giving up is not the same as letting go

Portland! I will be reading at Belmont Books on Tuesday July 14 at the release party for Pile Press’ latest issue. Readers form 7-9, with light refreshments.

I love quitting. I don’t give up.

Quitting is about knowing when to end something, to walk away, to make space for other things. It is about trying something new, working to improve, but not sticking with something (or someone) that is sinking you. It is about moving on.

I especially love quitting jobs, when there are other jobs that are less draining, or better pay, or more aligned with how I want to spend my time.

Quitting projects is harder. Especially ones that have outlived every address I’ve had, and many relationships.

But it’s time.

If you are a subscriber, you should’ve received a note with June’s card about what this means for you.

If you’ve been waiting to get a subscription, now might be a good time. Sign up by July 31 to be sure to receive the last 13 postcards.

last yearly subscription

The last folded postcard with a prompt for your response will be sent. And then?

I will turn 50.

I will urge you to mail in your responses.

I will probably go swimming.

Will there be a show like the ones we’ve had before? Probably. Will there be a book? Maybe. Will Leslie continue to archive every card and response? Hopefully.

Maybe I’ll start a new mailing project. Maybe I will finally answer my mail with less than a 6 month turn around. Maybe I will finish a writing project.

These are next year’s worries.

This year, I am reaching out to potential collaborators, and designing new cards, and trying to keep up on the archiving. And swimming. Always swimming.

I also rehomed my press in May. Even though I’ve been talking about it for months, it was sad and a relief. I have been a printer without a press before. And soon I will be an artist without a long running mail art project.

The day the press was moved was actually the third day I thought the press would be moved. It was an exercise in communication.2 And patience. And asserting myself. When the kindest equipment mover I know3 unloaded the press at its new home, I thanked him endlessly and told him I hoped to never see him again.

For many years I hoped the Keep Writing project would grow enough to warrant the press I bought for it. I tried things. Some ideas worked. Others didn’t. I adjusted expectations. I can’t say if I made mistakes, but I still love that press and what it can do. I’m looking forward to printing a few more.

And I am looking forward to a break. What will it be like to not have a project constantly slightly behind? I’ll probably have another, because my aspirational to-do list is optimistically endless—I want to do so much. But I can’t do it all.

As a favorite card reminds us:

…this might not make any sense to you.

In 2008, I started a postcard project, mailing a handmade postcard to willing subscribers every month. I added a question and card for a return response.

Every month.

Two hundred and eight cards and counting.4

About 165 subscribers on average, but not always the same ones. Across three states, plus guest locations, like that time I mailed 200 cards from Poland, or when I had everyone mail cards to my mom and forgot to warn her.

Two grants: one to expand the reach of the project, and one to help archive it.

Forty-five (or so) collaborators. Responses included in two different books and one radio show. At least two postcards about dead friends. Many many questions about how to keep going.

I keep going.

I’m not sure I’ve said this enough. Thank you. I am so glad you are here.

I am working on updating the collaborators and exhibitions pages on my website.

Meanwhile, subscribe, or pick up a mystery pack of postcards, currently 50% off through 7/31. Ten postcards, ready to sent to a friend, plus one sample of Keep Writing, all for five dollars.

take care of each other, okay?

Hope