Rot and riot
A vague roadmap to this newsletter's future and changes in schedule
Hello old and new subscribers—welcome! If you like this newsletter, follow 💌shelfoffering on Instagram and please share this with a friend or two.
I’ve been giving myself permission to consciously rot, unlike unconscious rotting which invariably leads to binge-watching something on the internet [insert streaming platform here] and blaming myself for a lack of effort.
Conscious rotting seems to exist in the same frequency as fermentation: radishes in cider vinegar brine, sauerkraut and quick pickles shockingly pink and achingly purple, kimchi bright orange and revelation. I’ve been hoping that unconscious rotting days would turn out to be like what Anna Tsing describes as “the possibility of life in capitalist ruins” but the matsutake in me is still trying to live out the messes since the beginning of the (ongoing) pandemic years, which I count as open-ended assemblages of life.
There is both beauty and possibility in rot.
The point is, conscious rotting so far has proven to be valuable. I managed to spend a day in thoughts and words, imagining abounding possibilities for what may be ahead for me in terms of writing, thinking, loving, feeling, joy and grief. To wit, a few changes in the schedule of this newsletter:
Mondays free newsletters will be sent on Tuesdays and Fridays paid newsletters will be sent on Saturdays. I’ve been publishing on Mondays and Fridays since 2020. Curious to see if a change will help or harm.
I’m going back to the fortnightly timetable, except instead of one newsletter a week, it’ll be two. So two free newsletters and two paid newsletters a month. Which means paid subscribers get four.
The next free newsletter will be sent on 6 February — an unserious1 essay on cooking with my mother. The corresponding paid newsletter will be sent on 10 February. Then it’ll be 20 February and 24 February.
Paid subscribers have been receiving lengthy, thought-out interviews. As much as I love talking to people, transcribing our conversations, and editing, it’d be fun to mix it up. I’ll be alternating between an essay, an interview, and a recommendation-based newsletter, so I can give myself and you, time to rot.
The thing with conscious rotting—after all the thinking, brainstorming, and the cooking is done—is that eventually, unconscious thoughts begin to creep in. When you’re drawing a roadmap for the future of your work in self-publishing2, which has been quite personal, it can come across as undervalued and distorted. I took a break at the beginning of 2021 and it killed me to not put my thoughts onto a page, whether that was online or offline. All my writing was mechanical, pitching a few stories in between that I was passionate about. It took me two years to realise that this newsletter was a lifeline, that being vulnerable in thoughts, words, and actions didn’t have to be an exception! It’s why I came back and why I intend to write more here, via this newsletter.
I’m not alone in facing this, but as publications shut down, editors go out of work, and pitching opportunities keep drying up/become extremely competitive, the need to create work for yourself, often by yourself, is paramount. At the same, self-publishing has become saturated3, challenging, and alienating.
To be frank, this is how I support myself and my work, but I cannot envision it will keep me afloat for years to come (if it does, I’m ever so grateful and hope to return the favour to everyone else). So I understand if you’re unable to support me by going paid—I face the same dilemma too with so many publications that I love. That said, I put in a lot of time and emotions into thinking, researching, and writing this newsletter every day and I would like this to become a steady stream of income in 2024 and beyond. This month’s essays have brought me more subscribers than I envisaged, and it’s a constant and conscious effort to tell myself to not worry or think about metrics. Writing for clicks is a cursed condition and I know personally that I cannot4 and will not keep up with it even if there’s no escaping it. The last few weeks of 2023 has been a lesson in irreverence.
Anyway, I don’t know where this is heading, but for now I enjoy being at capacity, writing this newsletter and pitching elsewhere, everywhere, and nowhere. Alternatively, please get in touch if you have some writing/editing work for me. If you have engaged with my work or feel it adds some value to your life, please consider going paid. As I wrote in my journal last night, “do some writing, a little rotting”, which reminded me of what I wrote in 2020 that life is possible even in times of uncertainty.
After all the serious and longreads I’ve been putting out prompting some incensed emails from readers (not complaining)!!
A difficult thing to anticipate since nothing has been/will be a constant
I’m to blame as well!
Simply because I’m not located where Substack’s major geographical interest is 🙃
The Mushroom at the End of the World ❤️ There’s so much we can learn from Anna Tsing