"Yours are the only emails I actually open and read" - a regular reply in my inbox since 2009...and I'll bet in yours, too, once you subscribe and learn by pure, lazy osmosis to become the most compelling writer around. That said, no promises on improving your moral character.
Whenever, dude
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Hey — do you know what time it is right now? I don’t. For July, I’m literally off the clock. Not available for anything scheduled. No group calls, no podcast interviews, no “virtual coffee chats,” no nothing that requires me to be conscious of hours or minutes. It’s kind of like an elimination diet, except instead of cutting dairy, gluten, or sugar — all of which I’ve cranked up because I’m in my morning croissant era — I’ve removed time. You could call it allergy testing. I already know I react. Appointments make my brain swell with histamines and delete all memory of Zooms until I’m 7 minutes late. It’s not for nothing that I wrote a chapter of Tough Titties called “Sorry I’m Late” and nearly named the whole book Running a Few Behind. I set two alarms for every Zoom: one for prep (depends on the hair) and one a minute before. Just telling you that makes me anxious. I hate alarms. I don’t even like setting timers for Steven when he’s cooking. I startle when one goes off — even if it’s just for rice. The trauma runs deep. I still flinch at “Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)” because it was my clock radio alarm in 7th grade. So, for thirty days, which I’ve already expanded to 35 days because I’m enjoying it so much, nothing goes on the schedule unless it’s dinner. What will my days look like? WHATEVER I F’ING WANT. Nothing on the calendar except beautiful blank space. In the morning, I’ll get up whenever I please. I always do, but now it’s without thinking, “I wonder what time my first thing is.” No pressure to “start my morning,” other than the summer heat. If I wait too long to take my walk, it’s an inferno out there. And no need to “get my email done before that podcast interview.” I’ll read outside on the patio, facing the garden.
I have a whole bunch of books queued up.* While outside, I’ll also watch reruns of HBO’s The Comeback, which is actually coming back (yay!) and episodes of Bravo’s The Valley. Side note: I must be emotional. I actually cried at Kristen Doute’s engagement. I’ll let Steven fix me lunch. We’re on a kick of this sick homemade mozzarella on toasted olive bread brushed with garlic and olive oil. When tomato season hits, we’ll pivot to BLTs. I’ll still do some work. I’ll still write in 750 words, my version of “morning pages.” But maybe I’ll do my morning pages in the afternoon! I’ll still write you these emails, as long as I feel like it. But if someone says, “Wanna go to the beach this afternoon?” I don’t have to say, “How about tomorrow?” or “OK, as long as I’m back by 3, because I have a thing.” I don’t have a thing. All that’s on the schedule is “being Laura.” And I’m so excited about it. OK, (non-) time for lunch! TTYL. xoLaura PS - You ever done this without being away? Blocked out a month, or even a week, for “being Reader?” Are you tempted to? Write back and tell me! PPS - *Yesterday I finished my friend Annabel Monaghan’s latest, It’s a Love Story, and the title describes how I feel about her writing. I’ve told her, I’d actually use her books to teach writing, because they’re romcoms that somehow avoid a single cliche. Will report back on what else is good. PPPS - One reason I’m so chill? I’ve already pre-filled Shrimp Club, my live mentoring party AKA mastermind, to 70% There are only 6 spots left! Click here to let me know if you’re interested in grabbing one when I open applications in August.
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Thank you for reading and sharing, |
Laura Belgray (Talking Shrimp)
"Yours are the only emails I actually open and read" - a regular reply in my inbox since 2009...and I'll bet in yours, too, once you subscribe and learn by pure, lazy osmosis to become the most compelling writer around. That said, no promises on improving your moral character.
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