An Invitation

And a teeny tiny pep talk

The poster for my play! Which you can come see!

Friend,

An uncustomary message from me this week. This week, I’m extending an invitation.

I WROTE A PLAY! It’s a solo show called What I Know, Now that I also perform and you can come see it this summer from July 15-20th at The Bay Street Theatre in Sag Harbor. The piece started as a weird little essay that I couldn’t quite figure out. Over the past two years with a lot of diligent work, the help of some wonderful institutional support, and an amazing collaborator, it’s become a play! Since it started as an essay, if you enjoy the work you’re reading here on Substack I hope you’ll come. It’s a dive into faith, legacy, family, and how we learn to carry our scary unknown future with an open hand.

If you’d like to read more about it, you can do so here. The article is from a new works festival in Sag Harbor at Bay Street last year (not to be confused with this year’s limited run), but it is a lovely conversation I had that speaks well of the play still.

Tickets can be purchased here

We’ve been in rehearsals these past two weeks and I’m so proud of what we’re creating.

It must really be happening, because there are binders

In the meantime, I want you to know I haven’t forgotten you and the journey we are on together.

I’ve been working on a piece about the year anniversary of my dad’s passing which occurred at the end of May (and wow has it been difficult to write) and prepping a guest series to launch called Note To Self (which I’m over the moon excited about and which was supposed to launch this week but….didn’t. Le sigh). I signed with an amazing literary agent who I feel more lucky to have with each passing day, my daughter had her piano recital, my youngest child just finished his first year of school, and all manner of other things are making me feel a little like I’ve been riding the teacups at the county fair.

It’s not an entirely unpleasant situation I find myself in, sometimes it’s really quite pleasurable; remarkable even…and yet, every time that cup spins at double speed (even if I’m usually the one cranking the wheel at the center)I think I might throw up.

Teacups at a county fair somewhere

Whatever is going on in your world, if this note finds you spinning, perhaps take comfort in knowing you’re not the only one. Remember to breathe all the way down to your toes and when the world goes all whirly try to notice how the trees blend with the sky to make a color you’ve never seen before. Remember that no ride, however colorful, remarkable, or destabilizing goes on forever. Nothing does.

Also, I call green.

Jx