It’s last month of 2025! Starting this month (NOT in January, just as a reminder that you can always start new things in any month, day, or moment you like), we’re rebooting our Friday Fire series, prompts designed to keep you on fire (or on a slow burn) as a writer, and on Mondays, insights and observations with the very on-the-nose-name of Monday Motivation to uplift you as the person, artist, writer and creator you are. Gina kicked us off with our first Monday Motivation.

Let me be clear: these Monday questions and suggestions are not dictums designed to make you feel badly, add to your to-do list, or contribute to the world of weaponized wellness, where every app or ritual promises to change your life and add a few zeros to your bank account. I am a Monday person, but I am not a motivational speaker, which I think has been replaced by TikTok celebs telling us how to live, how to feel, and most importantly, what to buy and how to monetize every skill you’ve ever had in the endless gig economy. As an artist, however, you are not on sale. So, when I say uplift, I mean interrogate the person behind the computer or on the other side of the blank page. Sometimes these will be a series of questions designed for you to ponder or sit with, sometimes they will be profiles of some of Circe’s writers, and sometimes it will be a mix of the two.

Today, it’s a question that kept popping up for me at my 50^th birthday party, where many of my favorite people in my life gave speeches about how much they loved me. I love a compliment and am literally the easiest person to shop for on the planet because I like nearly everything except math, and I felt myself resist taking it in. I felt embarrassed to be celebrated, while simultaneously understanding that I would remember that moment for the rest of my life. (We were also all wearing wigs, and my parents were dressed as Sony and Cher and sang “We Had You, Babe,” so that added to the unforgettable factor). I was surprised to find that I had trouble receiving praise, attention, public expressions of love. I wanted to hear what people said, but I also felt squeamish and uncomfortable. Upon reflection I realized I felt conflicted because I was worried. What if this was the last time I ever felt so loved? What if no amount of love would ever be enough? What if I didn’t deserve it? A good writing day – aka the best feeling in the world – is often sandwiched between weeks, months, even years of frustrating ones. But the joy from a good writing day is lost if the first thought you have is, what if it’s my last one? And what we’re looking for in terms of creative practice is JOY, first and foremost, no matter how challenging the subject matter.

The endlessly discussed and debated concept of “the muse” is interesting in the context of a reluctance to receive. If you are resistant to receiving, if the long-awaited muse arrives, how will you know? Here are some questions for you to consider: What do you resist receiving? Do you know why or is it still a mystery? Sit with that. Happy Monday.

-Emily