Fall really is the best time of year
I mean, you're welcome to your own opinion, but in this house, the arrival of fall is the ONLY redeeming feature of summer.
For the first time since late April, I walked outside of my house in Alabama and didn’t feel like I was walking into my dog’s mouth. It was glorious!! It made me pause, feeling like there might be an inkling of hope and faith left in humanity. If you’ve never lived in the Deep South, let me assure you that the heat is miserable and the humidity is stifling. The steam rising from the concrete while the air feels like you can swim through it makes me squirrely. We move slowly for a reason in the summer time. And since I moved back 8 years ago, not a summer goes by when I wonder, why do I even live here?
Now, the Indigo Girls will convince you that there’s something about the southland in the springtime … and they’re right. It’s absolutely gorgeous here — the foothills of the Appalachian mountains begin in this part of the country so everywhere you turn, it’s hills and valleys (and the occasional rocket). The springs and waterfalls run clean and the soil is open for business, ready to receive seedlings to turn into some of the best fruits and veggies you’ve ever put in your mouth.
But the summer? Those valleys become traps for humidity and heat — and there’s no escape unless you have a way to the beach or perhaps to the top of the mountains in eastern Tennessee/western Carolina. And more than once this summer, I’ve sold my soul to pay for the air conditioning that keeps me sane(ish) and comfortable. Chub rub, boob sweat, swamp ass — those things are steady around these parts in the summer, and because I trap myself next to the freon machines, I don’t go outside because it’s too much.
However, it’s the hint of fall that really makes me happy and offers a sense that everything will, somehow, be alright. The ‘maters are peak, as are the peaches. The late berries are sublime. And when the humidity breaks, as it did overnight, it’s an absolute treat. I’m counting down to football (Roll Tide!!), chili, baking, open windows, sitting by an outdoor fire, the crunch of leaves underfoot, and more.
But what I'm really excited about is that our fall/winter calendar is now OPEN for new business!!! (If you’re reading this newsletter on Sunday, 14 August, you and anyone you recommend get first dibs — and these spots fill quickly.)
When I put out my little shingle, I never expected that it would lead me to so many wonderful people whose writing is fresh, energizing, and luscious. There are some folks I work with who could write the phone book (does that reference resonate anymore??) and I would read it because it would be poetic, rich, and deeply researched. But here we are — and here I am, living my little dream of editing some of the latest scholarship, memoirs, and upmarket fiction; helping folks put together proposals for agents; and supporting my clients as best I absolutely can! Perfect? No. Dedicated? Absolutely.
One way I am seeking to support clients is to move their work from draft to publication, as Anastasia C. Curwood and I did for her forthcoming biography of Shirley Chisholm.
If you want to book Professor Curwood for your spring events, please complete this form and I will be back with you within 72 hours.
I’ve been on about this book since I read the first draft because it is that good!!! The footnotes alone are a work of art, but the lucid and alluring writing and the framework of understanding Chisholm as a champion of Black feminist power politics are just stunning. This book deserves a home on your bookshelf! And trust me: you WANT to hear Anastasia speak about Ms. Chisholm’s life and legacy.
So if you’re looking for editorial support, let’s talk! I offer payment plans, no questions asked; I don’t upcharge if English isn’t your first language. I also work with universities as a vendor, and that’s quite easy to do. But the goal is for YOU as a writer to have as much support and care as possible. It’s what we aim to do for everyone, so come join the party!
With a heavy heart, I want to honor and acknowledge Professor Terrance Dean, whose death at the age of 53 has shaken and pained our shared colleagues and friends. Terrance was a client, working on two projects (if you knew Terrance, you already know how gifted he was with words and ideas). He and I shared several laughs and many hours communicating through and about language. He told me once that he appreciated very much my “Virgo energy” and that will stick with me for a long time. Rest well, good man.
For the living: check on your friends, your loved ones, your “we haven’t chatted in AGES” people. I know we all get busy, but we can’t get so busy that we don’t have a moment to dash off an email, send a text message, or pick up the phone.
If I can find a way to start a scholarship fund in his name for people who seek editorial support but lack the money to do so, I will keep everyone posted.
For now, Rest In Peace, Professor and Dr. Terrance Dean.