Hello, friends!

When you last heard from me in December, I was furiously working on the draft of my book and awaiting the arrival of my first baby. If you’ve interpreted my long silence as a sign that I’ve been busy with both, you are correct.

The good news first: Baby Finn arrived healthy and yowling in early February! AJ and I are head-over-heals in love with him and delight in discovering a bit more of who he is each day. He’s curious, happy, fun-loving, determined, and easygoing, but he’s not afraid to let you know when he’s got an opinion (mode of expression: blowing raspberries). When he wakes up from a nap, sees me, and smiles, I feel like my heart is going to supernova.

Since AJ returned to work in May, I’ve been Finn’s full-time caregiver during the workweek. I love spending my days with him, but, for better or worse, that’s not all I’m up to. I didn’t hit my book deadline before Finn was born, so I’m scrambling towards a new deadline that I negotiated with my supportive and patient editor. 

There’s no way to sugarcoat it: Writing a book while taking care of a newborn full-time is hard. In fact, it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Some days I’m grateful for the brain stimulation that writing provides and eager to throw myself into the work. Others, I’m resentful of the relentless pressure I feel to get to my desk the second Finn is down for a nap and squeeze as much productivity as I can out of every minute he’s asleep.

Mostly though, I feel proud of myself for making it work and dazzlingly grateful for the tremendous support I have—AJ picking up the lion’s share of the housework, doing early-morning feeds and with Finn and giving up weekends so I can write; my parents driving down once or twice a month to give me a few uninterrupted workdays; my best friend coming up from LA to be Auntie Extraordinaire. Opening myself up to help has been one of the most beautiful parts of parenthood because it’s brought me closer to the people in my life and strengthened my community. (Whether or not you have children, it feels more important than ever right now to look out for one another and make sure our systems of support are robust.)

One other big shift has made it possible for me to dive back into writing: I’m trying to let go of perfectionism. As a freelancer, my mantra for nearly a decade has been “be easy to work with.” To me, this has always meant that the “first drafts” I turn in aren’t actually first drafts… they’re more like fifth or sixth drafts. Pre-baby, I’d fiddle with sentences for days on end, print out version after version. Now I simply don’t have that luxury of time. I’ve had to embrace sending my editor work that is rawer and rougher. It feels scary, and also like good growth.

In that spirit, I’m not going to let this newsletter sit open on my computer for several days while I overthink and tweak it. I’ve got a baby—and a book—to get back to. I’ll leave you with a few short items and will be on my way.

• If you’re in the Bay Area, please come see me read on September 27^th! I’ll be reading at the North Beach Library Open House with current and former Lisa Brown & Daniel Handler Residents. The Open House runs all day, the readings start at 4:00 p.m., and I’m reading somewhere in the 5:00-5:30 p.m. slot. The library is located at 850 Columbus Ave., San Francisco.

• I’ve read two incredible books recently for my own book: We Are the Land: A History of Native California by Damon B. Akins and William J. Bauer Jr., and Tending the Wild: Native American Knowledge and the Management of California’s Natural Resources by M. Kat Anderson. (Coincidentally, both are from my publisher, University of California Press!) These books have fundamentally changed the way I view and understand California’s landscape and natural environment (and even my idea of California).

• When Finn got his second cold and we were doing a lot of contact naps (and, consequently, I was doing very little work) I read The Names by Florence Knapp. This book has gotten no shortage of love, but I’ll add my voice to the chorus. It’s a creative and gripping answer the question we’ve all asked ourselves at one time or another, How would my life look if I’d chosen B instead of A? Its portrayal of domestic violence and abuse is hard to stomach, but I think the story is worth it.

Take good care, friends. Drop me a line and let me know how you’re doing, what you’re reading, what you’re thinking about.

Warmly,
Lindsey