In which Sophie talks about writing a book
And shows you some of her most recent one, as a means of promotion, but also, let's hope, emotional vulnerability.
If this is your first time here, take note: this is an atypical newsletter! I have never written one like this before and I never will again.
This is just a note.
Dear Friend,
Well, so, it’s time for me to write an email all about my forthcoming book, “Dear Sophie, Love Sophie.” I was assured by my publisher (and others) that you wouldn’t get mad at me for doing this, but how interesting that I’ve been a little bit dreading writing this particular email, whereas it isn’t much about you, and our whole thing is that we talk about you. (But hey, let’s be real: I do a fair amount of talking about me most of the time, too.)
What’s terrifying about putting out a memoir (or maybe any book!) is that you are basically ripping an organ out of your body and shoving it into the light and begging people to spend time with it. You imagine the people saying, “Why should I care about this stinky foreign organ? It’s not even MY organ! I don’t give two figs about your light-hogging organ!” But you do it because 1) you care about this organ; and 2) you have a feeling that maybe someone else out there also has an organ like yours and that it feels good to see yourself in someone else’s organ because it makes you feel less lonely. The organ metaphor broke down a while ago, but basically I mean: it’s scary and rhetorically bloody.
I got the idea for this book after writing this essay for LongReads, which originated after I got an email from someone currently attending my alma mater college. The email said that they’d found one of my old diaries in a house I used to live in! And they had been reading it out loud at their house dinners. They figured out it was mine (even though I didn’t sign my entries) because I had taped a photo of my high school self inside the diary, and my headshot was up on campus, as I just happened to be doing a reading there in the coming months. So they invited me to get my diary back, and to maybe read a little of it out loud. Which I did, and it was magical, and what a good story, right?
And someone at Random House showed some interest in the Longreads article, so I tried to think about how it could be a whole book, and was reminded of a project I did a few years ago where I wrote back to some of my old diary entries in blog format. They’re a little cringey to read back, but hey, there was a concept there, I thought! And then I imagined what it would be like to get to read a curated collection of someone else’s diaries, and if there could be some way to learn something from that, too — well, hey, that would be a book I would really like! Random House passed; but Harper Collins was willing to take the journey with me (thank you, Harper One!!!), and all nighters were pulled and tears were shed and over 100 pages were cut and drafts were blown up and more than two years later, this book is coming out into the world in less than a week. Which… I can’t even with that!
So in this newsletter, I’m going to share with you a whole chapter from the book, so you can see what it looks like; I’m also going to share with you a chapter that got cut a looooong time ago, which is something almost no one else has ever gotten to see; and I’m going to plead with you to either pre-order it or maybe show it some love on social media come pub day or come out to an event and win it or do none of those things. When I tell you that this took me hundreds and hundreds of hours, I’m not exaggerating at all. I am a slow drawer, that’s true; but I also wanted it to be special for you. I hoped it would feel like an act of love. I wanted you to get some ideas for getting to know (and getting to love) yourself, even as I am still struggling through that journey.
This was very earnest. I feel uncomfortable with that, so: egg. (I feel like “egg,” just as a word, can generally diffuse sentimentality.)
Thank you for your time. We’ll be back with our regularly scheduled content next week.
Love,
Sophie
But as for new parenthood…
If you show up just to hear about new parenthood, well, uh, THANK YOU, first of all. And, in the spirit of journaling, here is an uncensored excerpt from my T Diary, which I update for myself about once a week, and for her, maybe, someday, if she wants it:
She still sleeps on my chest and I try to be present with that because I know it won’t last forever. But it’s wonderful when it happens. Putting away clothes that don’t fit her anymore can feel so sad, because there were times when those clothes were too big and it seemed like it would be eons until she’d fit into them. Now SHE is too big, and some of the prettiest, sweetest little outfits have to go into storage. I’ll keep my favorite things, but everything else will get passed along, of course. She gets along with the nanny and she does all the things babies are supposed to do. She is the best thing in my life right now, by far; the steadiest thing.
A WHOLE CHAPTER from my book!
A WHOLE CHAPTER that was ultimately totally trashed!
Here is a chapter that was totally rejected and of which no part is included in the final book. I mean that: in no way, shape, or form is any of this in there. This was back when this book was supposed to be a YA book, and it ultimately ended up being a general-A book, which you can be sure about because I drew PENISES AND VAGINAS in it. That’s right. Uncensored penises. And vaginas. Two each. Not putting those here; you’ll have to buy the book to see these genitals.
I did spend some amount of time making a thing for people who pre-order this book (it’s a guided journal!), so please pre-order it and sign up to receive this set of charming PDFs that I can’t give to anyone except the people who do this nice thing for the book.
Events.
I have three events coming up:
Poor Random House. Smart Harpers! Lucky US!