June 2026

Dear ,

I went for my annual bloodwork this month, and my doctor told me I needed to get more iron in my diet. “Sorry,” I told her, “but I don’t see nutritional values. I just eat whatever looks most appealing in the store.”

Last week, I went shopping for summer wardrobe basics. The retail worker tried to point me in the direction of some tank tops. “Sorry,” I told him, “but I don’t see sleeve length. I just buy whatever’s on sale.”

Yesterday, I told my husband I wanted to be able to do more pushups, and when we went to the gym, he pointed out that running on the treadmill wouldn’t make my upper body stronger. “Sorry,” I said, “but I don’t see exercise types. I just do whatever I’m in the mood for.”

If this all sounds a little bonkers to you, that’s how it sounds to me when people say they don’t pay attention to whether an author is Black or a woman or trans before they pick up a book — they just read whatever they see on BookTok or has the prettiest cover or is similar to another book they liked.

With other aspects of our lives, we understand intuitively that balance and variety are important. We know that claiming to not see or care about the difference between a handful of shredded cheese versus a T-bone steak for dinner is abject silliness. We’re aware that trying is an inherent part of the deal and rarely is perfection what we’re aiming for. Why, suddenly, when it comes to the intellectual life, do some people treat not noticing or caring as a worthy excuse, or even a badge of honor?

To be completely fair, I don’t know how many people say this anymore. If you’re Online Enough, you know the claim to not see color or gender or queerness will be treated with the ridicule it deserves. While you can certainly heard it said by the lady checking out Amish romances from your local library, the people online tend to know better.

So what do they say instead?

“Let people enjoy things.”

Like a lot of phrases on the internet, this one originated from a place of good and has become flattened into a flyswatter for any kind of criticism. It now insinuates that, in order to be enjoyed, a thing cannot be challenging or unfamiliar or representative of an experience different from your own. An enjoyable book cannot ask anything of you; it must be a smooth, uninterrupted glide from purchase to last page. To suggest otherwise is to be a hater, or maybe something worse.

To be clear, I think everyone should enjoy things. Everyone should enjoy their Roman-inspired white-guy fantasy books and their winged Shadow Daddies and their self-discovery memoirs. Everyone should have a genre or author that feels like home, a little nest where they know exactly what to expect. But the notion that you couldn’t enjoy anything outside of that nest is worth a critical look in and of itself, and even if you found it to be true, I think it’s still worth doing. I discovered some of my favorite books reading specifically with diversity in mind — N.K. Jemisin’s Broken Earth trilogy, The Spear Cuts Through Water by Simon Jimenez, Summer Sons by Lee Mandelo. I’ve also found some that really didn’t hit for me, just as I’ve found books that didn’t hit for me when I was making reading choices out of comfort.

And that’s one of the strange things about refusing to branch out — we all know there are books in our favorite genres or even by our favorite authors that we won’t love. We know that our comfort zone doesn’t guarantee enjoyment, so why slog through ten of the same thing when you could experience something new and fresh? Just because a book is unfamiliar or challenging doesn’t mean you won’t enjoy it, or that it won’t have value. Difficult things are worth doing even when life is difficult. Hard times will take enough from you, and no doubt have taken something already; don’t let them also take your curiosity and empathy and willingness to try.

Given that this is the month of not just Pride, but Juneteenth, social media is already teaming with lists of books to try, and even if you’ve made a habit of reading diversely, there are always new areas to explore. Personally, I want to read more books by queer, BIPOC authors — I read a lot of queer books, and a lot of BIPOC ones, but not many at that intersection. Since I also don’t read much memoir or nonfiction, I’ll be on the hunt for that as well, and that’s the fun of approaching reading this way; in the whole overwhelming world of books, I’m looking for a few particular treasures.

What are you excited to read this month? If you have recommendations for me, I’d love to hear them!

News and Events

I have a very special sneak peek for you.

I am incredibly lucky to be working with watercolor artist Dory Whynot on an exclusive preorder bonus for THE DEVIL KNOWS HER NAME. The painting is not yet finished, but Dory was generous enough to share the work-in-progress with me, so I’m sharing it with you.

The full art will be revealed next month, but the finished print will be included with all preorders from Act 4 Books, along with a signed edition of the book and a personal note from yours truly. The preorder link is expected to go live early next week, and I can’t wait to share the finished art with you.

Your June Story: Welcome to the Body

A mind held hostage by a body, a desperate bid for freedom, a shadow on the wall. This story has been lurking in my head for a while now, but is it just a short story, or the start of something bigger? Time will tell, but I have a feeling Selfish will return…

A Moment in the Grass

Spring usually lasts about two weeks in Western New York, but this one was one to remember. The roses bloomed in a sudden rush, I successfully got a baby spider plant to root, and the dogs were, of course, good. Dogs always are.

Until next time,

-C