The last time I wrote to you, I was maybe halfway through a breakthrough course that helped clarify my vision for myself, especially when it comes to the conditions I tend to live with—the shoulds and why-nots. It asked me what risks I needed to take, and (unsurprisingly) writing was the bottom line. It’s also the thing I most conditionalize:
I should be writing everyday, if I’m really a writer.
I can’t make a change to how I publish my writing. It’s too much to do.
I don’t have enough to say.
What if no one reads it?
Despite all of these risky statements, despite the many mental blocks in my head, I know I’m meant to be writing. I’m made for it. As I put it in my journal a few weeks ago: “The less I write, the less I feel like myself.”
I’m still working out details here, still unsure how it will all unfold. But here’s another piece of clarity that has carried me to this moment:
I’ve been struggling to show up on Mailchimp because my work involves this platform—every single week.
I still love Mailchimp, and I am not going to advise clients to leave it any time soon. Newsletters still work, especially if you love the platform and have built up your subscribers on it. I did that for years.
But if you find yourself no longer wanting to open whatever platform you use, or no longer finding joy in it, let me be the first to suggest (from my own experience): pushing yourself to continue to use it won’t work.
Many of you may know that this space was born of becoming a missionary; it was where I sent out newsletters for years, updating supporters. It’s hard when your faith changes but your platform remains the same (my upcoming memoir will hold this story of change). Maybe that’s another reason why leaving feels right.
All of this to say: I’m transitioning to Substack. I need a different space to write. A new space. A space where my writing has more potential to be found by new people. Where my writing can form new connections, can help others feel less alone. Where my platform won’t be tied to work or to the before of a before & after story.
This is still a work-in-progress. But here’s what I want you to know:
You won’t have to do anything to still receive my words. They will still arrive in your inbox. If you don’t want to stay subscribed, that’s okay. You can unsubscribe at the bottom of this email today, and you won’t receive another word from me. I know our emails are very full places these days!
It will still be free. But if you’d like to support me, I’ll still feature the link to buy me a coffee, as well as extra benefits for those who do subscribe to the paid tiers on substack (this is likely where poetry and advent/lent features will live in the future).
Finally, the name and subject matter: Right now, it’s called embodied deconstruction; it might get a different name soon, but right now, this name describes the types of subjects I’ll be writing about: deconstructing faith, how my chronically ill/disabled body has impacted my faith & faith deconstruction, and anything else at the intersection of body & soul.
I think my aim will be for a once-a-month essay, free for all to read. Anything extra would be for those who are subscribed (for as little as $5/month).
Okay, I think that’s it! If you’d like to go ahead and subscribe to my substack, click the button below. Note: if you don’t click the button, you’ll automatically be subscribed once the first essay goes out next month.
Subscribe to Embodied Deconstruction here!
I’d love to know your thoughts, hopes, and/or questions for this transition and new writing space; really anything you’d like to share, I’m here to listen! Just comment below and start a conversation. That’s something I’ve also always loved about Mailchimp—getting personal responses. But, with Substack, there’s the opportunity for your personal response to become communal—for the comments section to be a place to connect with others, a place to help each of us feel a little less alone.
— Katie
Leave a Reply