Desire paths

Back-to-school thoughts, plus some book news

For two years, I walked my kid to school every morning. By “school” I mean his Universal 3K/Pre-K program at a small early childhood center close to our home. By “close to our home” I mean three-ish blocks away, one of those blocks being very long and the walk itself requiring us to cross Brooklyn’s central artery, Flatbush Avenue, at one of its most treacherous five-way intersections.

This particular intersection has three prominent desire paths, places where it is missing crosswalks and protected pedestrian traffic lights but where people cross anyway — if this land were still grass, these would be criss-crossing lines of trampled dirt, but it’s pavement and so they remain invisible until someone gets hit by a car. I never once crossed outside the crosswalk with my kid (though I often did and still do if I am alone). The traffic on Flatbush does not stop often, and our way was the long way, requiring lots of waiting for the red hand to turn into the walking person.

Our walk was during the morning rush hour. So much hurry. Every day we witnessed trucks and buses blow through red lights. Often we saw near-accidents. Once a school bus veered off the road to avoid hitting a dump truck that — inexplicably, perhaps the driver was not from Brooklyn — slowed at a yellow light instead of speeding up. The bus had no kids on it. The driver was shaken but fine. Once we saw a cyclist get hit by a minivan. The accident looked and sounded worse than it was. The bike was damaged but the cyclist was okay.

The whole two years we made this daily commute, I had a low (okay, sometimes high) level of anxiety that we had not yet seen the worst of it, that one day would be the day we never forgot. And then one day, it was over. We made it.

The kid went to summer camp in July and August, which involved a much longer walk that still includes the lovely part where we count snails but no five-way intersection. And on Thursday, he started kindergarten, which involves an even longer walk or a city bus but no five-way intersection.

[I have no words for the feeling of waking up to news of another school shooting on the day your five-year-old starts kindergarten.]

We are still figuring out the best way to get to the new school. He is still figuring out how he feels about the new school. His UPK program had eight kids. His new elementary school has over 900. Last night at bedtime he said, “I’m not used to it yet.” Me neither, but we will get there.

This week in Leave news

New newsletter section, for those of you following along with my book pub journey!

WE HAVE A COVER.

And it is amazing.

It’s even better than I imagined. Amy Wheaton absolutely crushed it. I’m not sharing it here yet because I offered an exclusive cover reveal to one of my favorite lit mags, so cross your fingers that they want to share it with the world. If they don’t, I’ll reveal it here and on Instagram in the coming weeks.

WE HAVE AN ARC.

If you are a writer who does reviews or interviews and you want an ARC, please reach out! (Read the back cover description first to make sure it’s up your alley. I guess I should have some kind of content warning or something but I really don’t believe in them and I think the cover will do that job nicely. You’ll see what I mean.)

PREORDER GOES LIVE VERY SOON.

The only thing we are waiting on now is this potential cover reveal. As soon as that’s sorted, the book will be available for preorder and DON’T YOU WORRY, dear TNN reader, you will be informed.

This week in writing

I’ve been working on my essay for the Rockford anthology. Sara Lippmann’s Ungodly Hour Writing Club is back for the month of September and it couldn’t have come at a better time. I love seeing those names in the Zoom at 5:30am. So much good energy.

This week in reading

I finished Elisa Albert’s The Snarling Girl and Other Essays (just out from Clash Books) and I started Donato Loia’s 1095 Short Sentences (just out from B-Side Editions) and Emily Adrian’s Daughterhood (just out from Autofocus). I am excited about Alice Kaltman’s forthcoming graphic memoir, Alice’s Big Book of Mistakes (out September 24 from word west). Indie presses forever because what else are we doing if we’re not writing and reading what our hearts want to write and read, going around the algorithms to find the art that makes it all mean something.

This was a bit all over the place, but I do agree with Austin Kleon that newsletters should be letters which is why I come here and talk to you as if you are a you and I am a me, because we are.  

Love to you.