What to do when you're stuck
IMPORTANT UPDATE inside
Hello my friend,
An important programming note before we dive into today’s letter: this will be the last free edition of this newsletter.
From here on out, the Creative Input and Creative Output sections will be nestled behind a paywall. The essays will remain free, an open field for all to roam.
This change reflects a belief I hold dearly: writers and artists deserve to be paid for their work.
When compensated, the effort I can invest in my craft creates a far richer newsletter and a more vibrant community. It also means I can create more genuinely helpful content for all of you, both paid and free subscribers.
Financial accessibility, however, is supremely important to me. So to honor that:
If you sign up by the end of tomorrow, you’ll receive 20% off the newsletter forever. Click here for 20% off a monthly or yearly subscription.
Additionally, for every five paid subscribers, I will sponsor a paid subscription. If you’re in financial need and would like a sponsorship, click here to add your name to the list—no questions asked.
Moreover, a portion of each month’s paid subscriptions will be redistributed to nonprofit organizations, starting with the Palestine Children’s Relief Fund for the month of July.
This is an experiment, a curious exploration of aligning my values with my actions. I’m so glad you’re here with me on this journey.
Now, let’s get to today’s letter!
What do you do when you are stuck?
When I cannot write, I go for a walk. Let the sun dapple my shoulders, the breeze play with my hair. Huff and puff, bitch and moan. Then send myself a voice note with a tiny idea.
When I cannot write, I take a shower. Turn the water to scalding and attempt to melt the skin straight off my back. Rub my eyes until I see bright shapes behind my eyelids. Trace my name in the steam on the mirror.
When I cannot write, I read. Fiction, the newspaper. Sometimes, embarrassingly, my old journal entries. What world did I inhabit this morning, when I was so sure of my ideas? What did I tell myself yesterday, in the optimistic cheer of the day’s first light?
When I cannot write, I give up. Put on a Youtube video and pick at my nails. Throw my arms up over my head. Cry a little. Yell oh my GOD at my own drama-making. Slam the laptop shut. Go for a walk to bitch and moan, then leave myself a voice note with one little idea.
*****
In the mornings I wake groggily, after a single file line of snooze alarms march past me for an hour.
The days are bleary with heat. Sitting inside, I feel trapped. Sunlight scorches through the curtains and I think about what summer promises us.
Loud laughter. Late evening swims. Ice cream melting down your arm. How could anyone get sick of something so miraculous?
And yet summer often gives me the sneaking suspicion that I am a loser.
Summer says, “you had to be there.”
And I demand, “where?”
*****
I want to crawl out of my own skin and run down the street. Swim in the river, devoid of a body. Drive away from it all fast enough that I finally leave my brain behind, too.
I want to be a watermelon rind, perspiring onto the concrete in a forgotten shady corner. Crawling with caterpillars and beetles, their sharp mouths already making quick work of my cool flesh as I rot into the earth.
For now, I will let the sun annihilate me.
Let it break me down, piece by piece.
The humidity rubs at my skin, my senses.
I throw my arms up over my head. I slam the screen door shut behind me. I bitch, I moan. Then I find cover under a maple tree and leave myself a voice note: just one tiny idea.
***The following are three pieces of creative input. Consider them inspiration to refill your creative cup. I encourage you to give your inner artist a sweet treat this week—even when you don’t think you deserve it, even when you’re hesitant to call yourself a creative person.
1. A favorite summer gesture of romance and protection
May you be loved. May you be protected. May you always have someone who can smear sunscreen on your back in the summer (romantically or otherwise).
***
2. Notes on “taste”
“Taste” is one of those words I’m often suspicious of. When wielded as vague condescension (“they have good taste” or, “she’s tasteless”), I’m usually ready to dismiss the idea from a conversation. Brie Wolfson’s essay made me think a little differently about that.
“Taste honors someone’s standards of quality, but also the distinctive way the world bounces off a person. It reflects what they know about how the world works, and also what they’re working with in their inner worlds. When we recognize true taste, we are recognizing that alchemic combination of skill and soul…”
***
3. saudade, saudade (live in Avinyó)
Is your heart a little achy breaky this week? Me too. Try this: MARO’s acoustic rendition of her song saudade, saudade, performed with a group of eight harmonizing women (and one baby?) in a cathedral in Portugal.
Saudade has no direct translation in English. It’s the haunting, wistful ache for something lost or never fully grasped, a tender longing.
***The following are three ideas for creative output. Consider them as prompts for creative living in action. Because you have every right to practice your craft, engage your innate human creativity, and have a fuckin’ good time doing it.
1. Make a soundscape symphony
This week, capture audio clips from your day-to-day life. Record the sounds of a summer night—crickets chirping, leaves rustling, distant laughter. Make a voice memo while you walk around the city at high noon—people talking, dogs barking, ice cream trucks playing their little tunes.
If you want to make a project out of it, later, use these recordings to create a sound collage or an audio journal, blending the symphony of your world with your thoughts and reflections.
***
2. Consider the full moon
The full moon this Sunday is in Capricorn—symbolizing a collective release. It brings awareness to hidden aspects of our lives, encouraging us to confront these areas, especially under the influence of Capricorn, which balances logic and emotion.
Here are some journal prompts for you to consider under the light of the full moon:
What patterns in your work and life are illuminated? How can you weave a more harmonious balance between your daily toil and your moments of rest?
When faced with the critical voice within, how can you transform this judgment into a constructive force? In what ways can you use this tension to fuel your creative growth and exploration?
Where do you see the seeds of success beginning to sprout? What small achievements can you celebrate, and how will you nurture them to full bloom?
As the full moon beckons you to release and transform, what old narratives or limiting beliefs are ready to be shed? What new stories will you write in their place, woven with threads of resilience and hope?
***
3. Carve soap
There is something magic about sculpting out of soft soap. Choose a bar with a pleasing shape and texture, then grab a small knife or carving tool. As you carve, let your hands guide you—there’s no need for a plan or design. Maybe you’ll create a tiny animal, a delicate flower, or an abstract form that’s all your own.
Set up your carving station somewhere calming, perhaps in your garden or by a sunny window. As you shave away the layers, notice how the soap's scent fills the air, and let the rhythmic motions quiet your mind. When you're finished, you'll have a little piece of art to admire (and maybe even use) and the satisfaction of having created something beautiful from the simplest of materials.
That’s all for now, friend.
Talk soon,
Katie
P.S. Scroll straight to the bottom? Don’t miss the announcement—this is the last totally free edition of this newsletter!
If you sign up by the end of tomorrow, you’ll receive 20% off the newsletter forever. Click here for 20% off a monthly or yearly subscription.
Additionally, for every five paid subscribers, I will sponsor a paid subscription. If you’re in financial need and would like a sponsorship, click here to add your name to the list—no questions asked.