That’s a TERRIBLE pun.

Anyway…

Earlier in the month a latinx writer posted a tweet that’s been jammed in my fucking craw regarding the insistence of many that POC and LGBTQIA writers MUST write of the burden that is being one of the marginalized.

Not naming names mostly to avoid drudging up trolls on anyone’s TL, so you’ll have to deal with that and imagine a tweet in your precious head.

That said, why is there an insistence that marginalized writers focus on their own or the very hard times they’ve experienced? Why are writers like me expected to focus on pain, grief, and injustice without the privilege of escapism?

ARE WE NOT BEACH READS AS WELL?

Jokes aside, it’s a troubling concept. It seems that even in expressing ourselves, the only role some see for marginalized writers is as a tool for the “betterment” of those who aren’t marginalized. Seriously, how many “woke” people you know that quote Coates and Gaye all fucking day long while walking across the street clutching their handbag or back pocket at the first sight of a black kid? In light of recent events, how many of those who espouse the merits of poets like Neruda step back in silence as children of similar heritage are locked away?

I’m using extreme examples and know it but the double standard is extreme and exhausting. What’s the larger play? Is there an issue with normalizing marginalized authors to the point where we can release cleverly punned cozy mysteries that take place in the projects? Is there a problem with the idea that marginalized people are capable of smiling or playing within their own worlds without bringing in the heaviness of prejudice?

In a world of Trumpism, don’t we all deserve the ability to be a little breezier in our art? Two years ago you had assholes all talking up the great art that would arise out of intense struggle and pain but what if that art’s leaning into pure silliness? What if that silliness is completely rooted in the experience of the ones hurting most?

Is the issue relatability? That’s bullshit. There’s plenty of art out there clearly created without me in mind that I’ve enjoyed immensely. If you ask me, it’s merely an insistence on being coddled that drives a lot of these issues. The idea of needing to code switch (even minimally) is uncomfortable and inconvenient, so folks create excuses and straw men to derail the effort.

Change is scary like that, y’all.

You’re going to hear a lot about my thoughts on this as more POC and LGBTQIA writers join me on the podcast. I’m exhausted of being looked down on for my own writing because it hasn’t included a Puerto Rican or like, sadness of eternal darkness or whatever, and I’m damn sure there are many who feel the same say.

It’s a lot to navigate, though, and frankly; it can get dark, angry, and a little off-kilter (all those things people demand!) but the road to change is always ugly.

Here’s to everyone writing that beach read some day.

Oh, and my next two books are ALL about Puerto Ricans. Gird your fucking loins.

be easy,

Angel

 

In recent talks for the podcast, the idea of multi-tasking has come up more than a few times. All that chatter got me wondering if I was handling my own multi-tasking in the “right” way or if I was cluttering my brain too often.

Now when I say “right” I don’t mean a perfect path to success in that endeavor, I’m more focused on figuring out whether I’m effectively using my time when I DO multi-task because it’s easy to start juggling multiple items while not using one’s time quite right—even if you’re accomplishing something.

As an example, an issue I’m dealing this month—book promo for PULL & PRAY. I’m writing, podcasting, and performing other writerly tasks but I’m either overwhelmed or just not properly focusing my effort. One can argue that the work being done is its best promo but I wonder if I could be approaching these items with either more gusto or in a new way.

Then again, if there’s no one, true path stressing out isn’t worth it, is it?

This is the kind of overthinking that can really get your brain tied up into a million knots. It’s why I’ve decided to be a little less concerned about doing too much/too little as well. I’ve devoted minimal time to items such as promotion (of the podcast and books) because it’s not worth stressing about. The effort to tweet, retweet, or blog shouldn’t be overwhelming. It shouldn’t be an additional ball to juggle.

I’m just ranting. Might be worth giving this some more thought at some point—probably when I have bandwidth.

Anyway, what do you do when you’re feeling a little overwhelmed? Do you power through or take a break? Reprioritize? Cry in a broom closet? Sound off in the comments or if you share.

Oh, yeah, PULL & PRAY drops on July 30^th. You can preorder HERE.

Be easy,

Angel

Take a second and think long and hard about your priorities in life.

Go ahead, I’ll wait.

This is just a static screen – I can wait forever. Forever watching; judging your lack of introspection.

You good? That work out? What came into your mind first? Family? Work? Friends? Ice Cream?

There’s a trap we tend to fall into, particularly in the age of social media, in which the fucks we give become spread too thin among things that deserve none of those fucks. We worry about retweets, about “engagement”, or about whether we sound a certain way to a certain crowd. Posturing is the norm and begins to overwhelm us in regards to the portions of our lives that should require the most fucks.

You dig where I’m getting or is this just an excuse to write ‘fuck’ a fuckton of times?

Both.

A big part of my 2018 (let’s be serious, this is probably something stewing since 2016) has been the assessment of my priorities in life, the ‘fucks’ I have to give. A sudden and obvious revelation was how much damage I did to myself placing emotional priority on what others thought of me in a completely abstract environment. This was trash. It affected the things in meatspace that mattered and seriously hindered the growth I experienced the past few years (I naively assumed would remain in place).

So how do we ensure the fucks we give are centered where they need to be? Well, limit them, fucko.

I’ve assigned myself 3 fucks. That’s all. They can be spread within their boundaries but that is all I’ll require.

Here they are:

1. My family (this includes general adulting to keep my family intact)
2. My health (I cannot do any of the other stuff without taking care of me)
3. Writing (not networking, not podcasting, and not platforming. WRITING)

And that’s it. I’ll work to stick to these three fucks. I do not and will not have other fucks to give. Does that mean I cut off non-competing priorities? Of course not, fuckstick. It means I won’t allow the non-essentials to tear my poor brain apart. The essentials need to be the focus and without the added encumbrance should be a lighter load (on some levels, mostly emotional).

I don’t believe this is fool proof or for everyone else but I do believe that this was my initial fuck load when I actually worked to be published for the first time. It worked then and going back to basics is already working for me now.

Give it a shot. Worst case, you realize you’re probably a lot more emotionally healthy than you realized. Best case: you offload a ton of stupid fucking bullshit.

You also get to say you have no fucks to give and mean it. That’s some special star stuff right there, let me tell you.

be easy,

Angel