Out Loud

I went on a writing retreat in Maine at the beginning of this month and am still floored by the women I met. Every single one of them had a story and every single story was stunning. The things we go through - 90% at the hands of men - should lay waste to us but… they don’t. We continue to get up off the floor, dust ourselves off, and walk back into a world actively trying to defeat us. It’s exhausting and sometimes impossible to do. But age has taught me that the only way forward is through, together. That last part is key - together. Sharing our stories with each other heals in and of itself. It weaves even tighter that invisible thread connecting us. It reassures that we’re not alone; that we’re not the only one going through whatever is plaguing us at the moment.

The common theme among the writing group was, of course, the hesitation and fear to put their stories to paper (and these are people who paid money to travel to a writing retreat!). Seeing words on paper can be jarring, harsh, even as your very being craves to be heard. Everyone was willing to share them verbally. But to do so, they had to arrange childcare, take time off from work, and fly to another city to make it happen. Women hold up the crossbeams of society; asking them to step away for even an afternoon requires ninja-level tetris skills.

These are all things I’ve been pondering around our first in-person workshop. I didn’t have many sign-ups, so I’ve postponed it for the moment. I think doing it virtually will work better, especially as Sharp Skirts is still something of an unknown entity. I don’t think I’ve yet cracked the code on ‘selling’ this brand. Everyone loves the idea in theory but in practice, it’s way too easy to deprioritize your voice in favor of pretty much every other thing in your life. Thing is, I truly believe it’s vital we speak and write, especially right now. Telling our stories is a Must Have, not a Nice to Have. If we don’t center ourselves, other people will fill the void. And we’ve seen how that turns out.

Stay fierce,
Carla

I’m reading two memoirs by remarkable Black women right now - Somebody’s Daughter by Ashley C. Ford, and Finding Me by the actor Viola Davis. Their stories contain double the cruelty, thanks to racism combined with sexism. The fact that they put such pain on the page and then shared it with the world is the best kind of bravery.

Have I already written about poets Andrea Gibson and Megan Falley? Maybe but so what, I’m obsessed. If you’ve ever lost someone, these posts will stick in your bones. After Andrea’s death from cancer, Megan has picked up the writing baton and her journey through grief has been just astounding. There is so much beauty and pain and loss in her words. I finish every post with tears streaming down my face.

And if all this ridiculous third-term talk is stressing you out, have a read of Charlotte Clymer. She’ll fix you right up.

Fall is supposedly ‘cuffing season’, when people pair up in anticipation of the winter months, so it seems appropriate to examine some notable relationships. This post about Kristen Bell and Dax Shephard had me nodding vehemently as I read. As a friend remarked, “He’s trash. She’s amazing.”

In a very similar vein, the note David Harbour wrote Lily Allen about her opening night play will make your teeth grind. You’re good to be rid of him, Lily.

And last but very much not least, settle in with a glass of something and read this fascinating piece on Taylor Swift, Madonna, and bell hooks. That’s all I’m gonna say!

“I’ve met a lot of hard boiled eggs in my life. But you? You’re 20 minutes.”
From the most excellent 1951 Kirk Douglas film, Ace in the Hole

Billy Wilder could freaking write, man. Why don’t people talk like this anymore? Let’s revive it.