5 things: uninspired or just tired?
current status: sleepy. plus: a fab coming of age thriller, the podcast ep i can't stop thinking about, pj&j energy bites, perfect summer shorts, and more.
happy weekend, friends!
is the sun shining where you are? here in new york, we’re staring down our first non-rainy weekend in months, and the vibes can only be described as feral. i hate sweating (except when i’m exercising), but there’s something about this time of year that i love. the way new yorkers come out of their winter shells and embrace the warmth, all bare legs and painted toes and slightly freckled shoulders. suddenly, everyone on the apps wants to go out (god give me the strength for the coffee date i have scheduled in a few hours), suddenly everyone wants to make plans, suddenly—despite the extra hours of sunlight mother nature gifts us—the days don’t feel long enough.
or maybe that’s just me? because if there’s one word that epitomizes my current state, it’s this: sleepy. i suppose it could be attributed to the fact that i’ve traveled nearly every weekend since early may, or the fact that—despite finally having some answers—i’m still dealing with some health issues, but man: i feel like i cannot catch my breath. that feeling has resulted in my skipping not one but two newsletters in the last month, something that makes me cringe as i type it. i hate not being able to deliver on something i’ve promised to deliver upon, but as i said: i can’t seem to find the hours in the day. earlier this week, i consulted my calendar. i had therapy on tuesday, my building’s house committee meeting on wednesday, a friend’s birthday on thursday (a day everyone else but me had off—don’t get me started), a long-awaited celebratory catch-up dinner on friday, a coffee date saturday morning, brunch on sunday.
add to that the fact that i wanted to get a fresh mani/pedi because my nails were disgusting, and that i like to work out at least once a day, and that i had (have) a long-running list of life-y things to do, including getting my living room AC installed, putting a new rug down in said living room, ordering a new shower rod, listing a few things on facebook marketplace, figuring out who will take care of the kittens next week while i go home to care for my mom post-knee surgery (the surgeries never end in my family!)…
now that i’ve typed it all out, i think: no wonder i’m tired.
on thursday night, i arrived late to the party.
the party in question being my friend maddie’s birthday. she’d invited people over starting at 5pm, but i didn’t make it ‘til nearly 7:45 (just a few minutes before we were scheduled to depart for our 8pm dinner reservation). that meant i had just a few minutes to say hello to folks i hadn’t seen in quite some time, including my friend alex, who offered a big hug, then asked me if i ‘lived in canada now.’
no, i said. i just traveled there twice in a handful of weeks for work, so it felt like that.
he asked how my job was going, if i was settling in. and then he asked what was going on with my novel. the last time we’d talked about it, i’d been revising it, prepping to get it ready to query. at this, my shoulders sank. because the truth of the matter is that i haven’t opened that word doc in months. in the spring, i spent a lovely afternoon walking around downtown kingston with
, an internet-turned-IRL friend who is a real, published author. she kindly offered to beta read my second book, as she’d done with the first (olivia, you are a gem!). i told her i just needed to fix a few things before i sent it, but that i would share soon.that was nearly 2.5 months ago.
on my long plane rides to and from vancouver, i told myself i’d work on my writing. but honestly? i boarded the plane, and i felt like my brain evaporated from my body. all i wanted was to veg. to read, and watch shitty netflix shows i’d downloaded to my ipad, and close my eyes.
i don’t know if it’s some strange strain of perfectionism that’s preventing me from opening the document, or from sending it to olivia—but i hate that i haven’t. especially because there’s this tiny part of my brain that keeps whispering that writing is my way out of corporate america, if i can just find the right story, and the right agent, and the right time.
while in vancouver last month, we had a handful of very good dinners.
most of the time, the director doesn’t join us for post-shoot meals, because a) they’re working their butts off and need the rest and b) who wants to hang with a slew of clients (in this case, both us as the agency folk + the actual clients = clients) after a long day on set? but one night, he did, and i found myself sitting across from him, talking about the books we’d been reading and the shows we’d been watching. he asked me how long i’d been with the company, and was surprised to hear i’d been there just 5ish months.
i explained that i’d left my prior job in feb 2023, and spent a year soul-searching, for lack of a better term. i told him i’d gone to mexico for a month, worked on a novel i’d started writing, freelanced.
wait, he said. you wrote a novel?
it hasn’t been published, but yeah. i queried it, got a few requests for a full manuscript that i never heard back on, and…
i told him i’d put that one on the back burner on the advice of a kind agent who had passed but agreed to let me treat her to coffee—and that i’d also started a second book.
wow, he said. he wanted to know what they were about.
the first is about a friendship breakup, i said. about how it impacts each member of the group, how the separation ripples into their adult lives.
and the second is about a secret, government-sanctioned island where bad men are sent to have their memories rewritten before they’re released back into society.
at this, his eyes widened. our producer, who was sitting next to me, stopped mid-bite.
holy shit, they said. now THAT is an idea.
(little did said producer know, he inspired the lead character)
after 10 minutes spent talking about all the film parallels they saw to the story (many of which went over my non-film buff head), the director offered to send the book to his agent.
i balked, because…what?!? what if it sucked?!
i’m sure it’s good, he said. send it to me.
on our final day on set, i worked up the courage to ask him for his personal email. we decided i’d send him a short snippet of the book; that if he liked it, he’d ask for the full, and send it along to his agent. on my flight home from vancouver, i copied and pasted the first few chapters into a fresh word doc, and pressed send. he replied 12ish hours later, saying he was excited to read, and that he’d be in touch.
i haven’t heard a word since.
i think deep down i knew that would happen. that a connection like that was too good to be true.
but man did i have that little spark of hope that this was it. that he’d read the snippet, and be able to see the idea for what it was, even if the writing wasn’t there yet, or the story was imperfect. that he’d write back and say, sarah, i can see it! send me the rest! instead, my inbox has remained decidedly silent.
last summer, when i officially put book one on the back burner and dove into book two, i told myself my goal was to make it good enough that the agent who’d passed on book one wouldn’t be able to turn it down. and yet here i sit, spending my time writing my silly little newsletter instead of working on a new draft. here i sit, procrastinating on sending it to olivia, because i want it to be perfect and i’m certain that it’s not. here i sit, coming up with every possible reason not to do the thing that deep down i believe is the thing i was meant to do.
no one can make me write but myself. no one can help me prioritize my time, or shut off my work brain and turn on my purely creative one. no one, that is, but me.
two years ago, i sat down at my computer on august 1st, and opened a blank word doc. i was miserable at my job, desperate to quit and terrified to leave. i was floundering, and so i gave myself a project. my goal was to write 1000 words every day for the month of august. if i stuck to it, i’d end the summer with 30,000 words—or about 1/3 of a traditional novel. each morning, i set my alarm for 7am, and before i did anything—before i read my emails, or opened instagram, or looked at the news—i wrote. by september, i had nearly 40k. a few months later, i had a full first draft.
when i left my job last year, i set myself a similar goal. again, i was floundering, again, i needed an outlet. something that reignited in me the desire to create. that reminded me that i loved what i did—writing—at the purest level. a few months after that, i had a full first draft of book two.
writing has never been the issue. i can write the shit out of a first draft, get the words on the page. but once i get them there, i falter. i struggle to edit my own work, to know what’s a good story and what isn’t, to know whether my characters are real, or paper doll people. when i get really, really quiet and i listen to my heart, i know: this is the thing—perhaps the only thing—that i am good at. i have wanted to write a novel since i was a little girl hiding in her library’s publishing center writing “book” after “book” and binding them together with brightly colored tape. it is the thing i believe i am meant to do; it may very well be the thing i never get to do, because the publishing industry is fickle and competitive, and based nearly entirely on sales potential (what industry isn’t, her cynical side asks).
and so here i sit, tapping away at my keyboard, pouring my heart out to strangers because even if i can’t get published, i can do this: be creative within the confines of a weekly email that gets sent to thousands of kind humans on the internet. i might be tired, and i might be uninspired, but that doesn’t mean i’ll be both of those things forever. or at least, i hope it doesn’t.
here’s to our creative pursuits. may we nurture them, and may we know that sometimes, that nurturing will look like rest.
friends: if you genuinely enjoy this newsletter, will you a) tap the little heart at the bottom and b) consider sharing it on your IG stories or forwarding along to a friend?
i continue to be so humbled and grateful that you’re here. that you read, and comment, and every so often, send me a thoughtful email or leave an encouraging comment. if you've not yet subscribed, might you consider doing so?
and now for this week’s recs!
{tw: if conversations about weight and disordered eating are difficult for you, you may want to scroll past this part}
did you catch this story on the cut a few weeks ago? about a 23-year old influencer named liv schmidt who had amassed a huge following on tiktok for her “what i eat in a day” content? i get nymag stories sent straight to me inbox, and i devoured (odd choice of words, sarah) this one. as someone whose early internet days coincided with the ‘pro-ana’ movement online, liv’s popularity on #skinnytok is eerily reminiscent of the era in which i came of age, and it is frightening. i’ve struggled with my weight (and my body image) since i hit puberty, and am constantly trying to intellectualize the societal framework that has made my body and mind what it is. in other words: i couldn’t hit play on this
episode fast enough. katie and caro spend over an hour dissecting not just liv’s content, but the media hullabaloo around it, breaking down not just what’s problematic about liv’s social media presence, but also, what isn’t.this is absolutely a story for another day, but as the popularity of glp-1s continues to grow, i find myself feeling more and more curious about what it might be like to try one—if only to see what it’s like to not think about every single bit i put into my mouth each day. my therapist and i have been talking a lot about this lately—the judgement i have against myself for even considering taking one, considering doing the “easy” thing (even though i have done the “hard” thing for over a decade and still have yet to see the results i’d like to see, even though my judgement somehow doesn’t extend to those i know who are taking it). listening to this episode, i was reminded of how, in some ways, all of it is a trap. dieting is a trap. counting calories is a trap. trying to eat more protein is a trap. at the very end, caro asks an extremely important question:
who is it all for?
the obsession with exercise. the obsession with trying to make our bodies look or feel a certain way. the obsession with “health”—and the ways in which we dress disordered eating up as “eating healthier.”
all of it is a mindfuck! ALL OF IT. i have no answers, i am myself stuck in the mire. but i found this episode helpful, and interesting, if only to remind me that i am not the only one who gets lost in these intellectual spirals.
ps: if you’re thinking, dear god sarah, do you ever consume anything light, the answer is yes! i also enjoyed this second life about the founder of sugared + bronzed, this fabulous interview with kate hudson on awards chatter (the almost famous segment at the beginning is just chef’s kiss!), and this wirecutter episode on optimizing your ac (important given our upcoming heat wave!).
friends! i read SO MANY BOOKS over the last few weeks! the beauty of cabin life/air travel, i suppose. i’m about 30% into the new taylor jenkins reid novel, atmosphere, and am hoping i get some good reading time in this weekend, but in the meantime, let’s talk about this book, which i read in a little over 24 hours while in north carolina last weekend. what kind of paradise is a twisty, thriller-light coming of age story about a teenage girl who breaks free from her father’s forced isolation to discover that her entire life is a lie.
growing up in a cabin in montana in the mid-1990s, jane knows only the world her father has constructed for her. a woodstove that heats their home, a small vegetable garden that supplements the monthly trips her father takes into civilization, the 19th century philosophy books he schools her on in lieu of a traditional education. outside the four walls of their cabin, the internet is being born. but jane knows nothing of the world wide web; she’s barely every seen a television set. her father is elusive about their past, telling her only that her mother died in a horrific car accident; that they live here as a means of protection from an increasingly dangerous world. as a child, jane does not question the smallness of her life. but as she becomes a teenager, things start to unravel. she begins to push the boundaries, to ask to accompany her father on his occasional trips away from the cabin. when one such trip goes horribly wrong, jane realizes: her father is not who she thought he was. and neither is she.
as i said, i flew through this in approximately a day. it was the perfect thing to read whilst snuggled up in a cozy cabin chair, but i also think it would make for an excellent beach read.
ps: if you’re a big reader, follow me on goodreads! i try and rank/save every book i read (i read 80 in 2024!)
it’s summer, and two of my favorite shows are back! first up is apple tv’s the buccaneers, which had its season two premiere last week, alongside a very special guest: leighton meester! i’m so thrilled to see leighton back onscreen, and love that she’s been cast as nan’s birth mother (nan, who is played by the talented kristine froseth, is the star, and my favorite character on the show). season one of the the buccanners focused on a group of young, wild american girls who exploded on the scene of buttoned-up 1870s london. as season two opens, the girls are no longer the newcomers. they’re running the place. nan is the newly married duchess of tintagel—the most influential young woman in the country (and she’s in love with her husband’s best friend!). her best friend conchita (my second fav character, girl’s got smarts and sass!) is lady brightlingsea, a wealthy new yorker who married the love of her life only to find out his parents believe her wealth will save them. and nan’s sister, jinny, is on the front page of every paper in the country, wanted for the kidnapping of her unborn child (at the end of season one, nan helped jinny escape her abusive husband; nan’s true love is the one currently hiding jinny).
did you catch all that?! in short: there is a lot going on on the buccaneers. and i love every minute of it. the show manages to be both a period drama and a thoroughly modern piece. the times are different, but nothing every really changes. i never watched bridgerton, but i have a feeling if you liked that, you’ll love this. period dramas are generally not my thing, but this one definitely is. also: THE CLOTHES. you could watch this show for the wardrobe alone!
ps: i also watched the first episode of the alex cooper hulu doc, call her alex, last night. i have mixed feelings. thought i’m not a big call her daddy fan, and alex’s humor is a little too raunchy for my taste, i can’t deny that she’s intelligent and an incredibly strong businesswoman. that said, i didn’t feel like the doc (at least the first part of it) painted her in all that great of a light? it follows alex in the weeks leading up to the first show of her unwell tour, and specifically, spotlights an interaction she has with the producer running her boston show in which she comes off as rather self-absorbed. i’m curious: have you watched it? did you get the same vibe?
psst! if you like this post, it would mean the world to me if you’d hit the little heart icon, as well as consider sharing it on IG stories or substack notes—so that big feelings can be seen by more people ❤️
remember how i said above that i thought protein was kind of a trap? i may think that, but also, i know for a fact that i don’t eat enough protein. i rarely cook meat at home, and while i eat plenty of veggie protein sources, i know it’s likely not enough. i never really got into the cottage cheese craze, and there’s only so much tofu a gal can eat in a week, so i’m always looking for interesting ways to incorporate it into my diet. enter these protein pb&j energy bites from
, which she shared on her blog a few weeks ago. i made them one evening and then stuck them in the fridge, and have been eating two before i have my coffee in the mornings. to be honest, i can’t tell if they’re doing much in terms of energy (how does one know the protein is protein-ing?!), BUT they are delicious and i like being able to eat something small before i consume caffeine (or go on a morning run). i needed to add a bit more honey to get my balls to stick together; i think next time i make them, i might try maple syrup instead.
speaking of oat-related things: i also made a fresh batch of my go-to homemade granola this past week. in an effort to stop eating so much candy at night/snacking on random shit pre-dinner, i stocked up on greek yogurt and summer berries. with its crunch and sweetness, granola makes a yogurt + berries snack feel more dessert-y to me, which might be kind of a mind game, but a delicious one, at least.
i snagged these terry cloth shorts ahead of last weekend’s trip to north carolina after being warned that we’d want something comfy and easily washable for our tubing adventure down the river. yes, you read that right, me—the non-outdoorsy, non-adventurous type—went river tubing! i had been assured that our tubing time would be more of a ‘lazy river’ floating sitch, but thanks to some intense rains in the days leading up to our visit to lake lure, the broad river was (in some parts, at least) roaring! ok, maybe roaring is an exaggeration. suffice it to say we went faster than i had expected, or intended. as we blew up our tubes and headed down to the push off point, i panicked. i felt the same as i had years ago when my friends had convinced me to take a ski lesson on our annual new years weekend trip to hunter mountain. i got to the top of the bunny hill, having ridden the little ski escalator up, and froze.
i can’t do it, i said to the instructor. i can’t go down that!!
he shrugged.
there’s no other option. the only way is down.
such was the case once i got into the river. i watched as my braver friends, more used to ‘steering’ with their arms and legs, floated off ahead of me. as the first set of rapids approached, i blinked rapidly. nowhere to go but forward.
you’re a strong swimmer, i told myself. worst case, i fell out, and i swam to the side. i had my water shoes on, i could do this.
though i did float a little bit behind everyone else (and did get stuck in a whirlpool of sorts for a good minute or so that felt like an eternity), me and my terry shorts made it all the way home in one piece, no swimming required!
since returning to new york, i’ve worn the shorts nearly every day, and so i can vouch for their comfort, washability, and general summer perfection.
ps: if you haven’t yet purchased the perfect pants i mentioned in my last newsletter, now’s the time!
here are a few things i enjoyed on the internet this week:
how zohran wins. i voted for mamdani for mayor yesterday (early voting!) and felt more excited about my vote than i have in a long time. new yorkers, here’s how to find your poll site.
i absolutely do not need to spend $218 on a nightgown, but my god do i want to.
chatgpt is eroding our critical thinking skills. because fucking obviously!!!! (can you tell i am anti AI?!)
as a big fan of solo travel, i loved this essay from
about the art of going places alone.100 easy summer recipes for right now. i love you, nyt cooking!
❤️ and that, friends, is where i leave you. if you like this post, it would mean the world to me if you’d hit the little heart icon, as well as consider sharing it on stories—so that big feelings can be seen by more people ❤️
I think it's always helpful to take some time away from a manuscript! Also I always try to remind myself that there is other work to do that isn't necessarily writing/editing (reading, brainstorming, research, etc.).
It’s so interesting how you start your piece speaking to feeling stuck with your novel writing and end with the imagery of being stuck in a whirlpool. Perhaps this is your writing whirlpool and like the saying goes, the only way to do it is to do it. At least that’s what it called to mind for me! Keep going, you got this 💪🏽