The Em Dash
A New Year, a New Beginning
Welcome to my newsletter, The Em Dash. I hesitate to call it a newsletter, because my intention is that this decidedly NOT be about news in the way news played a role in my life up until about nine months ago, but in the new way it plays a role—which is more about what is interesting to me and not necessarily front page material in the lives of the demanding hard-nosed word of newsprint readers. Depending on who is doing the calculation, this is the dawning of the Age of Aquarius and I am here for it.
I called this space The Em Dash, because of the tiny thrill I get when I use the em dash—the elongated hyphen that emphasizes a point in a sentence by setting it apart. I was NOT taught this tool in Catholic school and do not believe the nuns would have been down with its untidy use. The Em Dash is a bit of a rebel. Emily Dickinson totally got that.
Credit: Peter Arkle
If the ‘10s were a time of mass distribution and promotion (a time during which I went from great hope in social media to great dread), I hope the ‘20s will be a time of deeper connection and thoughtfulness. Whether the masses agree to this evolution or jump off the cliff into the Orwellian abyss of mass communication, I commit to shifting my own connection to one that is smaller in scale and in-person as often as possible. I’ll still be on the socials, but perhaps in a new way.
I’ll include some random writing, updates about what I am working on and things I like, and I will aim to write at least once or twice a month. With that said, thank you for joining me here. Please let me know what you think and what you would like to hear about from me. I’m all ears.
Things I’m Thinking About:
“I don't want to like it because I don't feel like I am growing or going toward what I thought I was going toward."
I wrote this note to myself in 2009 while working at the non-profit where I’d returned after my stint in full time journalism went belly up with the recession. It was a great job, but I hated the fact that I wasn’t working as a journalist and thought there was something embarrassing or lesser about working my own blog and using social media to connect with my readers. I remember literally blushing when I told someone about how I was meeting Washington Heights and Inwood residents on Twitter. They didn’t get it and their not getting it made me feel like there was something wrong with me. What I didn’t know at that time was that the work I was doing would lead to being asked to join a new local news start up and my entire life would change.
I remember writing this note. I was raging on the subway when coming home from a class at the Open Center where I was studying with Julia Cameron. I regularly did her advised 3-pages of long hand morning pages each morning, but still found words pouring out of me well into the night.
I now understand that I was indeed growing, and that the thing keeping me sane, while pushing me forward, was this need to keep writing. It’s what pushed me to write those pages each day. It’s what pushed me to create my own uptown blog, finding opportunities to include poetry and prose alongside the reporting. It’s what brought me to the attention of DNAinfo, and the velocity of the years that have followed.
That same drive is what keeps me motivated to write today, whether this newsletter, the memoir I am writing, the bits and bobs of thoughts I post on Instagram, and in my journal.
And here’s the glorious thing: That motivation is no longer the old slave driving, punishing voice that used to tell me I had to do-do-do in order to be loved and respected, the one that believed being of service was a way to prove my worth. I’m not saying I still don't find myself checking how many hearts my Instagram post got or angling for attention—I am a Leo after all—but I don’t seem to be running on those same fumes. The thing that drives me to do more is the desire to live more—to finally sign up for that design thinking and creative leadership course, to say yes when invited to teach audience strategy at Universidad Villanueva in Madrid this winter, to buy that ticket to Paris for me and Ben (because IT HAS BEEN TOO LONG), and to commit to finishing my book proposal by February. I’m still doing a lot, but my relationship to that busyness has changed.
Ten years is a long time and I am grateful to be on this side of the decade. Are you? What did you learn in the ‘10s? And what would you like to usher into the Roaring ‘20s? Please respond to this email and let me know.
Things I’m Reading:
An article on homelessness and sleeping on the subway written in 1953 in Harper’s, but could be written today.
Did you know art theft is the third most profitable criminal enterprise, following drug trafficking and arms dealing?
A reminder that the pursuit of happiness doesn’t have to be like a high speed car chase, it can come in the simplest moments—even on the A Train.
I just read Deborah Levy’s “Things I Don't Want to Know: On Writing” while recuperating from TED Women at this tiny hotel in Palm Springs. I read it with pruney fingers in a hot tub in the rain and would go back to that moment of bliss at any time.
Things I Have My Eye On:
A fanny pack. Made in small batches in Richmond, Virginia. Because the time has come for a hands-free life.
This Calamityware sea monster shower curtain so I can pretend to be a deep sea explorer each time I visit the bathroom.
And these Jennifer Behr papillon earrings, which I imagine wearing to the office on random Tuesdays to brighten the darkness of the coming February blues.
What I Wish For You:
A happy holiday. A thrilling new year. Peace and calm and a sparkle during all of your wintery (o veraniega si estás leyendo esto desde Buenos Aires, mi familia) nights.
With love,
~C