I send my friend a card. She lost her mom recently. I give her lovely words to soothe and comfort her soul, but the truth is that is all they do, just comfort for a moment. The pain of loss sticks with ya, sticks ya in your ribs, sticks you in your pincushion heart. I want to actually tell her, you’re fucked. Things are never the same. But I don’t. I just try to comfort her.

I am not the same. I want to call my mom up on the astral plane telephone and say, what the hell lady, do you even know that you have complex and beautiful grandsons who are artists and creative wild things and they walk through the world without you. I want to tell her about their highs and lows and the people they love and how gorgeous they look. All of their glorious mistakes and beautiful changes.

When I was heavier, I had a bad habit of pulling at my shirt or clothing, an act of self-consciousness. I guessed if my shirt didn’t touch my fat, I looked thinner. Ludicrous. But also, just a habit, like sucking in my stomach. I don’t do this as much anymore but I have this strange feeling that my grief is like this lately. It stretches over my body like cling wrap and doesn’t fit well. I tug and stretch and feel constricted. Am I about to shed some of it. Have I regressed. Is this a pattern.

Someone at a party all drunk recently told me some shit about all of our cells regenerating every 7–10 years or something and that we were basically a whole new person. I ate celery and watched his lips move. Bullshit. We are still this person. Sure, some cells turn over and some atoms and bone tissue change, but bullshit. The girl listening beside me thought it was romantic. I kicked her shoe. The lens of your eye is the same one you were born with, I told her. The way we watch the world pass. The same lens we were born with. The same one I first looked at my mother’s face with. Boom, I was born and opened my eyes. The girl looked sad for a moment and then swigged her beer bottle. The annoying drunk turned to someone else and tried to be cool. I tugged at my dress. The persistence of attachment sucks. I wish the drunk were right. I wish I was a whole new person sometimes, someone more prepared for this walk through life.

ilysm

xo

Amy

I have some extra PR and I would love to gift on of my subs with it.
Just comment GLOW and you are entered.

CLEANSE! This is good and I am picky about cleansers. I love how it makes my skin feel after. I like how it feels smooth but not that squeaky clean dry feeling…

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-ATS

Here is a prompt for you.

Choose a fact about an animal or an insect.

Choose an emotion.

Press them together in whatever way feels right.

Read the poem to someone.

If your Google is broken, here are some ideas:

Hummingbirds are the only birds that can fly backwards / regret
Otters hold hands while sleeping so they don’t float away from each other / tenderness 
Starfish do not have a brain / love 
Koalas can sleep up to 22 hours a day / joy 
Only female mosquitoes bite / trust 
The Mayfly lives only 24 hours as an adult / sadness
The only mammal capable of true flight is the bat / fear

ilysm

be creative today xo

Amy

august is the horny month 
you know 
february frigid
with conversation hearts 
and limp gas station roses 
doesn’t hold a candle

to say perhaps 
southeastern Ohio 
the air all heavy and lush 
pregnant with green 

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All your lovers are in one room at sunset.

A stray cat follows you.

Ashtrays full of cigarettes show up on your porch.

The weight of your body on mine.

Describe heartbreak as a flavor.

My feminine and masculine meet up in a bar.

Describe the shape of rage in your hands, your mouth. What color is it? What does it taste l…

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He left us with some parting ideas that feel so good to carry into my current writing projects.

truth: what truths are you seeing in your projects?

beauty: how do you want to make the truth beautiful without sacrificing the truth?

work: what needs to be done now, this summer, this year?

These questions stick and remind me that writing is about living honestly with the stories we choose to tell.

Have a creative and groovy day.

ilysm

xo

Amy

Ok, tomorrow is the feral summer zoom, but I have to change it to 1pm ET.

Please come for prompts, chats and quiet work time.

FREE FOR SUBSCRIBERS <3

xo

Amy

THE NEW FERAL SUMMER ZOOM

Time: Jun 30, 2026 01:00 PM Eastern Time (US and Canada)

https://us02web.zoom.us/j/87986424645?pwd=SxaoR7x3SiqZs9bcB2QnJI4b3bTaxR.1

Hi bbs! I’ve started to share over on the socials something I carry around with me. You know I have a lot of notebooks, but I forgot that I have a Worship of Spectacular Women notebook, and you (all of us) could probably learn something from it or start your own. The scoop is that I always take it when I am in some sort of class, workshop, or learning experience, and I like to write down things smart women say. I used to get a ton of things from my work colleagues and always when I am in writing residencies and workshops. I most definitely get good advice when me and my friends are having kitchen happy hour too.

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@amyturnsharpFollow along while I try to age into a fierce and marvelous woman who I adore and become an angel of support for those who come next. ✨If I am being honest, the only people I listen to are women. ✨ #womensupportingwomen #womenpower #journaling #fyp #over50

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What I said on TikTok was:

Follow along while I try to age into a fierce and marvelous woman who I adore and become an angel of support for those who come next. If I am being honest, the only people I listen to are women. And I kind of mean it. I invite you to follow along and even create your own!

The genesis of this was:

Several years ago someone asked me what the best advice I had ever received was, and instantly I knew it was from Gloria Steinem in the 90s when she was speaking at Ohio University. Afterwards there was a Q&A, and my simple question standing in the auditorium facing the queen was:

“Hi, my name is Amy Turn, and I would just love any advice you have for me as a young woman.”

Gloria said: “Amy Turn, be a woman

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12pm-1pm ET.

Agenda:

10 minutes: hellos + lovely moments

10 minutes: warm up creative prompt

Solo work on projects (body doubling)

Sound good?

See you there.

xo

Amy

Subscribe now

LET’S ZOOM

Zoom from my messy house or studio.

Free! But paid subs get a summer treat from me!

Subscribe now

The biggest trap of a summer course is dreaming too big and burning out by week three, so we are chasing quick wins. Focus on a micro-project (or two) small enough to start and completely finish this summer. Finish a novel? Maybe not. Write a Modern Love essay? Yes! Write a whole essay collection or chapbook? No. Outline a book or write a book proposal? Yes! Zines, stories, or five amazing poems are all perfect. Let’s do things. Done is better than perfect anyway. Let’s do it wildly, together.

xo

Amy

Tuesdays! 12-1pm ET.
Zoom from my messy house or studio.

Subscribe now

I live in Ohio, and summers here can be very humid and icky, so my sunscreen game has to be a strong one as I use it daily. I cannot stand anything sticky. I prefer a sunscreen I can use in place of a foundation on days when my skin is looking its best.

NEW LOVERS

This is SO GREAT for reapplying!

And this IS MAGIC LIKE SUNSHINE SHIMMER MAGIC!

OLD LOVERS

This forever.

This too.

And if we’re talking about a 5-minute face, like hit the road babe, it’s sunny and fun out and we have no time for primping:

FACE

CHEEK

LIP

LIP

And for those hot summer nights where we wear a little on our bods and maybe more on our faces:

FACE

BOD

LIP

ALL OVER

CHEEK

BRONZE

EYES

EYES

Summer scents:

I like a couple things this year and one old lover.

NEW NEW OLDIE BUT GOLDIE

NAILS: Okay, a year ago or more I stopped getting my nails done at the salon. Now I use press-on nails when I feel the urge. They take a bit of a learning curve, but I love them.

THESE ARE THE BEST———> GLAMNETICS!

ALSO: Wondering about the new Rhode summer launch.

Will you try it? I am totes nuts for These and This

Anyways, I just wanted to share.
What about you? Summer beauty?

Wanna join ShopMy? Come on? You will like it! Here use this link!

ilysm

xo

Amy

Welcome to Feral Summer!

The biggest trap of a summer course is dreaming too big and burning out by week three, so we are chasing quick wins. Focus on a micro-project (or two) small enough to start and completely finish this summer. Finish a novel? Maybe not. Write a Modern Love essay? Yes! Write a whole essay collection or chapbook? No. Outline a book or write a book proposal? Yes! Zines, stories, or five amazing poems are all perfect. Let’s do things. Done is better than perfect anyway. Let’s do it wildly, together.

Free / Starts June 2. You do not have to attend all the Zooms (at least the first one?) and can do this solo too, with just check-ins with me if you want.

loose schedule:

Tuesdays! 12-1pm ET.

Zoom from my messy house or studio.

So between that and writing (got more published!), working on my book (got into a cool writer’s summer residency), and family, I am so behind. As in, my house looks like a tip and the boys (having them all under the small roof is a blast and AGHAST) freaked out last week after I cooked a Taco Tuesday feast, as I realized I had not cooked dinner in over a week. This is not Amy coded.

Anyway, my to-do list just keeps moving over to the next day and I am a mess but happy. Happy to move into a summer of staying in the mindset that I am moving in the right direction. Everything I am doing is keeping in motion the plans we have for our future. Big stuff coming. I gotta stay heads down and write and make money and keep a sweet heart. That seems doable for Summer ‘26.

I want to invite you to a free 8-week workshop-ish thing. Just be a paid subscriber. Think of it as some inspiration and some coaching. I wanna see us all thrive. And be wild.

Subscribe now

Welcome to Feral Summer!
The biggest trap of a summer course is dreaming too big and burning out by week three, so we are chasing quick wins. Focus on a micro-project (or two) small enough to start and completely finish this summer. Finish a novel? Maybe not. Write a Modern Love essay? Yes! Write a whole essay collection or chapbook? No. Outline a book or write a book proposal? Yes! Zines, stories, or five amazing poems are all perfect. Let’s do things. Done is better than perfect anyway. Let’s do it wildly, together.

Free / Starts June 2. You do not have to attend all the Zooms (at least one?) and can do this solo too, with just check-ins with me if you want.

loose schedule:

Tuesdays! 12-1pm ET.
Zoom from my messy house or studio.

‼️‼️Leave a comment on what you want to accomplish as your entry into the wild. I will send you a zoom link on 6/1.

PROMPT for you:

Write about a summer ritual you have.

@amyturnsharpAnd i like her so much ❤️✨ #aging #loveyou #selfcare #life #over50

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HEY LOCALS.

COME?

ilysm

xo

Amy

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Paid + free subs are getting a summer guide soon.

A summer guide to your creative mind.

PROMPTS

• Write about a fear you picked up from someone else.

• Write about a truth you learned too late to change anything.

• Write about someone you miss even though they’re still alive.

• Write a summer list. PLEASE. Let us have things to look forward to. <3

RECCOS

• Get ready or lounge in your house to this Spotify playlist. Or to this record. Or this one.

• Check out the girls section at Zara. This. This. This. Adorable. Tiny. Treasures.

This perfume. Maybe. I can’t decide it I love it or not. I do however love Soleil Blanc!!! Smells like summer. Also, the Amber is SEX. Get samples. So pricey!

Just buy it. Trust.

This sauce on everything.

Everyone on TT is talking about this Chanel water foundation. It may be good, but the Water-Fresh complexion stuff in the same line IS great! I love it for summer.

Butter Yellow. The color of the moment. It calms me.

Also, excited for this:

I hope to be back to myself this weekend. See you soon.

ilysm

xo

Amy

I NEED BOOK RECOMMENDATIONS <3

Make it your writing prompt for the day.

I was reading about fashion, about Mary Quant actually, and thinking about miniskirts and how my legs don’t look the same as they used to. And then I was thinking about how I told someone 10 years ago I wouldn’t be caught dead in a crop top and yet I was wearing a silly little crop top yesterday. It was comfortable. It felt like I don’t give a fuck.

So here we are. Everything looks different but feels the same.

ilysm

xo

Amy

I hope you are doing ok. That you are able to find joy and love today. We are here for that you know. Not all of my little stories are weird or sweet. I just keep writing them down. When you leave me a comment, I am so happy here in my house. My face lights up.

ilysm

xo

Amy

Subscribe now

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The trick is to not be afraid.
The trick is to be open to everything appearing.
Let it in.

Things I poured into my well of light this week:

• Lots of poetry and having the chance to read at Streetlight Guild. Oh how I love Scott Woods and I found a new favorite poet: Julia Kolchinsky

• Watched Selwyn Birchwood play and WOW.

• Went to the art museum with my love. Just sat in the cafe and wrote for two hours. Glorious. Bought a new pen. They have a cheeseburger happy hour, btw.

• Read old zines I have made over the years. I have a new one in my head.

• Reading books: Edinburgh by Alexander Chee and The Best of Brevity: Twenty Groundbreaking Years of Flash Nonfiction by Zoe Bossiere & Dinty W. Moore

ilysm

tell me things

xo

Amy

One more funny thing is I can tell the age of folks by those who get what I shared on Threads and notes last week. <3

Leave a comment

It’s no secret that I am depressed. I mean, to my people. The world is like, ATS you are so inspiring and weird and I bet you are fun at happy hour. The truth is, I am those things, but this winterspring has been rough. Medical stuff, kid stuff, trying to make a creative life work without going back to corporate. All that shit be rough. I am however lucky and fortunate and I feel that if I don’t say those things aloud at least 5 times a day, I am an asshole. Anyways, the only thing I have been succeeding at is writing, or I mean keeping a practice, and that is fucking feeling good. I have been taking classes and working diligently on several projects. I found this old play on my computer and I thought I would share a slice of today. I am not working on it but I may pick it back up and try to get my friends to perform it this summer at a backyard party.

small excerpt from the play:

CUT TO:

EXT. CHESTNUT STREET NIGHT

They tumble out of an Uber. She’s already pulling her phone out of his hand.

WOMAN

Put your phone away and let’s pretend it’s the 90s.

She grabs the hem of her dress and pulls it up over her head on the sidewalk. Like a toddler. Like someone for whom embarrassment is a foreign country.

He bends at the waist and laughs and laughs.

CUT TO:

INT. NEIGHBORHOOD BAR CONTINUOUS

WOMAN

Did you know that the average mid-life crisis lasts about 3 to 10 years for men and 2 to 5 years for women?

(cheerfully)

You’re screwed. I will be better soon. Give me another year.

He puts his hand up to his face like he’s horrified. Shakes his head.

MAN

I want to be with you.

WOMAN

It’s well documented that in the middle of life everyone goes crazy. You have made me crazy.

MAN

I want to kiss you and shake you at the same time sometimes.

WOMAN

It’s like this, basically no one knows what they are doing. So, they fake it. And none of that crap your guidance counselor told you back then, fake it till you make it, that’s not true.

(accelerating)

It’s really not. You are actually faking it. All of it. Work. Life. Love. Parenthood. And then one day, around 40 years old, that’s about 14,600 days of faking it, you just give up. You give in. You come home to your fraud.

(raising her glass)

We are fraudsters.

MAN

Yeah. You’re probably right. You are righter than anyone I have ever known.

He puts his fingers on her cheek, right at the temple. Something shifts in her face.

MAN (CONT’D)

Where have you been?

WOMAN

(quietly, and she means it)

You are my watershed. I have always wanted to say that and fucking mean it.

Beat. The bar hums around them.

WOMAN (CONT’D)

I want you to sing 90s songs to me in my ear. No. Just the lyrics. Whispered.

MAN

Ok. Ok, you crazy woman.

He leans into her ear. He licks her neck. He whispers. We can’t hear the words but we can see her face change, her eyes close, her chin lifts, her throat makes a noise.

WOMAN

(barely audible)

You make me live in the minor key, baby.

MAN

Come on. Come on. Just love me. Right now.

WOMAN

Maybe forever. It might not be that long. We could be dead soon.

(a beat)

Sorry.

He laughs. She doesn’t.

WOMAN (CONT’D)

Did you know that barn owls can will themselves to death after their mate dies?

(looking at him straight)

Maybe I was put here on earth to give you this. Maybe this is the only time in your life you would be able to take it.

(small smile)

I’m a portal.

MAN

Stop with the truth. Come here.

He holds out his arms. She looks at them.

*******

Yeah, so I will make my friends perform plays one night. I want to have so many parties where people are all together and we are laughing and connected. That is so helpful for this human. I have 3 ideas so far:

Summer Drunk Stock: We all write and perform plays. FUN. Or monologues. OMG imagine memorizing this one from True Romance and NAILING IT on a hot ass July night with all your friends around you?

Bard Night: We all come with one poem memorized and there is a mic and we all hear these amazing poems. You can’t get in the backyard without a poem in your pocket. There will be good food.

Shit Exchange: We all bring stuff from our houses that we don’t need or want and just put it all out on blankets in the backyard and share. Anything not wanted gets taken that NIGHT to the Goodwill donation center down the street and we party.

Share

*******

Depression Hacks

I hate those bitches on TikTok or Instagram who tell you how to do things. Like all you have to do is just make this a part of your day. They are annoying with their creatine and matching Alo sets and wealth. But not all of them are annoying I guess, and I do screenshot shit that makes some sort of sense or interests me. So, here are three depression hacks I have saved.

THE SUN WITHIN AN HOUR OF WAKING
It is really true, and it helps, and I also think those lamps help. I have been trying to stand in an Ohio sun when I see it, and when I take Winifred out in the morning to potty, if there is sun I will stand there like a cat. My dog will run around and I am a cat. I am not sure how much lazier a person could be, but I am that person. I own two fucking happy lights and I can’t use them properly. I am going to put one beside my bed today because you guys, Ohio is not very sunny all the time right now.

I need more. Light. Sun. Lately I have taken over the room in our house I call the hostel room. For the kids and girlfriends. It has a big ass desk, a dresser and a queen/twin bunk bed. It is cave-like with thick curtains and I am a writing machine in there but pale, so pale. I think I will put self-tanner on soon and open the curtains, because in this 130+ year old house there are several rooms with old wooden windows that are painted shut and even though I have lived here so long, they just don’t open. I am not strong enough. No one is.

JUST NOT REPLYING RIGHT AWAY.
Like, you are not a machine. I feel so badly but sometimes I need a break from the constant connection. Ever feel this way? I put a batch of prewritten and lovely responses in my notes app and I just toss them out. Those who love me get it.

Hey, can’t connect right now but I love you and talk soon
Can we chat later?
Sorry I am off the grid today, talk tomorrow xo
Get back to you soon, hope you are great xo
You are so amazing and I am in a small hole. I will dig out and connect soon.
Email me. I will get back to you because I am trying to throw my phone into other rooms a lot.

PROTECTING YOUR TINY RESERVES.
I am depleted of mental energy so I am just eating kinda the same things (make a simple meal list menu on Sundays) and wearing athleisure and saying no. A lot.

Yeah, so that is that.

*******

Here are few things that are good and lovely

• Maggie’s book. God. Yes.

• The book coming to me on April 14

• Planning a Substack get together this summer in Columbus, along with a literary salon dinner night.

• Finishing a hybrid memoir class tonight with Marinanne Manzler.
  It was rigorous and fabulous. Highly recommend her.

• Taking a mini memoir workshop with Danielle Henderson.
  Powerful and authentic and honest. I love her. Helpful. You should take her classes.

• Thinking about planting flowers. Chaos gardening.

• Reading at Streetlight Guild on 4/9 with Julia Kolchinsky

• Teaching a class at the Thurber House next week

• Keith got his record picked up by a cool label. PROUD!

• New prints out all month. (prices go up unfortunately this summer)

• Our doggie turned 2. Saint Winifred Cheeseburger Turn Sharp Hanlon! We love her so much.

• All Thing Must Pass record by George Harrison on repeat. My favorite Beatle. Fight me.
  

• The new and fantastic practice of giving myself grace. Still a novice, but trying.

  ilysm
  Xo
  Amy

If you have the means and want to support my newsletter, I promise to give you things. Treats are getting mailed out this week to my founding members and I am planning on giving paid subs a free workshop in May and I think pretty much each Monday I am going to collaborate with my friend on a body doubling two-hour block of time. Deets soon.

& tomorrow is the next weird podcast that last two minutes. :)

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On not going to moms weekend

You go to my college, it’s mine not yours. Do you haunt the same streets, bars? The same desire paths worn down between buildings, those heavy dorm doors.

***

I don’t like it that you have a fake ID. Your face all smiling and cute. Mom, you have to chill, it’s no big deal. He is like me. Always everywhere all at once. A thick layer of invisible skin. It is smooth and glows.

***

The cosplay of adulthood, God you are 18 years old. Your frontal cortex is still a baby crying wah wah wah.

***

The cops were bullshit back then, probably are now too. They moved slowly, watched us walk up the street with short corduroy skirts and thigh-high socks. Pigs. Then they got out on those giant horses in the brick streets. Disorderly boys got in trouble, we got whistles.

***

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