Bye Cocoon, Hello Emma B.

welcome back welcome back welcome back

Hi friends!

Two years ago, I started this newsletter as a way of getting back into writing. The weekly commitment of it, taking the time to sit and think about creative process and the content I was consuming, had a healing effect. Two Junes ago, I announced I would be doing “Cocoon June,” and wiped my calendar, cleared my desk, and paused the newsletter. I began writing my novel Songs in Ursa Major, and Cocoon June extended indefinitely.

This June, I come full circle—Songs in Ursa Major publishes on June 22, and I am thus coming out of the cocoon. I’m not the only one—as we all emerge from this year+ chrysalis of fear, political unrest, and isolation, we all must transition gently back into visiting, browsing, and gathering.

In the spirit of reopening, I wanted to dust off this old rag and just…connect. Looking at the names of the 300+ subscribers to this newsletter (thank you, btw <3), this is a family of writers, authors, and publishing folk, and it occurs to me that some of the things I’m thinking as I go through the publication process may apply to you as well. As an editor, I’ve sat on the sidelines for many wonderful authors, but there is nothing like going through it yourself— the rollercoaster of hopefulness, doubt, helplessness, exposure, and excitement is a *trip*.

My strangest companion on the road to publication has actually been my own book. Songs in Ursa Major is also the name of the seminal album written by my character, Jane Quinn. Her Songs in Ursa Major was also released on June 22, fifty years earlier in 1971 (incidentally, the same day that Joni Mitchell released her album, Blue).

Because the music industry and book publishing are mutually intelligible, I often find myself having the same conversations about the book “Ursa Major” in my own universe as my character has about the record “Ursa Major” in hers.

I’ve been thinking a lot about a discussion Jane has with her love interest, Jesse Reid, early in the novel. A mega-famous singer-songwriter, Jesse has written a song his label doesn’t feel fits his image, and Jane urges him to put it on his record anyway.

“They’re just making the recording,” said Jane. “Why should they have any say at all?” Jesse gave her a knowing look.

“Just making an album doesn’t guarantee it will be a success,” he said. “For every one you hear about, there are dozens you don’t. The label determines who gets what—marketing, publicity, tours. Trust me when I say it’s in your best interest to keep them on your side.”

“I don’t need any of that,” said Jane. “People will come to the record.”

This is Jane, btw. She’s a musical prodigy, feminist badass, and all around high-frequency being that inspires her fans to take down corporate baddies and wear shirts that say “What Would Jane Do?” I love her because she has tremendous integrity and is also very messy. Jane’s a part of me in the sense that when I’m getting steamrolled in a meeting, I also think “What would Jane do?” But as much as I try to emulate Jane’s big faith, I find I identify just as much with her A&R man, Willy Lambert, who is the neurotic one fussing over her print run and equating publicity hits to units sold.

When I first sat down to write the book, it took a while for me to get the editor in me “out of the room,” and I don’t know that I ever truly succeeded; my hopes are present in Jane’s continued faith in her art and ability to connect with her fans, and my fears are present in the labels’ dominion over star making, even as Willy indulges his fascination with the idea that someone like Jane could circumvent the capitalist patriarchy on raw talent alone. Both paths can lead to success. Hits can be pre-ordained by an industry; AND if something is going to catch fire, nothing can stop it.

But while both Jane and Willy can be right, I think it’s actually Jesse who nails it when, later in the conversation above, he tells Jane,

“All of it is arbitrary. Failure. Success. Who lives. Who dies . . . There’s no rhyme or reason to any of it.”

(I assume with this facial expression)

Jane eventually comes around to a softer version of this idea of randomness, and lands on a profound and peaceful thankfulness. I have to say, I wrote all this before I had any skin in the game myself, and now that I do,

it has never been so clear to me as it is now that now that no one owes us anything. Every pre-order, every blurb, every instagram post, is someone doing something they didn’t have to do. And the only response is total humility and gratitude.

So, it’s with gratitude and (bashful) excitement that I invite you to join me in these next few weeks leading up to on sale to just…see what happens. Fortunately, unlike Jane, I have an amazing team, and we’ve got some killer virtual events in the works, which I’m stoked to share. I’ve also been up to my old tricks and will have some bonafide Ursa Major merch for you soon, so look out for that as well. And mostly, I’m just happy to reconnect and say how much I appreciate all the support I’ve already received. As ever, I love hearing from you so, please don’t hesitate to drop me a line!

xx

PS. If you’re feeling kind, you can pre-order my tome! These early sales always help a new book find its footing and are very much appreciated.

.