It's the weather

Photo by gryffyn m on Unsplash

I keep trying to write something profound and beautiful but it all sounds like bullshit and like I’m trying too hard and like I haven’t written in months which is opposite of the truth because I’ve been buried in book writing for weeks now, consumed with my voice and stories to the point of ad nauseam.

I keep trying to write something because I have been ignoring this space, not on purpose, but because time goes so fast at the end of summer and I can never catch my breath. It’s at this moment each year that I realize I’m older and the year is nearing its end and for me that feels so heavy and overwhelming. 

It’s the weather too, because it rules my emotions even though I wish it were otherwise. All of last week (which felt like a year, really) Los Angeles was in triple digits and while I have air conditioning (thank god) it screeched every hour and threatened to let me drown in my own sweat. Fire followed the heat, which is often the case in California, and this left the air muddy with leftover summer and burning trees. Though a soft fog has rolled in this morning, the exhaustion still lingers. The smoke stays. While I can trace the cool air with my fingers, it hasn’t cleansed anything just yet. 

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I turn thirty-four in four days, which may be why I feel so much. I can’t pinpoint how I feel or if I’m actually feeling anything, though I know I am because a lump has formed in my throat and I washed my hair twice in the shower because I forgot. I’m so uninterested in birthdays any longer because they are a reminder of fragility and time that won’t slow even when you get on your knees and beg it to. Maybe it’s because four birthdays ago I decided I wanted to have a baby and thought it would be as simple as making that declaration. Time for a baby! I shouted, whipped cream on my lips, spoon in the air. Instead, I was gifted a playbook for infertility and grief.

The interesting part is that I’m the happiest I’ve been in years, which I told a friend recently. I’m busy—too busy—with work and projects and writing. But it’s felt necessary to wake up from whatever curse has kept me static. It’s the most alive I’ve felt in a while, the most erratic, really. Though I’ve taken on too much and can feel the burnout creeping in, I don’t regret saying yes to everything simply because I wanted to. I don’t regret distracting myself or allowing my mind to think about things other than infertility.

I’m happy, I told her. I don’t feel at peace. But I do smile more often. 

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Book updates: 

• I’m finishing up the first draft of my manuscript and plan to go out on submission with my agent later this fall (!!). This is my second memoir (the first one didn’t sell), so I’m extremely nervous yet excited to go out on submission again. Something feels different about this one and I can’t wait to share more about it in the coming weeks.  

• This feels like such a silly ask, but I need your help to increase my paid subscriber count before going out on a submission since we will be sharing substack numbers in the proposal. I’ve discounted annual subscriptions so that they are only $20/year: https://kaytichristian.substack.com/subscribe?coupon=45ee1607. If you love this newsletter, would you consider upgrading to paid so I can get a little orange checkmark and hopefully impress editors? As a thank you, I will be sharing some excerpts of the book with paid subscribers in the coming weeks.

Life updates:  

• I launched a podcast with one of my dearest friends this past summer (and

  FogChaser
  did the intro music).

• My friend Henah and I started a travel substack this summer, too. It’s fun and lighthearted — mostly book recs and solo travel advice for women.

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Weekly Feels

• If this isn’t an anthem ✊

• I finally snagged a copy of Nightbitch before the Amy Adams show premiers. I love Amy Adams, but I can’t imagine the show will live up to the prose

• The sweetest video 🥹