Grief

nothing needs to change too much

painting: “Hound” by Sally Muir

(I would normally do a last pass over this edition before it comes out tomorrow, but woke up with a terrible pain in my eye. I ended up having to go to the ER and then the ophthalmologist—I have a scratch on my cornea. Please forgive any errors.)

I have been eating Klondike bars lately. I bought four giant jars of peeled and sectioned grapefruit, which I didn’t know you could even purchase in such a state until my mother-in-law came to stay with us for five months and introduced me to the miracles of Del Monte Grapefruit in a Jar. Today I was sad, so I asked C if we could please get burritos from our favorite burrito joint. He said, Okay. I ordered the burrito (a “super” bean burrito with no rice, which is much like a tortilla filled exclusively with mush) and devoured it in less than ten minutes. Now I’m watching Season 4 of “Succession.” I’m not sure for how much longer “Succession” will be my comfort show, but it’s doing the job for now.

There have been several occasions for grief this year, and yet the grief I feel right now, over the transition out of the current iteration of The Unexpected Shape Academy, and into a new iteration where my assistant, Chloe, will no longer be the kind and generous shepherd of the Academy, feels harder than I expected that it would. Chloe reminds me that she isn’t actually going anywhere; she’s simply not working with me anymore. But I have been contemplating how much of an enormous part of my life she’s been for the past five years, and the thought of not speaking to her every day feels like a deep, blue-gray ache.

I used to think that grief was a word reserved for death—and not only death, but also enormous, terrifying deaths of those most cherished. I felt I could not use it for anything else.

I asked my best friend today if she was more afraid of the deep sea or of outer space. She said the deep sea. According to her, outer space is not so different from plane travel. We talked about the deep-sea submersible tragedy that ate up every inch of news earlier this year. We talked about the terrifying deep-sea creatures that we’ve all seen photographs of.

But I told her that outer space is more frightening. I think the endlessness of outer space makes it unfathomably scary. I think about being an astronaut and floating endlessly, alone, into the pitch of space. I know that at some point, I would die from starvation or thirst, but in my imagination, I would simply float on forever and ever, unable to die, unable to end. I think I might be more frightened of not ending than afraid of an ending.

So many people I know have had to shut down their small businesses this year. I see new announcements every day. Some have run their endeavors for a decade or more. The dismal economy, inflation, and waning customers combine to create an ending. A friend of mind published her revenue numbers for the last few years, and this year has, by far, been the lowest.

When Chloe told me that she would be leaving, I thought that I would shut down the Academy in timing with her departure. And yet unlike many people who have chosen to run their own small businesses, I began the journey of self-employment because I cannot physically and mentally survive a typical nine-to-five. I couldn’t fathom doing anything else but rebuilding the Acafemy with less overhead and at a more affordable price.

And so the Academy continues. It is currently in a different shape; the curriculum for our personal nonfiction program, plus our vast library of guest lectures, are available to students—along with a community and space for conversation—for the early-bird price of $97/month. Will it work? I do not know. We have some new students studying inside this new creation, and I am still wrapping up business with our original students by working with them 1:1.

Chloe has been such a gift, and I’m glad that she told me that she would be leaving when she needed to leave while still giving us time to lend her skills to help wind things down with the current cohort. The job description is below—so if you’re interested in a job as a VA that’s remote-friendly, 4-6 hours/week, and $30/hour, check it out.

the home of Katarzyna Tabath-Sklorz

I’m going to be spending about a month and a half in Taiwan this winter, and I am unprepared to not see my grandmother, who passed from breast cancer during the pandemic. I’d been planning on seeing her in 2020—I was afraid that I wouldn’t be able to see her for one last time—but that was not to be.

The funny thing about someone dying in a far-off country is that it seems less likely that they’re dead and more like they’re simply unavailable to you, in the same way that they usually are unavailable to you because they’re living far away from you. She was my remaining grandparent and my favorite one.

My grandmother was not what you could immediately call a hardy or “strong” woman, and yet I think of her as very much so. Her husband had a temper that bordered (or not-so-bordered) on abusive, and so her way of dealing with his anger was to sing quietly to herself—for she sang in a choir most of her life—until the anger passed or until she could get away. When her husband died, she was able to live a fuller version of her life; her five children loved her enormously, particularly my mother, and so she lived a full life with much love until she died. Her sister, whom I plan to write about in my next book, had a psychotic break when she left for college, and lived a troubled, desperately sad life in which she was forced into marriage and forced to have a child (both techniques, it seems, to try and get her to become mentally well). She died in a psychiatric institute and the family felt enormous sadness and shame around her doing so. I wish I’d known her. I wish she’d had the help that she needed. I wish a lot of things.

Seeking Virtual Assistant

I've had the same VA for the last five years; she started out as a VA who was an independent contractor, and after a year or two, became a full-time employee with benefits and a 401K.

Though I'm currently looking for a VA, it's possible that, if you're the right person, you'd hopefully have a similar trajectory.

More information about the job and how to apply are available at esmewang.com/job-search.

Join The Unexpected Shape Writing Academy

The Unexpected Shape Writing Academy is open now for enrollment at the early-bird price of $97/month, which will go to $147 on November 5. You may remain a member for however short or long you wish to take part (we recommend at least six months to take advantage of all the material). This early-bird price will soon go up to $147/month. If you sign up during the early-bird period, you’ll be grandfathered in for $97/month even when the price increases.

One payment of $97/month gets you:

• 8 modules of core curriculum

• Access to our private Skool community

• An amazing library of 12+ guest lectures from today’s most brilliant writers, including Eula Biss, Leslie Jamison, Suleika Jauoad, and Hanif Abdurraqib

Here’s what it would ordinarily cost:

• 8 X $147 per class = retail price $1176/month

• 12 X $147 per guest lecture = retail price $1764/month

Total retail monthly price: $3037 (!!!)

A year from now, you'll have wished that you started today....

So let’s get started. Click here to learn more.