The Longest Shortest Time(s)
Welcome to Narrative Notes, the quarterly newsletter of journalist Lindsey J. Smith, whose writing explores the way climate change is altering our relationships with the places we love. Did you stumble across this by accident? Click to subscribe.
Hello, friends!
True to my word, here I am with another quarterly newsletter. The days, weeks, and months since I last wrote to you have gone by in a blur; my brain seems to be unwilling to accept that not only is it December but that we are days away from 2025.
The speed with which time is passing has been heavy on my mind lately. I’ve been fully focused on the first draft of my book since May and day-to-day it often feels like I’m making snail’s-pace progress. But then I look back over the arc of months and marvel at how far I’ve come. As my manuscript deadline draws closer it feels like time is moving even faster—the opposite of what I want.
That deadline feels weighty to me because I’ve got another big one coming up: In a matter of weeks, AJ and I will become parents! We’re expecting a baby boy in February and are tremendously excited about all that that parenthood will bring. It’s a new adventure for us, and I can’t wait to see how motherhood influences my work and vice versa.
Like with the book, the closer we get to our due date the faster time seems to go. We’re doing what we can to slow it down so we can savor our final weeks as a family of two and tackle our growing baby-prep list (my home office is doubling as a storage locker for a mountain of onesies and baby gear).
Sometimes, having a baby while writing a book feels wildly incompatible, the collision of two incredibly hard things. At others, I’ve been surprised by how much they mirror each other. Both are acts of creation, of taking small component parts and turning them into a larger and more marvelous whole. Both are versions of the longest shortest time. Both are votes of hope for a better future. Both are incredibly exciting and profoundly challenging. I’ve never been more filled with excitement and joy, and never felt more overwhelmed.
As I’ve faced these twin challenges, I’ve found myself turning to various communities for support—family and friends, yes, but also colleagues. This summer, I joined The Writers Grotto, a San Francisco literary community that has been an incredible source of inspiration, advice, and camaraderie. As I mentioned in my previous newsletter, freelancing can be a cold, lonely business; the fellowship I’ve found at the Grotto has made it much less so. I’ve enjoyed getting to know other Bay Area writers by working from the Grotto’s office in the Misson District now and then, and attending readings and events. This fall, I even had the pleasure of reading an excerpt from my book manuscript at a climate-themed installment of the Grotto’s monthly Reading and Meeting series.
One of the beautiful things about community, beyond the support and encouragement, is that being part of one connects you to new people and new ideas. In that spirit, here are a few things that have come my way this past quarter, courtesy of my communities:
The short story “A Holdout in the Northern California Designated Wildcraft Zone” by T.K. Rex in Metamorphosis: Climate Fiction for a Better Future. T.K. read the first part of this story at the Reading and Meeting, and I was blown away its humor, its generosity, and the way it perfectly captures a Northern California forest. I loved it so much I bought Metamorphosis to see how it ended. (It didn’t disappoint!) The whole collection confronts the painful realities of climate change, but in a way that feels refreshingly hopeful, thoughtful, and empowering. Dare I say, it’s the perfect book for the start of a new year.
In October I made the hard decision to take a step back from DeSmog to focus on my book and baby. Although I’m no longer on the inside, I’ve continued to be buoyed by my former colleagues’ work. Their relentless drive to expose the forces that are delaying climate action feels more urgent than ever as we enter the second Trump presidency—see, for instance, this recent piece on the fracking billionaires and climate denial groups behind Trump’s cabinet picks or this preview of what’s coming in 2025.
I’m part of a book club—really, it’s just a few of my friends—that meets every other month. I enjoyed every one of the wide range of books we’ve read this year, so here they are, in chronological order: Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow; Happiness Falls; Fourth Wing; All the Light We Cannot See; The Anxious Generation; The God of the Woods. Our first book of 2025 will be Octavia Butler’s Parable of the Sower!
I hope this new year gives you a chance to slow down time and connect with your loved ones and communities. Please feel free to drop me a line and let me know how you’re doing and what’s on your mind.
Until next quarter,
Lindsey
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