My first pen pal was a girl named Star.
I was in early elementary school and my class had been paired with a group at another school for a pen-pal exchange. Star and I wrote to each other only a handful of times, as I remember it, but the letters felt like actual magic to me. A girl I’d never met existed out there somewhere, writing to me. Reading what I’d written to her.
Poor Star didn’t know what she had coming. Other kids wrote, like, a sentence. Meanwhile, I was chronicling my days and daydreams with a meticulous dedication that should be reserved for government agents. All in bright, colorful ink. With glitter. And lots of stickers.
Fortunately for Star, the program ended and I found a new avenue for all the thoughts that nobody had asked for: my diary. I used a black and white composition notebook and wrote PRIVATE across the front because I’d recently become obsessed with the movie Harriet the Spy and nothing says “Nothing to see here!” like an all-caps directive.
I kept diaries from elementary school through college. Early on, I wrote about school and friends, what I was doing and what I wanted to do. I relayed AIM conversations. I taped in notes that were passed to me between classes. And like any good future rom-com writer1, I reported on crushes—mine and everybody else’s—with a commitment that’s both horrifying and impressive, as if I’d someday be quizzed on who my best friend held hands with during homeroom on October 12th.
In later years, I wrote pages and pages, working through feelings that seemed too big and problems that required Real Journals with leather covers. I abandoned the colorful gel pens for black ink. I wrote for an audience of one: Future Me.
Then I started a blog.
In my defense, it was 2009. My best friend had started a blog, so I started a blog. (I saw Cady Heron wearing army pants and flip-flops, so I wore army pants and flip-flops.)
For a while, my friend was the only person who knew about it. I wrote every entry, ostensibly, to her. Years later, after the audience had grown and expanded to include strangers who stopped me in coffee shops (and who still write me the nicest, most thoughtful messages on Instagram2), I continued to write as if she was my only reader.
But then writing became my day job, and the internet changed, and even though people were kind and I’d built some real, special connections, I could no longer fool myself into pretending that only a few people would read what I’d written. I became deeply self-conscious of every word. I deleted the blog, then tucked all my old diaries into a forgotten pile on the highest shelf in my closet. Something inside me shut down, and I stopped journaling altogether.
That was years ago, and although I still face those familiar, uneasy fears—although I’m still self-conscious, and writing publicly is weird, and page fright is real—I’m here anyway, looking for new pen pals. Hoping to tap into some of that old magic I felt as a kid.
But first, a friendly disclaimer: as a dedicated inbox-zero type, I know how valuable email real estate can be, so if you decide to duck out of here, I don’t blame you. I am you. “Unsubscribe” is my love language.
If you do stick around, here’s what you can expect to arrive sporadically in your inbox: a lot of book talk, reading recommendations, writing insights, and far too many pop culture references. I’ll talk to other writers. I’ll share my favorite banter and gush about why Julia Roberts is the only actress who could pull off certain lines. And I’ll probably sneak in melodramatic lyrics that would’ve made killer away messages3, too.
In the meantime, thanks for reading. I’m grateful you’re here. And if I could type to you in purple glitter ink, I would.
Recent Reads
This Spells Love by Kate Robb — nostalgic, banter-filled romance with 13 Going on 30 vibes.
Writers & Lovers by Lily King — gorgeous prose and that sort of melancholy, swept-away feeling.
Good Material by Dolly Alderton — breakup drama through the sharp lens of perfect British wit. (Team Dolly, always.)
Bonus Banter
Because it’s a perfect movie and Heath Ledger saying Hey there, girlie lives rent-free.
More to come on my fiction writing in a future newsletter!
If you’re one of these people: hi, hello, thank you. It means the most.
~*cAuSe LiFe Is ShOrT bUt SwEeT fOr CeRtAiN*~
What a fun issue to kick off your newsletter!
I’m over here, raising my hand enthusiastically feeling so seen when it comes to the joy of pen pals (I had one in Turkey. I thought of myself as so sophisticated and so, so certain we’d be lifelong international friends), diary entries (where I also attempted to be a cool doodler like all the cool diary keepers on tv, to much failure), and one of the best movies that has without a doubt guided my life (Nancy Drew & Harriet were my career guideposts).
Looking forward to reading more of your fabulous words and hearing all about your fiction writing journey xo
Your reflection on writing/sharing thoughts and ideas makes me want to start doing it more. Writing for work - academic writing in particular - has dulled my storytelling and conception of audience and I want to reclaim it. I used to encourage students to write blogs in the 2000s - I hope it didn’t create any awkward sharing.