Hope Is an Awkward Fit for Me These Days

Less than two days ago I was in despair. Biden resigned, and I was sure that meant Trump would win. Friends kept talking about how us Democrats would rally now that Kamala would be our candidate. I hissed at more than one of them that I couldn't believe they used the word "democrat" and "rally" in the same sentence. When did that ever, ever happen? And did they really think that the party's old white men and some women (my age) power wielders would allow that? They would for sure pull out some combo of arcane party rules to block her. I was bitter and sarcastic.

And I put aside all writing projects to again research dual citizenship in Great Britain. When Trump was elected, I couldn't find a single country that both had a few basic disability rights laws and would accept disabled people as immigrants or refugees. Even Canada rejects people based on disability as well as families with disabled children. But I did join Ancestry for long enough to download my mother's naturalization documents. I had never known that when I was born, she was still a citizen of Great Britain. The next step would be to pay money to ask a lawyer if that means I have dual citizenship. But back then I didn't pursue it further since it seemed expensive and too much to figure out.

And this week I still haven't pursued leaving because, once again, I am wrong. Within hours of Biden resigning, we did rally. Hope is an awkward fit for me these days. And I am still waiting for the arcane rules to be invoked. But today I am writing again. I am physically on my own at a table in a coffee shop near my house but I am not alone. I have a futuristic story about disabled people surviving climate change out to a disabled writer friend for feedback. And I have an essay that I've long thought might work for a glossy nature magazine, but they want pitches and that stops me.

I don't know how to write a pitch. I don't want to write a pitch. Why do I have to figure out why my essay is a fit or why it's relevant or why my angle is unique, and why do I have to give them a sense of my "voice" or come up with a suggested headline when they know they're just going to make up their own. Why can't the magazine just read the essay itself? It's not that long. There is more to my whining rant, but I'll spare you. Also, sometimes, I’m too overwhelmed to learn anything new.

But I have a writer friend who writes successful pitches. So after I donate to Harris’ campaign, in the spirit of all this "rallying," I ask this writer to help me. Which means I have to try to write the pitch, so she has something to fix. I think my friend writes good pitches because she is not precious about her own writing. Unlike me, if a publisher wants to change the entire direction of her article or slaps a sort of yukky click-bait title at the top, she's not especially happy but emotionally, she's unphased. She does not become outraged or dramatically declare her work ruined, completely ruined the way I do. She doesn't cling to every word and mourn the loss of nuance. She sends me an example of her latest pitch. My brain is like an ignition with a failing starter these days, but I keep at it until the writing creeps forward. I come up with a title and even a subtitle to suggest. I remind myself not to get attached—to anything.

So I've gathered writer friends to me. I've asked for help. I have and will offer it in return. I alternate writing with checking in on the news. Instead of dread, I'm excited. Kamala passed the needed threshold for delegates. This second chapter of the novel isn't complete crap. No one on my feeds is posting those ridiculous and divisive "she better not support whatever, or I won't vote for her." Yet. Perhaps I will finally create a physical version of The Sacrifice Zone, the novel I serialized here on Substack. They announce that Pelosi endorses Harris. Pelosi is way late to the party. I consider the writing projects I have ready or are in progress or I have hope for in the future. The future! I make a list of concrete ways to pursue them: reformulate the short story collection, list themes for essays to write for a possible collection, outline the plot that’s emerging from the novel chapters I've written, revise the essay called "Old Dogs," update the list of publishers who don't require agented submissions. A state by state graph of small donor money is posted online—here in Florida we are rallying big.

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