Friends,

Happy 2026! I hope you’re feeling what I’m feeling right now: a surge of potential, excitement, and fresh possibilities. Maybe it’s the new year. Maybe it’s that weeks of rain and gray skies finally have cleared and I’m looking at brilliant blue from my desk. Maybe it’s that on December 23, I emailed my editor the final chapter of my book. 

Writing that sentence feels a bit surreal, even two weeks later. For so long, completing the first draft was out there on the horizon. Even as I whittled down the list of chapters to be written, actually finishing the dang thing seemed elusive. And then all of the sudden the last chapter was done, as was the whole draft. I felt elated, exhausted, and a bit disoriented. AJ and I celebrated with champagne and caviar, a Thai takeout feast, and a home screening of Sinners.

Completing this first draft is the biggest accomplishment of my career, and I’m immensely proud of how hard I worked—and bowled over with gratitude for all the help and encouragement that got me across the finish line. (Infinite love to AJ, who took on everything to keep our household going and get me to this point.)   

I’m ecstatic to be at this stage and excited for what’s ahead—revision! On a frivolous level, I’m also tickled about this milestone because it means I got to check off another square on my 2025 bingo card.

For as long as I can remember, my childhood friends and I have done something to mark the new year. Sometimes we make collages. Sometimes we write awful songs. Often we each pick a word to focus us. Last year we did that (mine was “ease,” which ended up being perfect in a year of challenges and friction) and we also tried something new: We made bingo cards.

The bingo cards were meant to be a mix of fun/easy and serious/challenging things that we wanted to achieve in the coming year. As I quickly realized, mine was often too vague, and far too ambitious for someone who was having her first baby at the beginning of the year. Even many of the “easy” things (“eat black raspberries” and “watch more movies”) didn’t happen, so forget about the hard ones! (My dream to “plan a trip to 2026 Winter Olympics” died halfway through a cross-country flight with the baby.)

But it was fun. Taped to the wall next to my desk, it gave the year a sense of possibility. And it also, silly as this might sound, provided motivation. I was going to be damned if I got to the end of the year and couldn’t check off that I’d finished my book draft.

For me, first drafts have always been the hardest part of writing; sometimes I feel almost as if I am trying to physically squeeze the words out of my brain. It’s a tremendous relief to know that the most intense period is behind me now, but I’m not resting on my laurels. After I send this off to you all I’ve got to dive into the revision. I’m excited for it; I’ve got the momentum of tens of thousands of words behind me and I’ve got the type of renewed clarity that comes from time off and letting the book simmer in the back of my mind. I’m nervous too because there’s still a lot to do on tight deadlines and from here on out the ball isn’t only in my court. The manuscript has to go through peer review and pass the press’s editorial committee and there’s another round of revisions somewhere in there.

To spur me on, I put “finish copy edits on the book” on my 2026 bingo card. Honestly, it feels like a bit of a gamble because of the sheer volume of work and the aforementioned collaboration. But I want to stretch, to have something big and bold on the horizon again this year. I’m excited to pour all this energy—which is my word for 2026—into pulling the book’s threads together and making it sing. Wish me luck!

The latter half of last year I was so focused on finishing the draft that I had little time for other things. I have no readings in the offing, but I do have two bits and bobs to share.

• Here’s an opportunity I would have jumped at pre-book and pre-baby: The Plumas Sun is hiring a full-time reporter to cover the countywide recovery efforts from 2021’s Dixie Fire. The Dixie was second-largest fire in California history, and even five years on recovery continues to be an important story. If you know a journalist who would excel at this, encourage them to apply!

• Time to sew has been virtually non-existent these past few months (aside from making my son’s Christmas stocking), so I’ve been getting my sewing-adjacent fix through the Blackbird Spylane newsletter. Admittedly, the Spyplane’s tone sometimes makes me roll my eyes but I’m here for their thought-provoking exploration of the intersection between clothing, design, and identity, like this “Hostile architecture” post that asks whether fashion hates women. (The answer, while not surprising, is still worth the read.)

Take good care, friends. Drop me a line and let me know how you’re feeling and what’s on your horizon (or your bingo card) for the new year. 

Warmly,
Lindsey