Sometimes you gotta pop out and apologize to people
My mea culpa, a eulogy for Fudgie, the last writer I had dinner with, prizes and workshops to apply for, and more
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GIRL, I WAS TALKING SHIT ABOUT YOU ONLINE
The publishing world is small. The community of Black writers within it, even smaller. Which is one of many good reasons to treat fellow writers and others in the publishing ecosystem with respect and kindness, or at the very least—keep their names out of your mouth. People talk. Word of rudeness, backstabbing, and other bad behavior gets around. And the bitch of it is, you may never know that what you did or said is making the rounds.
You may never know that your reputation is costing you opportunities and invitations. Before I engage with a writer I don’t know, I ask my writer besties if they know the person, and what kind of interactions they’ve had with them, if any. This has saved me time, energy, heartache. This has protected me, personally and professionally. And I do the same for others. Because we all we got.
Social media, especially Twitter in its heyday, makes it easy to get caught up and caught out there. Easy to be snarky and bitchy, to pile on and talk shit. That was certainly me at times, especially during my OG Black Twitter era circa 2009-2014.
Once during this time period, folks were tweeting shit about a Black woman writer I knew of, but didn’t know personally. This writer was friends with a high profile person who was being dragged for various reasons. So some of us decided to drag this writer; we considered her guilty by association. Childish and silly, I know. To my knowledge, the writer never responded publicly to the controversy or our tweets, so it was a one-sided dust up.
Fast forward nearly a decade later…This writer and I are both invited to a literary event that spans multiple days. As soon as I saw her name in the line up in the invitation I received, I felt a pang of guilt. I recalled my past bitchy tweets about her, and I recognized them for what they were: unfair. This writer had not defended her controversial friend publicly, as far as I knew. And I had no idea if or how she’d addressed the issues privately with her friend. I didn’t know much of anything. But I didn’t let that stop me from tweeting unkindly about this writer. And now I was going to be meeting her for the first time and sharing professional space with her. Even if she didn’t know about the tweets, I did, and my conscience was beating my ass about them.
Day One of the event, and I see this writer walking toward me. As she gets closer, she breaks into a huge, beautiful smile and calls my name.
Fuck.
We then proceed to hang out, bond, and talk about everything under the sun for the next two hours. There are others around us, but we are deep in conversation with each other. About 45 minutes into it, I decide to ‘fess up. “Listen,” I say, “I’m getting the feeling that we’re going to become friends. And if that’s the case, there’s something you should know…” And I tell her how I’d taken part in talking shit about her on Twitter years ago when her high-profile friend was being dragged.
As I spoke, the writer’s smile never wavered. When I was done, she laughed. “Let me tell you how that went down behind the scenes,” she began.
“No,” I said. “You don’t owe me an explanation. You don’t owe me anything. I owe you an apology, and I’m sorry.”
Some people find it hard to apologize, to admit fault. I didn’t struggle with that. I struggled with the feelings of guilt and shame that came with apologizing and admitting what I had done. The fact that it happened in a virtual space didn’t make my behavior any less inappropriate. In the grand scheme of things, I hadn’t harmed anyone; the writer hadn’t even seen my tweets. Nevertheless, I was ashamed to have acted the way I did. It was all so unnecessary, as most1 online pettiness is.
The writer accepted my apology and still told me the behind the scenes situation. And then I sighed the biggest sigh of relief. Not only had I been able to make amends for something crappy I’d done, I’d made a new friend.
HOW TO MAKE LOVE TO A PHYSICIST IS IN A NORTON ANTHOLOGY!
Remember the Norton anthology? Those gazillion-page books with tissue-thin pages that some of us read from in high school and college English classes? The anthology is part of a series of anthologies filled with literature that is considered canon. The most well-known of these anthologies is The Norton Anthology of American Literature. There’s also The Norton Introduction to Literature, which was first published in 1973. The fifteenth edition, out last month, includes my short story, “How to Make Love to a Physicist,” as well as a biographical note about me, an excerpt from my PEN Ten interview with Jared Jackson, and AND a series of writing prompts inspired by my story, including one that puts “…Physicist” in conversation with “Girl” by Jamaica Kincaid, which—full circle moment—was the first story we studied in my very first writing class, at the Pittsburgh Center for the Arts in 1998!
HAPPY PUB DAY!
Congratulations to the fabulous
on the release of her beautiful children’s book, Oshún and Me: A Story of Love and Hair, “a heartwarming ode to family, identity, and the beauty of braided hair”!
The Spanish language version of the book, Ochún Y Yo: Una Historia de Amor Y Trenzas, is translated by my bestie, my heart,
, AND she narrates the Spanish version of the audiobook!LISTEN UP!
This week on Ursa Short Fiction, talk with Destiny O. Birdsong, author of the poetry collection Negotiations and the novel Nobody’s Magic. Last year, Destiny published a short story, “The Jump,” only to have it pulled from publication less than a day later over disagreements with the editors.
The story eventually found a new home at Roxane Gay’s newsletter, The Audacity.
Destiny talks about navigating censorship and what happens when writers and editors don’t see eye to eye, and they highlight the necessity of respect and support from editors and keeping the integrity of your work when finding a home for it. She also talks about the intersections of religion and queerness, the representation of queer sex and sex work in literature, and how she follows instinct when approaching her work.
Check out this most excellent conversation between
Ep. 352 A New Era of Self with J Wortham — The Stacks | Traci Thomas
And many thanks to Traci for compiling this list of ways to help those impacted by the fires in LA.
I’M-A READ, I’M-A READ, I’M-A READ…
“When we say that these people are American bullies, this is what we mean: their hatred and desires are old and familiar, they despise the sheer existence of people who are not white or Christian or straight or male, their grief has turned them to monsters, and when given the choice to be better, they have chosen to be terrible…”
My cousin
recently launched his newsletter, The American Thread, and as always, he’s bringing the heat and the light. Danté’s pen is anointed. Go get your blessing, friend.‘A House is Not a Home.’
The new Luther Vandross documentary brought to mind an essay in my friend Brian Broome’s Kirkus Prize-winning memoir Punch Me Up to the Gods. On his book playlist at
’s Large Hearted Boy, Brian writes:“Luther Vandross is the first Black gay man I ever saw that I knew was gay. No one announced it. He was in the closet for his whole life, after all. But I just knew. I devoted a whole chapter in the book to this experience and could think of nothing else to call the chapter other than ‘A House is Not a Home.’ My mother had a serious crush on Luther Vandross and I realize now as an adult, I did too. She let me stay up late one night to watch his first appearance on Saturday Night Live. I learned a lot that night. About my mother* and me. Luther Vandross’ voice is unique in its brilliance. Playful, generous and rich. He changed my life that night. His voice started me on a journey that I am still on to this day.”
Spoiler alert for the rest of the essay.2
“My Gun Culture is Not Your Gun Culture”
One of the most brilliant writers I know,
, writes in The New Republic:Black Southerners weren’t displaying their guns as a visible symbol of defiance, like the iconic portraits of armed Black Panthers from the 1960s. There’s nothing wrong with that at all—to stand in the face of white America and boldly announce you won’t be backing down. But the ways guns were culturally held in the Black South were different, the covert protection kept for when white supremacists reared their heads at you, that you pull out when needed. That is the distinguishing feature of Black Southern gun culture as opposed to mainstream white gun culture: Black Southern gun culture is a response to violent white supremacy and a defense against it, not a colonial offensive against marginalized groups to subjugate them.
Speaking of Black Southerners…
“Bobby Rush Brought Out His Biggest, Baddest, Best’est Booty Shaking Black Women and Blew All Them White Folks ‘Way from The Hot Air Balloon Fest”
The sweet and lovely Exodus Brownlow has a way with titles and words and stories and…just go on and get into her latest at Doric Literary.
SUBMIT! APPLY!
In July, I’m teaching once again with an incredible faculty of writers at the Tin House Summer Workshop. Application deadline is Feb. 2.
Deadline Feb. 17: Torch Literary Arts’ weeklong PAID creative writing retreat for Black women; applications open Feb. 3
“The Southern Prize and State Fellowships for Literary Arts acknowledge, support, and celebrate writers in [the] nine-state region with $80,000 in awards. The genre for the 2025 cycle is Poetry.”
$20K DAG Prize for Literature: Applications open Feb. 1.
Deadline March 8: Nonfiction workshop with thee Nicole Chung
Applications open Jan. 24 for the Stephen Dixon for Short Fiction from McSweeney’s
You can’t apply for Periplus until later this year, but I’m honored to be serving as a Peripuls mentor for a fourth year. Here’s the mentee class of 2025 and their mentors.
PRE-ORDER TIME!
A Bird in the Air Means We Can Still Breathe by Mahogany L. Browne (And congratulations to
on her STARRED Kirkus review!)
Love, Rita: An American Story of Sisterhood, Joy, Loss, and Legacy by
Black in Blues: How a Color Tells the Story of My People by
Black Genius: Essays on American Legacy by
Alligator Tears: A Memoir in Essays by Edgar Gomez
THAT UBIQUITOUS QUESTION ABOUT PLATFORM…
The good writer folks on Threads (and elsewhere) are having an endless conversation about whether writers need an online presence and a platform to be successful. Some folks have been told by agents that they won’t sign them because they don’t have enough of an online presence, not enough followers, etc. Others have landed agents and book deals without a significant social media presence or following. So what gives? As with most things, it’s complicated. Meghan Elison kindly breaks it down.
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