I swore I would write this newsletter once a week.
It was easy enough to do from my apartment in London. Quarantined into a routine, I could feign a disciplined writing practice, waking up early and banging out words that would become sentences, sentences that would become articles and, maybe, if I was lucky, the hopeful beginnings of book chapters. I created to-do lists around the chapters, meticulous notes that would guide the sentences into paragraphs, the paragraphs into sections, the sections into book chapters. I wrote and rewrote, perhaps overwriting and definitely overthinking every single thought.
A ZOOM here, a WhatsApp call there. That was the only outside inspiration that was there for the past year and a half (and then some) as we crept into our shells and avoided the outside world. It became overwhelming to think about interacting with other humans, as every in-person interaction turned into an exercise in risk analysis and we relegated every social interaction to a conference call. No one likes conference calls.
But when I finally got the shot in my arm that opened up the world, it felt like something shifted. Suddenly there were possibilities—parties, in-person interviews and chance encounters, spontaneity, creativity and inspiration. As a writer, I could meet someone and take note of their energy and mannerisms, letting an interview become a conversation that became a connection that lead to so much more.
It made me realize what a cheap replica ZOOM had been this whole time.
I booked a one-way trip to New York City, a springboard of sorts to other cities, where I knew I wanted to interview people for my book. I became a reporter on the road again, shamelessly querying anyone I knew for stories and interviews, not knowing where it would lead me. Where I once fretted over sending messages, not knowing how they would be received, I found myself reaching out to people with abandon, taking every positive response as a connection that might be meant to be. After a year (and a half) of playing it safe for the sake of our world and my community around me, I wanted to get out of my comfort zone, speak languages I’d never spoken, reach out knowing I might be rejected and feel the rush of the unexpected.
So, as I ground myself in the beautiful chaos of being a reporter on the road, forgive me while I get my ducks in a row. I’m overstimulated and following ledes, coloring outside of the lines, and hope that you are too, in your own way. Once I organize myself, and these images become stories and pieces that make more sense, I’ll write in a way that more resembles the newsletter that you signed up for—but for now, I’m sharing this piece of me because I know from experience that it isn’t always easy to reacclimatize and readjust, to squint your eyes and take in the light when there has been so much darkness.
But when you do, it is truly beautiful.
No worries at all Anna, keep up the good work!