Hello friends! And welcome to final act…

Ever have one of those curiously circular thoughts like *wow, the more I write, the more I find myself writing,* then spend the next ten to twenty minutes calling yourself a dummy while simultaneously trying to convince yourself (or your favorite imaginary talk show host) why it actually kinda makes sense?

Yeah, same. Frequently, tbh…

What? I walk a lot. That’s a lotta time for my silly little brain to do all it’s silly little brain things, m’kay?

But that one, the *writing begets more writing* thought, really, truly does make sense. The more you practice the art of writing, the more you read like a writer, think like a writer, see like a writer. Random people on the street transform into potential characters, a friend’s chance run-in with a stranger might make for a rather cheeky Meet Cute, and that peculiar division between clouds up above could very well be a portal to another dimension...

That, I decided, while on my way to my favorite cafe the other day, was what I wanted this month’s newsletter to be about—the positive feedback loop that is the creative process!

But…

Then…

I sat down.

✅ Laptop open.

✅ Condensation from my black-currant ice tea pooling on the table.

✅ Blank, white page glaring back at me.

The longer I sat there, the less I wanted to write about loops, creativity, magic systems, character development, literally anything having to do with writing.

Instead, I found myself (once again) wanting to write about time. The passage of it, and how it seems to section itself just so. Why I feel like I’m at a standstill and, at the same time, like I’m being pushed toward a starting line.

I can see that there’s more ahead, an ever-thinning path stretched out before me, riddled with dark, shadowy bits, odd obstacles, and Mario Cart boxes full of god knows what. I wait for the 💥pop💥 of the starting gun, then look down to see I’m the one holding the cold, black pistol.

Why now? Why September? What is it that’s got me gearing up for another race?

Then…😮💡🤦‍♀️…it hit me.

A few months ago (exactly four), I shared with you all that my brain naturally divvies the year into thirds: January to April, May to August, and September to December 👀. And, up until recently, I always sort of assumed it was just a season-based thing. The first third’s cold, stiff, and yet expectant, hopeful with the promise of Spring just around the corner. The second third’s colorful and warm, rich and rounded, but rather fleeting here in the Pacific Northwest. And the third third’s...well, she’s comprised of the -BER months, the cozy-up-and-cuddle, or read-a-good-book, or simply watch-the-rain-race-down-the-windows months that wrap you and another year in a velvety, black bow of finality.

But now, with my writing lenses on, I’ve come to realize there’s more to it than that. Sure, the seasons change, and sure, my mood shifts in time, but, why thirds when all my life the year’s been split into quarters or twelfths even?

ACTS!!!

Yep, seems my brain was in writer mode all along! Of course, I split the year into thirds. I split all my works into thirds, and what is life if not our greatest work?

Musing of the Month: The Final Act

Act I: In January of 2019 I decided to ✨write the book✨, to really go for it, and in doing so completely changed my life (wayyyy happier). So while January kicks off a new year for everyone, it sorta marks a personal metamorphosis for me that, while amazing and uplifting, also reminds me of everything I haven’t done yet. Where’s the published book? The accolades? How many years before “success”? I know, sounds a little Negative Nancy but, tbh, that kinda pressure works for me. Each new writing year (or year year) carries with it a billion opportunities. Which ones will come to fruition? Not sure yet. But better put my head down and get back to work.

Act II: In May, I’m another year older (seemingly overnight). Birthdays, they’re not a big deal anymore. They come, they go. No one really cares once you’re in your thirties. But any writer out there will tell you a ticking clock is a damn-effective plot device. Give your characters X days to solve the case or Y minutes to storm the prison OR ELSE THEY FAIL and they start to get panicky. Maybe do something risky? Something stupid? Or perhaps they get clever, start thinking outside the box. It’s its own sort of challenge, a birthday. Will you rise to the occasion? Be better than who you were last year? Or crumble under the pressure?

….Realizing now I probably need therapy………….

Anywho!

Act III: Yeah, it gets sad. But c’mon, you knew this was coming… Before we can really Break Into Act 3 we gotta get through that tricky All Is Lost/Dark Night of the Soul bit. I forewarned, babes, go back and check (see lame-o graphic).

In August of 2014, I lost my dad to brain cancer. It sucked then, and it sucks now. Differently. I’m older, I’m wiser (in theory), I’m less raw (most of the time), but every August there’s this ghost—who I used to be? who I might have been?—living parallel to Now Me, forcing me to wonder how things might have been if… I try to ignore her, or at the very least hush her, but I’m rarely successful. So, eventually, I sit with her, chat with her, cry with her until it’s time for her to go. Then stare down that last third, the last leg of this race, reach my hand up, and pull the trigger. Because a story without an ending, without resolution, and character growth, and change, isn’t really worth reading, is it?

Again, I probably need therapy.

Again, ​I relish the idea of having this final leg, this final opportunity to “start again.” Right when the world feels like it’s about to swallow me up, I’m given the chance to put on a new face and choose how to approach my final act.

Less than twenty-four hours ago (before this letter had anything close to a satisfying conclusion), my writer buddy Shannon said, “I think I’m in my fierce era,” before sharing her plans for her somewhat-forced, somewhat-chosen chaotic approach to the future. Right then, my gut went:

So, I invite you (yes, we’re about to get cheesy with it) to decide how you’d like your final act of this year’s story to go (or if you are in a different act (I, II, X…👀…yo, I don’t know you) how you’d like to tackle said act).

Are you in your fierce/chaos era? Your rest era? Your detangle era? Your shift-the-narrative era?

Think about it. Play with it. Maybe you’re on the brink of something great/something new/something entirely unexpected. How exciting.

The Weather (stuff…at a glance):

📃Current WIP(s):🧬Project EG - stabby, sapphic sci-fi/dystopian; 🪷Project SATC - chem-punk, portal sci-fi/fantasy.

📈WIP status(es): Sent Draft 4 of 🧬Project EG to betas/Agent Des, now waiting for feedback! 🪷Project SATC... on sub... still... In short, I’ve lost hope in this project and am hoping to shift my focus to 🧬Project EG.

📚Current read(s): 🔥The Poppy War by R.F. Kuang.

✨ Other: I got another tattoo chunk inked TODAY 😈🖤!!

Rain’s Random Recs:

📘: 🩷 The Love of My Afterlife by Kristy Greenwood — Okay, so if you know me at all you know I don’t really read romance, like…ever. BUT, I asked a friend for a book rec with afterlife/ghosty/magical realism vibes for comp purposes, and this is what I got. Now, while this is NOT at all the vibe I was going for, it was a really cute, really sweet pallet cleanser. (Pssst, if you have any good Like Water For Chocolate-esque book recs, please send them my way (‘cause that’s what I was going for when I asked my friend lol.))

🎥: 🦌Hunt for the Wilderpeople starring Sam Neill and Julian Dennison — An oldie but a goodie (bc the new films I saw this month were meh). I LOVE this movie. Definitely in my top 5!

🎵: 🌌 New album alert! Nova Twins just dropped a new album! GO LISTEN. Then do your due diligence and listen to everything they’ve ever put out. Lmk your faves ;)

Alright, that’s it from me today. Have a fan-freaking-tastic third act! Thank you for reading! Big hugs! Questions/feedback/thoughts/requests always welcome!

XOXO,

Rain ☔ she/her