Flashlight #7: Adventureland
Heyooooo, pals!
Lots of big news over here. First off, my novel is in.
It’s in!!!
I can’t believe I’m even writing that sentence, since I have felt convinced for years—for years—that it was not ever actually going to work. I just couldn’t get all the pieces to fit, or for the characters to feel real enough, or for the plot, which is accidentally quite intricate, to feel both believable and inevitable. But guess what? I worked my ass off, for years, again, years, and I think (she says, gulping, in disbelief) it works? Yeah. Time to commit. It works.
(Actual photo of the moment after I pressed SEND)
I do not think that everything that happens leads to a life lesson, but I’m inclined to think there’s something here to be learned and remind myself later. Not something bland about persistence or a dogged refusal to give up (though I do happen to think those are prerequisites of being a human who writes books), but something instead about instinct, that vague and nebulous inside music.
There is so much instinct involved in writing a book, a sort of feeling that something works or doesn’t, that a character is or isn’t something, that there are these mysterious bubbling up of ideas from nowhere that bring everything together. The latter has been called many things, the muse, or in this great TED talk by Elizabeth Gilbert, creative genius.
As for how it applies to one of my takeaways from this project, I think it’s this: I quit this novel many times over. Decided to give it up. Moved away and on to something else. But something I could never exactly articulate, some instinct, always pulled me back. Like I had an invisible chord tethering me to it. I don’t mean to make it sound so woo-woo—in many ways, I feel a lot less emotionally tethered to this book than The Electric Woman for the obvious reasons of memoir vs. fiction—and yet, there was some feeling I had, deeper than my ability to articulate a reason, that kept me coming back to it. And so I did. Again and again, following some instinct back to it even when I felt grumpy as all hell about it.
And now it’s done. THE RED GROVE is coming out in the world from FSG in May, 2024.
(Here's a compilation of goats screaming like humans, a video genre I LOVE, to celebrate.)
And here are two early blurbs from writers I love and admire so much, they make me want to faint with gratitude:
From Clare Beams: “This gorgeous, frightening novel maps the hidden roots-- as intricately woven as those beneath the ancient redwood forest of its setting-- that link mother to daughter, and sibling to sibling, and utopia to fear. THE RED GROVE is a strange and wondrous flowering, equal parts gripping mystery, moving coming-of-age story, and brilliant exploration of the self-definition of a community founded on an impossible promise. Fontaine has given us a deft and enrapturing novel full of underground secrets, ready to spring.”
From Rufi Thorpe: "An eerie and beautiful exploration of the violence between men and women and the true nature of magic, The Red Grove is a shimmering, hidden world, and Fontaine is ferocious in every line. Intoxicating and impossible to put down.”
I you haven’t read Clare and Rufi’s books, do yourself a favor and read them as soon as possible. Truly, they are both remarkable writers. And ok, because I wanted to French kiss the stranger who wrote this, here’s a little PS the copyeditor currently working on my book wrote in a note to my editor:
PS. This book is incredible, grabbed me all the way through like I haven’t been grabbed in a long time!
Ok, enough about the book and my effusive delight at it being done.
What about the great western van adventure? Indeed.
After 23 days on the road (who’s counting!?), we have finally returned to Asheville, and damn, never has a bed felt more comfortable. Leela, angel that she is, has been sleeping long nights in her crib without a peep since we’ve returned, and happily rolling around in there once she wakes up, which is the exact opposite of how sleeping on the road went for the 552 hours of our 23 days on the road (not that I kept track).
But really, I’m so very glad we went. We made our way along the western coast all the way from San Luis Obispo, CA, to Seattle, WA. We camped in Redwoods National Park, in an Oregon flower farm, in a campsite with a full gang of children who recruited Leela and fed her stolen blueberry muffins, near chickens and goats and a bunny rabbit who we kept getting carrots to feed but by the time we reached the rabbit, Leela had shoved all the carrots into her mouth. We spent many days on the beach, splashing in the frigid water. We marveled at the redwoods. The nights were miserable—Leela just would not sleep in that van—and the days were wonderful and brimming with adventure and it is very clear to me why most people don’t go on a long van trip with a toddler.
Speaking of not going on long trips with a toddler, we leave for Lisbon on Monday! We’ll be there three months! Last night my stepdad asked me if we were packed and ready and I LOLed.
We’ll be working remotely while we’re there, and also taking plenty of time to explore. I’m excited to eat the sardines. Also some glorious custard pastry thing. But mostly when I think about being in Portugal, I imagine sitting at a small, rickety table in a cobblestone square with new Portuguese friends, who will all be very old women who rattle off life lessons and dirty jokes, squinting into the sun, while we cheers our glasses of Port and shoo the flies and agree on how cute Leela looks running wild with the other children as they chase cats.
Will send pics of this fantasy life, I promise.
While we’re in Portugal, I also plan to write a first, ugly draft of a new book. Ok there, I’m saying it publicly so I really have to do it! I’ll be too ashamed to fail. I don’t have anything to say yet about what the book is, but I’m going to try this sprint approach for a first draft because I’ve always been slow and it seems fun to try something really different in a new place. I’ll let you know how it goes.
Upcoming classes and offerings:
Accountability Workshop: Annie Hartnett and I have been writing partners since 2018, and neither of us would have been able to write our second books without each other and our accountability contract. For a year, we've been running Accountability Anti-Workshops for writers. In addition to bi-weekly meetings, we offer one-on-one consultations whenever you need them, online cave writing sessions, a slack chat, a monthly speaker series (we've had agents and publicists and scrivener classes and SO many amazing writers – recently, Marie-Helene Bertino, Sequoia Nagamatsu, Alex Marzano-Lesnevitch, and on the 22nd of this month, Jonathan Escoffery) and a book club! It’s so much fun. We have afternoon workshops on Wednesdays 1-2:30pm ET and 8-9:30pm ET, and will be adding more cohorts soon, so if another day/time works better for you, let me know. Opt in for one month or forever.
The Art of Death with Tessa Fontaine, Atlas Obscura. Course Description: Death is taboo, private, mysterious. Most of us don’t know exactly what happens to the body as it’s dying, or after it’s dead, or how to try to connect with those who are gone. In this online course, we’ll take an inquisitive and interdisciplinary approach to thinking about death and dying, incorporating medical science, case studies, and personal curiosity. We’ll learn about different practices in rituals surrounding dying, death, and mourning, and draw upon materials and experts in all kinds of death-related fields, from death doulas and morticians to scientists who use flesh-eating beetles to clean carcasses. Each week will include some outside materials, in-class discussions, and occasional creative writing prompts to get us thinking about death in new ways. We’ll investigate not only what happens to the dying and dead, but also what happens to the living as we come to think deeply about the other side.This course includes five total sessions, each lasting for 1.5 hours on five Sundays beginning September 24th, 2:30-4pm ET.
Individual writing coaching and editing: Do you have a story to tell, but aren’t sure how to begin? Do you have questions about how to find an agent or a publisher? About magazine publishing or literary journals? Are you ready to finish a project or start a new one? As a writing coach, I work with writers in all stages of their writing life--from brand new to well-published. I love getting to be a part of your creative process, no matter what kind of creativity you cultivate, or what kind of questions you have. I can help you get deep into the projects that matter most to you, and find a sustainable schedule to get you to the finish line. I also work with writers with finished drafts of manuscripts, ushering them from idea through numerous drafts and finally to the finish line. Check out on my website for more info, or reach out to see if we’d be a good fit.
Good Moms on Paper Podcast: We’re having so much fun with this. Join me, Annie Hartnett, and Ellen O'Connell Whittet as we interview other writers about writing, parenting, and creative accountability. Listen to any of the past 40 episodes we’ve recorded for fantastic conversations. We’re taking a small break right now, but will be back with Season Three soon.
Endorsements:
Beef (Netflix): Dark comedy tv show with Ali Wong and Steven Yeun that starts off with a small road rage incident, which builds and builds as the character's beef with one another grows and we see two people, who have so many areas of their life which is out of their control, pour their anger into this petty conflict. It's funny and smart and great.
I Have Some Questions For You by Rebecca Makkai: This newish novel, which follows a podcaster who returns to her boarding school to teach a class and gets enmeshed in the unsolved murder that occurred when she was a student, is page-turnery in a delightfully smart way. In addition to the plot at hand, it questions the nature of our obsession with the stories of murdered young women, and true crime, how much we want clean endings.
Alice Elliot Dark’s substack, especially her recent thinking in this post about whether she is a person. Whether, with the political, cultural, healthcare, etc., backsliding that has been globally eroding women’s rights, this fundamental question arises about whether—if people are supposed to be relatively equal—she is a person at all. "How can I not wonder at this moment as women's rights are eroding and hatred toward women is growing more blatant... I have given a lot of thought to why I think I am a person, and why I think animals are persons, and how every living thing manifests personhood. It comes down to this: I don't want to be controlled."
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Xo,
Tessa
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