don’t have that voice in my head, but I do have a regular series of voices that remind me that my words matter.Having unstructured time in this season of my life has actually made finding time to write more challenging. At L’Arche and at Duke, I was often so busy that finding moments to write felt so precious and dear. Now I have the privilege of several mornings a week where I could write for hours…or, I could fiddle around in my garden, take a nap, read a book, watch TV. And I’m working on finding a balance between structure and letting the soft animal of my body do its thing. So I definitely have some work to do around finding a good writing routine in this season of my life.
In the past few years, you completed your undergraduate degree at Duke University, interned at RCWMS, and lived in a L’Arche community in Washington, DC. Now you are in a season of intentional rest in South Carolina. How have your ideas and experiences of embodiment changed throughout these different roles and locations you’ve recently inhabited?
It was easy to live from the neck-up at Duke; my work at RCWMS, and my writing in Flesh and Bones show the real inklings and beginnings of me moving intentionally back into my body. L’Arche is a school for life for many young people, and I definitely experienced that. I left the Duke environment, focused so much on productivity, perfection, performance—and showed up at a place where my job was to keep fellow humans alive, keep a house relatively tidy and put some food on the table, and do all of these things while including each other as much as possible. And inclusion sometimes means things moved slower, or the eggs were a little burnt, or the windows were a little streaky. And L’Arche taught me that that’s just fine!
Especially during the pandemic restrictions, which lasted much longer in the group home setting than the outside world, my focus really narrowed to the bodies in front of me. And if I spent 20 minutes convincing someone to brush their teeth—why wouldn’t I make sure to brush my teeth before bed? And floss? And take my meds? And get a full night’s sleep? And drink some water while I’m at it?
What I will say is that L’Arche work was often hard on the body—you can’t delay a bathroom trip or a doctor’s visit because you’re in pain. Nor do one person’s bodily needs stop because another person’s bodily needs are time-consuming or challenging. So my focus in this season in South Carolina is to remember that I can prioritize my own body and her needs. I can plan around the times when my body has more energy. I can take breaks when I need them. I can leave dishes in the sink because I’m just ready to go to bed. (Come back and ask me about that when the fruit flies start sneaking in this summer, though.)
What intrigues you about Substack as a platform for folks to read and engage with your writing?
I’ve been considering Substack for a very long time. I like how it feels a bit like blogger culture, where artists have total control over what they write and readers opt-in to receive it. I also adore when people reply to the emails, or comment, and I can feel like I connected with someone in a deep way. I still feel ambivalent about the goal of growing my audience—what if my audience is exactly the right size? What if I tell people to subscribe and I start sound like, *gasp,* an internet influencer? And the money issue is a big deal! Currently, all of my writing is free, but it goes behind a paywall after two weeks. This summer, I’m hopeful to introduce paid posts, and to run an interview series where I actually pay my participants…but still, asking for money? In this economy? (Meanwhile, I never mind if people writing Substacks or making podcasts or crowdfunding ask for money. It’s just me.)
I do think the whole project is helping me to unlearn the lies that writing is not important. People have told me that words I write are important to them, and that they are glad they get to read them. That is so, so validating.
Speaking of which…
I’m so grateful for the existence of the Resource Center, and for each of you. Thank you for being here.
Much love, sweet friends.
Liddy
I loved this interview. Thanks so much for the shout out, Liddy!