“You know, they straightened out the Mississippi River in places, to make room for houses and visible acreage. Occasionally the river floods these places. ‘Floods’ is the word they use, but in fact it is not flooding; it is remembering. Remembering where it used to be. All water has a perfect memory and is forever trying to get back to where it was. Writers are like that: remembering where we were, what valley we ran through, what the banks were like, the light that was there and the route back to our original place.” — Toni Morrison, The Site of Memory (1987)

In July 2026, I worked more than 106 hours at my day job and wrote 21,000 words. I have more projects in my back pocket than I know what to do with, but I haven’t slowed down since June 2025: a full calendar year, which does not take into account moving to Brooklyn and establishing a new life for myself in the city, fresh out of grad school with a brand new job. Productivity is my vice; I believe this is true for most writers pursuing a career in traditional publishing.

See, I grew up reading a lot of publishing advice essays from the late 2010’s. Many of those career authors believed that the best thing to do after finishing a book was to start working on a new one. Obviously, it’s a piece of advice I’ve taken to heart: as soon as one project ends, another begins.

Within my July writing, I finished a skeleton draft1 of a queer romantasy project, pitched a dark sapphic romance as my potential second book, and have started reviewing pass pages for my debut gothic fantasy, THE LAST NECROMANCER OF MARNE HALL.

I usually write a lot about the magic of “refilling the well” from the perspective of circling back to being more productive. That’s not what I’m interested in here. Rest for rest’s sake feels different than rest for future achievement, which is simply another stop in the same toxic productivity cycle.

I, like many modern writers, balance an ongoing social media presence with tireless work on my actual novels. I am pushed to do both because I fear falling into irrelevancy. It’s also made me extremely disconnected from my everyday life. It is a variation of imposter syndrome that runs so deep, I feel as if I am even an impostor at having impostor syndrome. Frankly speaking: this is the most successful I’ve ever been in my life and it is the most I’ve ever felt like a hopeless fucking loser with no future.

Enter mid-July: I am visiting one of my best friends in San Diego. It is peak summer; I am tanned deep bronze with a sunburn on my lip, writing in a cafe. I finish the skeleton draft of my romantasy and realize that this achievement feels very, very hollow. I also realize that I am exhausted. I wonder if I am actually being productive, or if I am just mindlessly miming productivity because I’d been advised by many “tradpub advice posts” that keeping busy is what I am supposed to be doing.

Instead, I decide to sit still. I want to spend time wandering, aimlessly, doing nothing productive outside of my day job (because a girl still needs to pay her bills).

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I have found The Vampire Lestat/IWTV S3 to be perplexing. There are emotionally resonant scenes that I’ve deeply enjoyed and returned to, like Montreal’s (E6) car ride with Louis and Lestat, or Armand and Daniel in the bowling alley in The Devil’s Road (E4). For the most part, I am underwhelmed. This is primarily because the season is more focused on spectacle than narrative.

What I mean by this: spectacle is the Michael Bay explosion that immediately feeds your dopamine receptors but leaves you with very little to think on after the light has faded. Narrative, however, is story. Narrative is a meaningful change in character or situation. Narrative is heartbreak, rage, ecstasy, feeling, sensuality. Narrative is the fat that keeps you chewing. It is inherently haunting. Good storytelling, regardless of medium, usually engages in a balance of both.

The Vampire Lestat is a season of spectacle without narrative.

To be fair: Anne Rice is not an easy writer to adapt! Her books are sweeping at best and convoluted at worst. I was—and still am!—deeply impressed by what the early seasons were able to accomplish based on her work, creating a very deep and resonant tale about romance, marginalization, and power. I do not expect an adaptation to be a perfect recreation of its source material. I do expect it to be thoughtful in its changes.

This season is supposedly an adaptation of both The Vampire Lestat and Queen of the Damned, but falls short in both departments, drawing very little from the source material and instead inventing weaker plot elements. This season already has a very tall order: to make us fall in love with Lestat, a character who has been quite antagonistic. To accomplish this, the viewer has to see Lestat as complex. In the books, it is his relationship with the people he loves, especially Gabrielle and Nicki, that softens him. In the show, his pivotal relationships with not only these characters, but basically everyone on screen, has been shortened, simplified, or entirely distorted.

A good story features a sequence of traceable cause-and-effect. It should build upon itself: because of what happens in act one, we are led into act two, which then causes us to fall into act three, and so on. But this is not a “because” season. This is an “and then” season, in which events stumble after each other with no regard for sequence. Scenes are spliced haphazardly, especially in New York (Episode Five), where we zoom from Daniel and Armand in the park, to Lestat recording with his band, back to the past with Marius and Akasha, and then to Louis. What is the string tying all of these together? Things happen next simply because it would be cool to see on screen, and the plot needed something to happen next anyway.

I don’t mean to be harsh: TVL hints at a larger story, but its frantic pacing never gives a narrative enough space to grow. The scenes we see are not the most pivotal moments, but the inconsequential space in between. I find it a strange narrative decision to prioritize telling instead of showing. [In episode five, we are told that Lestat’s band has broken up, flippantly casting away characters like Christine and Dee, who I assumed would grow to have some narrative significance given their screentime.]

These kinds of spectacle shows often end up in very difficult places by the finale. It’s the reason why the Long Table feels convoluted and rambly: the hour-long word-vomit feels pointless because it lacks the necessary story scaffolding to hold it up. Endings exist to wrap things up, but TVL struggles because there was no meaningful change from one episode to another that warranted an ending. There were…scenes. And so, what could a finale be but another scene?

I am confused about how a story that adapts Anne Rice’s work ended up missing an emotional core. For a franchise that is built on deep, complex feelings, this season aches with emptiness. TVL struggles to develop an identity because of this, instead reminding the viewer of the highs reached by its previous seasons and expecting their nostalgia to blind them. Unfortunately, the most it has to offer is a vapid rockstar aesthetic that feels like a Pinterest board I would’ve put together at seventeen. [The recurring theme of “the failures” is a little too on the nose even for me. I winced, often, at how unconfident this season comes across.]

What is indisputable is the cast’s ability to elevate a rather bland script into something fun to watch. Getting to see Jacob Anderson on screen is especially a treat, and Assad Zaman is hypnotic. Because of this, I am confused by this season’s resentment toward its predecessors, from the insensitive racist jokes to the humbling of its characters of color. At times, it feels almost like the showrunners are literally looking into the camera and blowing raspberries at people who enjoyed the earlier episodes. It is a strange creative decision to make, biting the hand that feeds you?

How do you hold contempt for the very past that makes your current work interesting? Is it because you know you lack the skill to surpass it?

Perhaps the showrunners were hoping to bring in a new, predominantly white, fanbase? The limited queerness depicted in this season implies to me that they were hoping to reach a broader (read: straight) audience. Overall, the season feels clumsy (there are multiple scenes in which characters just info dump at each other) and directionless (Armand getting to be the emotional core of the finale of the season focused on Lestat? I am and always have been an Armand stan, but that is objectively confusing to me).

Still, I will, however, continue to talk about and critique this show because I love this story and these characters. And what is the point of engaging with art if you’re not allowed to do so with your brain on?

As a writer myself, I understand that sometimes creative decisions are made not because of intent but because of circumstance. Budget cuts, for one, I know were relevant here. But I am confused by the decision to let go of a lot of staff and replace them with songwriters. At night, I find myself awake and wondering: did we really need twenty original songs?

During the final episode of The Vampire Lestat: After Dark, executive producer Hannah Moschowitz mentions that showrunner Rolin Jones does not like stories about identity, which may just answer every question a fan could have about this season. The finale was always bound to be weak. You cannot wrap up a story you haven’t told.

“I think there is a necessity to be still sometimes and let life happen to you, to let your manner of being in the world be changed by what happens to you so that you will have a different self out of which to write.” — Louise Glück

It’s Autumn 2025. I’m late to my friend’s book launch because of my day job. My final session runs overtime, so I miss the bookstore launch and barely make it to the dinner afterwards. I’m fresh to New York City. I spend the whole journey nervous about transferring to the right train at the right station.

I sit next to an acquaintance at the restaurant, so we catch up on various publishing news. My debut novel, NECROGENESIS (2027), has been announced. Our debuts are about two years apart from each other: I haven’t started to experience Debut Anxiety, but she’s on her way out of it.

We talk about how NECRO has been delayed by a year, but I shrug about it. Traditional publishing is unpredictable; I don’t think I can take it personally. Besides, I am more emotionally invested in the sci-fi thriller I’ve been wrestling with. My conversation partner is surprised that I’ve been able to write while going through the tradpub debut meat grinder. I mention that I see writing and publishing as two very different processes.

“You have such a healthy relationship with publishing,” she says. Those words stick with me because that has not always been the case. There was a time when I would’ve torn my own hair out at the follicles over my book being delayed. I do, finally, have a healthy relationship with publishing—and with identifying as a writer. It has taken half of my lifetime to develop it.

“Thought daughter” is one of those Gen-Z terms that encapsulates both an aesthetic and a personality type. It’s meant to make you imagine what sort of person a woman is. Yet another phrase with its origins in Black Twitter—where the “gay son or thot daughter” meme originates—it reinterprets the spelling of the first word in the phrase “thot daughter” to represent a more literal interpretation of the phrase.

A “thought daughter” is someone well-read and intelligent. She enjoys writing or, at the very least, philosophizing. (This is often performed online.) She probably owns a few leather-bound journals and an ink pen, thoughtfully sips hot ceramic mugs of coffee, and enjoys flatlays with books, vintage photographs, and lace. But there is, beneath the visual appeal, an assumption of separation. Behind the intellectualism and aesthetics, the “thought daughter” is often misunderstood. In this way, the thought daughter is ultimately isolated. Perhaps even lonely.

I hope I am not coming across as judgmental: if I had to pick an internet term to describe myself, it’d be this one. I spent most of my life thinking of myself as a writer and an intellectual. I was uninterested in developing my personal identity outside of that.

I started writing when I was very young, young enough that I can’t really remember (probably around nine?), and never really stopped. “Writer” was the identity I used to define myself. I imagined it made me special. I guess it did, in a way. It explained away all those lonely nights I spent in my room, uninvited to social events: my loneliness didn’t matter if I was busy writing, philosophizing, making myself too grand for underage drinking in random people’s basements. But living in my head made me feel distant from my own life.

Erik Erikson’s stages of psychosocial development posit that the central conflict of adolescence is identity versus role confusion. It is the task of finding your place in the world. For many of us, “writer” resolves that conflict entirely. I did not feel the need to build anything on top of it.

In an essay titled (Woman) Writer: Theory and Practice, Joyce Carol Oates perfectly illustrated the distance I held from myself and my sense of self. Sexism is the focus of this particular essay, but I had a slightly different takeaway. Particularly, this line: “In the practice of her craft, she [the woman writer] may well become bodiless and invisible, defined to herself fundamentally as what she thinks, dreams, plots, constructs.” Reading this, I recognized myself with an embarrassing degree of precision.

But what happens to your identity when “writer” starts to feel unstable? When you submit work and are rejected, when the manuscript you spent years on ends up in a drawer, when someone else publishes the book you kept meaning to finish? There is a kind of ego death in that.

The problem with letting one identity do all the work is that it is too fragile to carry the weight. I am a writer, yes. But I am also a daughter, a friend, a student of life, an employee, a very bad ceramist, an even worse practitioner of yoga. To whittle myself down to one category is a disservice to myself. And, I imagine, a disservice to any other writer reading this as well.

What I’ve learned (slowly, reluctantly, in the way you learn most useful things) is that writing requires living. If there is no living, there is no useful, interesting writing. You cannot regurgitate the same phrases into the public sphere and expect to be rewarded. There needs to be a perspective worth hearing. And by “worth hearing,” I don’t mean good, or better, or insightful, or even relevant. Simply different. Simply not boring.

Honestly, I’d rather listen to someone be originally wrong than to hear them repeat the “correct” overused talking points.

This is the part that the seventeen-year-old version of me did not understand. She thought that the identity of a writer conferred the ability to write well. That, by spending enough time alone in a dim room with a paper lantern and a hot chocolate, she would eventually produce something true.

But you have to leave the room.

The 2020s are a recycled decade. Everything is a remix, a remake, a facade of whatever original thing we were attempting to embody a century ago. Most media feels like the end of a game of telephone — how many times can you reference something that references something else that references some bygone thing before the soul has been diluted? Is there any meaning left at all?

You can get away with not having anything new to say right now. It’s what we’re used to. But I don’t think “standard” or “average” means “a norm that should continue”. We could keep remaking the same movies a hundred times over, claim there’s nothing new under the sun, and use that as justification for revisiting the same stories on a loop, for using holograms to bring pop stars back from the dead for one more tour. Or we could do what art has always been meant to do: make meaning out of the meaningless. Make something real, perhaps even something true.

I won’t pretend to be above the modern age: I drink whatever the trendy drink of the season is, I put together outfits based on what I saw on Pinterest, and I hunt for TikTok-viral lip stains in Sephora. I am a daughter of the modern age. But I also think balance is important. I am hungry for reality. Specifically, the messy, dirty, complicated sort that only exists outside of a screen.

In good writing, you are advised against using metaphors that have lost their meaning. Phrases like “ice cold” or “at the speed of light” have become intangible. The best way to combat them is to be creative, to be strange. It is for this reason that I want to urge other writers toward rediscovering tangibility.

It’s safe to write a story1 filled with tropes and opinions others have already invented. You don’t have to risk being seen, or rejected, or disliked. But memorable art takes risks. You have to trust that your individual perspective is compelling enough to share. You have to believe that you will be forgiven for your flaws. Most importantly, you have to answer the question: why are you, specifically, writing this story? Why shouldn’t I go read someone else’s work? What unique thing do you bring to the table? (There are always answers to these questions!)

That is the “healthy relationship” to seek out. Not just with traditional publishing, but with the life that makes publishing novels worth anything at all. The teen version of me thought “writer” was the label, but I now understand that my identites, opinions and experiences inform the writing in a way that cannot be underestimated. It isn’t about being right, it’s about trying to say something to begin with. I need to be bad at pottery, to laugh too loud at restaurants, to get lost on the subway, to live, and to fail, and to know I exist outside of the words I write down.

That is what it means to “live in service of the work”. You live in service of having something to say. You go out, you fall down, you accidentally scrape your knees on the concrete. Then you return to your laptop and describe how it feels to have rocks stuck in your flesh.

“And that is why I believe those hollow crisps on the bathroom floor are moths. I think I know moths, and fragments of moths, and chips and tatters of utterly empty moths, in any state. How many of you, I asked the people in my class, which of you want to give your lives and be writers? […] All hands rose to the question. And then I tried to tell them what the choice must mean: you can’t be anything else. You must go at your life with a broadax . . . They had no idea what I was saying.” —Annie Dillard, The Death of the Moth

Continued reading on this topic:

• Developing creative identity by Michael Nielsen. I rolled my eyes about the bit about Stephen King not having written anything good—his sustaining influence on pop culture begs to differ—but thought-provoking writing isn’t always writing you agree with, it’s writing that prompts you to think!

• Writing is thinking: on the value of human-generated scientific writing in the age of large language models. Focused on scientific writing, but the crossover is obvious: “Nevertheless, outsourcing the entire writing process to LLMs may deprive us of the opportunity to reflect on our field and engage in the creative, essential task of shaping research findings into a compelling narrative — a skill that is certainly important beyond scholarly writing and publishing.”

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recommendations.

BOOKS:

1. Regarding the Pain of Others by Susan Sontag. I am slowly making my way through Sontag’s books. This one felt timely; Sontag talks about how modern life creates distance from atrocities that are inescapable for others. Obviously, this book was written before the age of social media, but its conversation about the impact of images translates well.

2. Honeysuckle by Bar Fridman-Tell is a recent gothic horror release on my TBR. The story follows a boy and his friend, a girl made of flowers, and the complicated relationship that blooms between them. The cover caught my attention, but I was absolutely hooked by its “feminist Frankenstein” description.

3. Another pull from my TBR is Black in Blues by Imani Perry, which connects the color blue through African American history. It seems to be an exploration of blue as a color, as well as sadness and grief. The concept made me think of the titular line from Moonlight, "In moonlight, black boys look blue.”

4. Next is a 2013 republishing of a 2002 novel: Lee and Elaine by Ann Rower, featuring an introduction by Jessica Ferri. The narrator becomes obsessed with the lives and friendship of Lee Krasner and Elaine de Kooning, two artists and wives of famous men. It’s described as an “original examination of sexuality and friendship, art and ambition.” From what I understand, it gets gay. Yay!

5. Wild Reverence by Rebecca Ross. I missed the Divine Rivals boat, but this concept compels me. I love a mortal/god romance, and this one focuses on a goddess and a mortal man. There’s also apparently political intrigue between both the humans and the gods? Messy. It boasts an insanely high Goodreads score of nearly 5 stars and almost 60k reviews, so I’m excited to see what’s going on here.

6. If you come to me for book recs, you’re getting sapphic recommendations. Hope you’re not burnt out on that yet, because here’s one more for you: Sweetbitter Song by Rosie Hewlett! It’s a sapphic retelling of The Odyssey. I know Greek retellings are solidly out amongst most readers, but I am nothing if not uncool.

OTHER MEDIA:

1. I recently had a blast watching Excalibur (1981). By that I mean I spent most of my watch saying “you can’t be serious” which, to me, is very fun. I don’t have a ton of experience with Arthurian legend, but this film moves at a clip (and provides enough infodumping) to carry any viewer along. The cinematography is gorgeous, and the Lancelot/Guinevere subplot made me cry.

2. For music, I’d like to offer Willow’s new album, petal rock black. It’s bouncy, moody, and experimental, but smooth. The whole thing blends into a trancelike state. I like play, not a fantasy, and holy mystery the most!

3. The Ugly Stepsister. A horror film about Cinderella from the perspective of the ugly stepsister is as close to spring theming as I get, I suppose. Something about this movie reminded me of The Love Witch but I’m unsure why.

4. Perhaps more apt for spring is the new hemlocke springs album. Titled, “the apple tree under the sea”, these songs are bouncy and energetic—perfect for waking up for spring! hemlocke is one of the most interesting modern artists, IMO, especially “head, shoulders, knees, and ankles”.

5. Podcast time! I enjoyed this episode of Dialectic featuring Celine Nguyen. I love hearing Celine Nguyen’s thoughts on literature, creative discipline, and philosophy. It’s fun to listen to people chat thoughtfully about complex topics!

6. Finally, I enjoy basically everything on Siobhan Brier Aguilar’s YouTube channel, but I fell into the rabbit hole of “I read Elizabeth Gilbert's new book about her plot to k*ll her gf so you don't have to.” Self-explanatory.

LIFESTYLE:

13. I am on the hunt for a 5 Year Hobonichi Techo Journal! I’ve kept a journal consistently for most of my life, but I’ve never had an opportunity to see multiple days on the same page. The concept is very unique. I have to track one down.

14. Ballet flats are in! I am a simple girl who loves a trend! I’m a fan of the current “shoes adding a pop of color to a monochromatic outfit” thing, so I’ve been eying these.

15. I ordered a Kaweco fountain pen as my first fountain pen! I do not need to collect more stationery, and yet here I am—and now I’m trying to convince you to do the same. Shameless!

16. I’ve been eating a lot of loaded salads with fruity dressing. We have Sweetgreen at home! I’ve been taking a spring mix blend and filling it with chicken, cranberries, cucumbers, carrots, red onion, and celery.

17. Another fashion pull is UNIQLO’s new barrel pants. I love a tiny top/giant pant situation. I will be wearing these in all the seasons, they look soooo good, thank you very much.

18. Sorry to give two food recs in one post, but I simply must include this recipe for chicken breast with brown sugar and paprika.

where to find me.

Website: ashiamonet.com

X/Twitter: @ashiamonet

Tiktok and Instagram: @ashiawrites

Transparently, these things happen a lot in publishing! Because I do not have any control over when my book comes out, you may just have to send your complaints up to god, because the situation is quite certainly above me.

The good news is that I will continue to give you updates as things roll along for my strange, gothic fantasy horror novel. We’re rolling into final edits, so I hope to have some other news soon, especially on fun things like cover reveals and blurbs and various other promo items.

“I am flowing again—I have lost my fears, my anguishes. I have multiple desires, curiosities, interests. I can be everywhere.”

Anais Nin, Mirages: The Unexpurgated Diary of Anais Nin, 1939-1947

Every year since 2019, I have read over fifty books per year. 2025 was the last year I did this.

In my early twenties, I was voracious. Fifty books per year was the best way to feed myself. I was a full-time student with an eagerness to learn. My days were spent getting to know myself and the world. I’d just discovered my love for literary fiction and memoirs, so my reading taste was eclectic: I had a line of books on my apartment windowsill, the view overlooking the Philadelphia skyline. You could find everything from James Baldwin to Anne Rice to Kazuo Ishiguro.

I’d wake up in pastel pink sheets (I was obsessed with pink at the time) to soft morning light. I’d read for hours, ignoring texts from my friends until the early afternoon, which was usually when I remembered that I was a real person. I never wanted to change. I thought, I am going to stay this way forever, because I have always been stubborn and naïve.

My life has taken on a different hue. As a debut novelist and a working professional, I am a very active participant in my life. I am settling into a new city, tending to friendships both new and old, nurturing a new romantic relationship. If I am not socializing in my free time, I am exploring, or hurriedly trying to wash my laundry and remember to cook something for dinner.

I usually fall behind on my fifty-books-per-year goal, but I don’t feel like I’m not reading enough. In fact, speeding up my reading would cheapen it. In my (limited) free time, I tend to read classics and literary fiction. When I read within the genre I write in, I like books that have a literary quality, as that is often what I try to evoke in my own work. These are books that I want to linger with, think about long after I’ve finished. They are books I enjoy chewing on.

I realized it quite suddenly one evening when, after work, I just wanted to eat, shower, and head to bed early. I had two options: contort myself to fit a goal that I’d made during an entirely different phase of my life or change my goal to fit this new phase of my life.

I immediately decided to lower my reading goal.

We are in an era of overconsumption, especially in media. The average American spends about five hours a day on their phones—for my generation, Gen Z, that number jumps up to six and a half hours. Seventy-nine percent of that phone usage is spent on social media, a world in which attention is the most valuable currency. Literally.

Therefore, it makes sense that most of the internet is trying to capitalize on your attention. Your eyes, your attention, make money. It makes sense, then, to post more, comment more, engage more, in the hopes of being noticed through all the noise. Social media is a different place than it was before the pandemic. And, try as we might, it is never going to go back. All we can do now is adjust.

I’ve written about this before, about a year ago now. But I’ve finally come up with something of a response to this situation, at least, for myself.

I started this newsletter as an agented writer looking for a space to reflect on the shifts in my life as writing became less of a hobby and more of a job. It was a way to make myself heard through the noise, because I did not have any other published work.

Now, as a debut novelist, I find myself wondering if I have to adjust my relationship to this newsletter. NECROGENESIS, after all, is an awful lot of words the public could be reading from me. I wonder: is Lilith’s Muse even necessary anymore? Should I take a step back? Share less? Become more mysterious?

I don’t want to. I want to be more transparent about the process and my experiences. I would not be a writer without the old version of social media. I like to imagine I can give back, in some way. And sure, I am no longer1 a fan of oversharing, but I enjoy the occasional glimpse behind the curtain.

I want to make this newsletter worthy of your attention. I don’t want to feel like I’m tricking you into paying attention to it (and, on a deeper level, tricking you into paying attention to me).

There used to be tons of resources for aspiring writers entering traditional publishing. Those were resources that helped me get my foot in the door. Now, it’s significantly more difficult to find reliable resources. It’s even harder to find professional, transparent spaces. Literary scammers have infested social media (especially on Tiktok). So I do think it is useful to have a window into what it’s like being a debut author.

But there is only so much I can do. I feel the quality of this newsletter suffering. I don’t like that.2 I want to produce work that is more thoughtful than what I can manage to eke out once a month. Lilith’s Muse is meant to be supplemental to my novel writing, a fun place you can peek behind the curtain of my work if you are so inclined. I’m not sure that sort of work necessitates monthly updates.

My values are a double-sided coin: I want to write things that are helpful for the reader, yes, but also helpful for myself.

Having said all this, I’ve decided that Lilith’s Muse will now be a quarterly newsletter, instead of twice per month. This means that I will update this newsletter four times per year with longer, more thoughtful essays with meatier content. The topics will be the same, but the extra time will give me more wiggle room to improve each newsletter you receive.

I like to produce good things, and if that means they will accumulate slowly, so be it. I believe difficult things are worth doing. I think putting effort into things is very chic.

I like to write essays at a pace—slowly, over time, pondering. I write fiction very quickly, almost like puking a story out, but nonfiction takes me a long time. It’s hard to sort out my own voice. I’m so used to borrowing someone else’s.

So, think of this as a rebirth of the newsletter! We are embarking on a whole new era!

(I will also use this space as an actual newsletter for my published work. So you will get short e-mails about my debut novel NECROGENESIS whenever something relevant happens!)

Some essay topics I have planned for the future are:

• Behind-the-scenes updates on my work-in-progress novels, including reflections on craft, my creative rituals, and writing tips based on what’s been working for me

• Craft mini-essays on themes like representations of marginalized communities within media, the gothic and horror genre across mediums, and general thoughts on my favorite abstract topics like desire, ambition, haunting, etc.

• Reading wrap-ups and recommendation lists based on what I’m watching, listening to, eating, or otherwise obsessed with

• Guides for emotionally processing overwhelm, burnout, comparison games, and other mental health pitfalls that come with being in traditional publishing (I am a therapist by day, after all!)

What does this mean for paid subscribers? If you are a paid subscriber, thank you from the bottom of my heart. I truly appreciate you more than you could ever know, especially in today’s economic climate. Your contribution truly does help.

You’re welcome. But seriously—what does this mean for paid subscribers? Paid subscribers will get early access to essays, which, after two weeks, will become free! (Which is precisely the case with this essay.)

I hope you’ll stick with me through this change. I want this space to be filled with words that I am proud of. I want it to feel real and personal and substantial and, above all, helpful. I hope it is inspiring to aspiring writers, but I also hope it helps professional writers know they are not alone in trying to survive the tradpub machine.

The next time you hear from me will be in April. I wish you a pleasant end to winter and I’ll see you again when the flowers bloom.

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recommendations.

It’s time for three months’ worth of recommendations in one post—ready? set? go!

BOOKS:

1. If you’re keeping an eye out for new releases this year, I recently shared my list of 2025/2026 books that I’m excited about. The list features my specialties: horror, BIPOC voices, LGBTQ+ narratives. I hope you find something you’re interested in.

2. I’m very excited about Luke Dumas’s new horror novel, Nothing Tastes as Good! It seems to be about an evil (more evil?) version of a GLP-1 that has “murderous side effects”. I loved A History of Fear so I’m pumped for this one. It releases in March 2026.

3. Stephanie Wambugu’s Lonely Crowds is a queer lit fic novel about the complicated friendship between two girls in 90’s NYC. What’s not to love? This is high on my TBR and I expect to devour it.

4. Lots of people recommended The Tainted Cup by Robert Jackson Bennet but I, foolishly, did not listen until recently. I’m slowly making my way through it, and I am thoroughly enjoying the sharp characterization and intricate worldbuilding. If you’re looking for your next fantasy mystery novel, look no further!

5. Onto poetry, perhaps? Sawako Nakayasu’s Some Girls Walk into the Country They Are From is on my TBR this late winter, described as “an unsettling diaspora of girls”. The poetess describes exploring the concept of girls in a similar lens through which she explored previous subjects, “texture and ants”. I hunger.

6. Closing this list out with a nonfiction recommendation: Right to Sex by Amia Srinivasan. The subtitle, “Feminism in the Twenty-First Century,” may give you a lens into how Srinivasan discusses sex, gender, attraction, and consent in a way that is both modern and accessible.

OTHER MEDIA:

7. This YouTube video essay (mass media consumption is rotting your brain babe) by Mia’s Digital Diary is deeply thematically related to this newsletter. Would highly recommend it.

8. Alma’s Rainbow (1994) has become one of my favorite coming-of-age films, if not one of my favorite movies of all time. Showcasing the relationship between a teen girl, Rainbow, and the influence of her strict mother and flamboyant, artistic aunt, and how she must forge a path for herself in 90’s Brooklyn. Black excellence in filmmaking! Infinitely rewatchable.

9. Le Petit 3 is a monthly newspaper delivered to your home. It is gorgeously designed and also quite popular online. I’m more excited about physical media these days. I like things I can touch. I recently signed up for a delivery, and I cannot wait for it.

10. Florence and the Machine’s new album, Everybody Scream, because of course. Witchy, evocative, wild, free. Florence at her best, in my opinion. My favorites include: Sympathy Magic, Buckle, Drink Deep, and the titular Everybody Scream.

11. Lately, I’ve been listening to Kamasi Washington in the mornings for moody, evocative jazz. It’s perfect for these late winter days, especially if you’re spending wandering—either the world or your own thoughts.

12. If you didn’t know that I love shounen anime, you’ll know it now because I’m recommending Gachiakuta! Everything from worldbuilding to characterization to the plot is so engaging and engrossing. I love the themes of redemption/not throwing people (or items!) away or deeming them “worthless”. Also the OST is to die for.

LIFESTYLE:

13. If you’re a writer, you need to try the app Scapple! It’s made by the same company that made Scrivener (I tried to be a Scrivener girlie, but I failed). It is, single-handedly, the reason I’ve been able to get any work done. I lose my train of thought so quickly these days, so it’s helpful to scribble down not only the idea itself, but what generated it, and what question it causes me to ponder in consequence. I’m excited to use it for planning nonfiction, especially newsletter essays. Stay tuned!

14. Back in December, I visited the Brooklyn Renegade Craft Fair and brought a lot of goodies. One of which was three sticker sheets from Pyperbleu Art, who is also an artist vlogger I’ve been watching on YouTube for a few years now! Her style is colorful, whimsical, and delightful. I highly recommend her sticker sheets and bookmarks.

15. Wishlist item: these Paloma Wool gloves. Clearly, I am still thinking about gloves because I recommended a pair in my last newsletter. One must forgive a girl with delicate fingers for being passionate about gloves.

16. Commodity has a “personal” fragrance called Milk, with notes of marshmallow, tonka bean, and white cedar. It smells warm, comforting, and clean. Perfect for a cozy winter day.

17. A late winter specific recommendation: hunting down a good candlewarmer. They’re not expensive, but they’re perfect for cozy, dark nights when you just want to curl up with a book or get some writing done. It also helps your candles to melt more evenly, so they last longer!

18. I recently went to a figure drawing class at Happy Medium—I highly suggest if you’re in the city and looking for a fun, indoor-but-outside-of-your-house winter activity! You don’t need to be an artist! All supplies are given to you. Just show up ready to make art for a few hours.

where to find me.

Website: ashiamonet.com

X/Twitter: @ashiamonet

Tiktok and Instagram: @ashiawrites

Joan Didion famously wrote that the importance of keeping a notebook was not in its factual ability to recount the past, but its ability to capture herself at a given moment in time. She writes, “How it felt to me: that is getting closer to the truth about a notebook. […] Remember what it was to be me: that is always the point.”

I was many different people in 2025: grad school student, therapist-in-training, debut novelist, best friend, ex-girlfriend, daughter, roommate. Through it all, though, I have been a writer. I always will be.

I tend to write about 15k words per month—less if things are happening, more if things are, well, not. Sometimes I write more because things are happening, though, so perhaps this is an unreliable metric. (You do not have to produce as much as I do in order to be a writer. In fact, I think you shouldn’t. I am a troubled individual and therefore should not be used as a role model.)

So here’s my year in words—messy and ambitious, haunted and hopeful.

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The woods are lovely, dark and deep,

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep.

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, Robert Frost

It’s my first holiday season in Brooklyn. The Christmas decorations went up in New York City a lot faster than I expected. The sun had barely set on Halloween night before the halls were decked and the chestnuts set to roast.

December is a contradiction. The days are dark, but the holiday lights are bright. The weather is too cold to warrant lingering outside and yet ‘tis the season of gathering, caroling, celebrating. I am thinking of end-of-year roundups as much as I am dreaming of what I want out of the next year. Onward, we press, through the darkness, embracing endings and beginnings in tandem.

At the time of writing this newsletter—and, perhaps, your reading it—I’m finishing my first round of revisions for NECROGENESIS based on my editor’s lovely, astute feedback. It is my first time revising a book for publication, knowing it will be read by readers. Probably not many. But some, at least.

In the spirit of this, I am allowing myself to embody The Hermit tarot card. A figure of seclusion, wisdom, and introspection, he is usually depicted holding a lantern in the solitary dark, looking forward into a world we, the viewer, cannot see.

In my early twenties, I hated this card. I hated stillness, I hated seclusion. I associated isolation with loneliness and stillness with a lack of productivity. I also used to hate winter. I was a summer child: I wanted to be active, to have fun, to make memories, to be someone worth knowing. Now, in my old age1, I have a newfound appreciation for stillness. There are some things that can only be realized in silence. There are some stories you can only tell when you are alone.

I am looking forward to a season of creative revision and introspection. NECROGENESIS is, after all, a winter book—perhaps even a bit of a gothic Christmas novel—and so it perfectly fits the season. I’m going to spend a lot of hours bundled up under blankets at home, drinking hot lattes in cafes, refining my novel. I am hibernating, reflecting, working. Romanticizing my way through the cold.

My manifesto this season is to ruminate, to think all the things I don’t allow myself the self-indulgence of thinking, and then to write it all down. Seeing what pours out of me when I just let the lifeblood flow onto the page. Not worrying about whether or not it’ll be any good, just wanting it to be something real and true.

This is one of the last times NECROGENESIS will be mine. Soon it may even be yours. It’s a strange feeling, preparing to publish a novel I never expected to sell to traditional publishing. But here I am, despite it all.

Endings lead to beginnings, as is their nature. I thought my ending would be the book deal and moving to the new, big city. It was not, of course. I still wake up in the morning, with more life left to live, hours I’m still learning how best to fill.

Ultimately, I think the key is to trust that there will be something new after every ending. Something new you can walk into, having gained wisdom. I tell myself this when a book is not doing as well in the traditional publishing sphere. There will always be another book. After every ending comes a new beginning. A new draft, a new idea, a new chapter. And just because something is over doesn’t mean it disappears: the memory of the feast may last longer than the meal itself. That knowledge, that experience, you can carry with you always.

If I could make winter a key part of my brand, I would. I resonate deeply with seasons of transition and rebirth. Things are shifting and changing in the dark. We continue to work, albeit in a different fashion than we do in the light. But it all matters. When one year ends, another waits to take its place. And when a story ends, the next one is often already bubbling, waiting to be written.

Let’s finish bravely and begin again. I’ll see you in the new year.

There are such a lot of things that have no place in summer and autumn and spring. Everything that’s a little shy and a little rum. Some kinds of night animals and people that don’t fit in with others and that nobody really believes in. They keep out of the way all the year. And then when everything’s quiet and white and the nights are long and most people are asleep—then they appear.

Moominland Midwinter, Tove Jansson

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recommendations.

Libraries! I just got my library card and I’m so excited about it! (Did I accidentally get one for Manhattan instead of Brooklyn because I didn’t realize they were different branches? Yes…but what has that got to do with anything…) Please support your local library; they have so many resources and librarians are some of the coolest, chillest people you’ll ever meet. GO TO THE LIBRARY!

Next, Rosalia’s Lux is giving me a borderline religious experience. Each lyric is poetry. Just when you think her operatic vocals couldn’t get any more heavenly, the choir jumps in and the violins swing into a frenzy. Holy shit. If you’re curious about what my novels sound like, they’re all literally Berghain, from tempo to theme. I also really love Mio Christo Piange Diamanti.

If I may make a New York City rec: Casa Magazines is a magazine store in the West Village with a delicious collection of international magazines. I like to pop in there and rifle around to see what I can find. Supporting print media is really important to me, but magazines are also a good source of inspiration for any creative work.

In the theme of cold weather, I also recommend investing in a good pair of leather gloves. This is a wishlist item, admittedly, but they’re so chic2. The image of them peeking out of trench coat sleeves is such a statement. I’ve been eying this pair of leather cuties from Aritzia.

Relatedly, I have two of these chunky yarn scarves from Uniqlo and I will be buying more. I am always cold, but these keep me warm. They’re also such a fun addition to a winter outfit.

Finally, I’m reading a lot of random things, including an out-of-print Anne Rice novel (because of course I am) that I found, used, for ten dollars (because of course I did). But I’d like to recommend Eros: The Bittersweet by Anne Carson. It’s a scholarly breakdown of love and desire—so basically everything I love—through the lens of Greek poets. It’s a short read but a dense one. It gives you a lot to chew on in terms of what it means to yearn, and if that yearning could—or should—ever be satisfied.

where to find me.

Website: ashiamonet.com

X/Twitter: @ashiamonet

Tiktok and Instagram: @ashiawrites

When I first dreamt of publication, I imagined a day when the no’s would stop—a magic threshold I could cross where the doors would swing open and stay open. When I signed with my agent, I assumed my moment of invulnerability had come, that after my book sold, I’d never have to hear the word “no” from publishing ever again.

Then my book died a long, slow death on submission for a year, gathering more rejections than I’d ever heard in my life.

I remember feeling stunned. I thought that initial yes was all I needed. So I asked around, chatted with my peers, did some research. I learned that some writers got the three critical yes’s in a row—the agent, the book deal, the positive critical reception upon release—only to be unable to sell their next book. Some people get the agent, but not the book deal. Some get the book deal, but poor critical reception and poor sales (which usually translates to poor chances of continuing their career).

The good news is that my failure on submission, like most failures, was a learning experience. I’m here now, debut novel upcoming1, fully aware that rejection doesn’t disappear; it shapeshifts.

This is a hard pill to swallow for a writer at any stage, but especially an aspiring one. Everyone likes to believe that there will come a day when you can write whatever you want, however you want, and it will be purchased immediately by a Big Five publisher for hundreds of thousands of dollars, adored by critics and audiences alike.

The truth is a lot more complicated. Perhaps even demoralizing.

Even after the book deal, there is a chance you will hear no’s from marketing teams and festival committees, from foreign rights agents and reviewers and award juries. Sometimes it isn’t even a “no” at all, but silence—emails that never come, conversations you aren’t included in, opportunities that vanish before you even knew they existed.

Do I wish the industry was different, both for myself and for my peers? Of course. Do I, singlehandedly, have the power to change any of it? No. What I can do is have open and honest discussions about what newer writers can expect, the same way industry veterans did for me.

Not long ago, I opened one of those “no” emails for a novel on submission. I was in the West Village, waiting to meet up with a friend. My phone buzzed—an email from my agent—and I glanced at the subject line. The city seemed to tilt as the words sunk in. Another door closed, ever so softly. I went into a nearby bakery and brought myself a chocolate chip cookie. My friend texted me—she’d arrived. Off I went to meet her.

The good news is that this “no” didn’t land as hard as the earlier ones. At a certain point, you get used to it. You know your rituals for dealing with rejection. You become good friends with that feeling of disappointment. Despite the rejections, life goes on. You can still breathe. You can still live.

Every writer I know lives with rejection, from debut authors to midlist writers to bestsellers. Back in the old days on Twitter, people would often say that publishing is not a meritocracy. This is to say that just because you work hard doesn’t mean you’ll be rewarded. Sometimes, people who do not work hard succeed despite their lack of effort. This will drive you insane if you let it.

Traditional publishing is an industry fueled by finances and capitalism as much as it is by luck, timing, and talent. The rejections are real, and often, they’re not personal. Sometimes they’re not even about you.

A common piece of advice is to focus on what you can control. Write the next book, for instance. But rejection often leads to demoralization. Everyone copes with demoralization differently. Personally, I am someone who likes to keep a list of things I can do to feel better when I feel hopeless. It helps to have a “rejection plan”—that is, a specific list of actionable things you can do to lift your spirits enough to get back to your next work.

Turning to a support system is always a good idea. I like to rant to friends, both writers and non-writers. Sometimes you get validation, sometimes you get a hug, sometimes you get your favorite takeout sent to your apartment by a long-distance friend. It doesn’t change the rejection, but it helps you feel less alone.

Your relationship with your creativity can be tender, resilient, and whole. You can protect it, nurture it, treat it as something sacred. And when rejection knocks, you can let it visit without letting it move in. Go outside for a walk, give yourself an excuse to be sad. Whatever you need to return to the page feeling whole again.

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recommendations.

Gladys Books and Wine is a Black owned, lesbian bar and bookstore in Bed-Stuy. I can’t stop talking about it. One of the reasons I moved to New York City was for the lesbian community, and so this place is a safe haven for me. If you can’t visit it in the city, you can always follow them on Instagram.

Next: Noen magazine. It is, specifically, a “modern intimacy publication” featuring some utterly gorgeous art and stunning photography. It’s created by an intimacy brand, and I love that we’re entering an era of cross-media creative projects.

If you’re in the mood for a new podcast, try Wonderful! It celebrates the small things that married couple Griffin and Rachel McElroy find wonderful. I used to listen to it years ago and wandered back to it as my podcast listening has increased. The topics range from Beverly Cleary to umbrellas to The Sims. They’re so pleasant and always keep me in a great mood.

Over on YouTube, Olurinatti’s video essays are works of art. I love YouTubers who have well-structured, well-researched essays infused with a ton of personality and humor. Olayemi Olurin hits all of those marks. (She also has like, six or seven channels, all of which have different focuses.) Topics include an analysis of pretty privilege, a breakdown of Andrew Cuomo’s many failings, and how Sinners (2025) became such a breakout success.

The last audiobook I listened to was Doppelgänger by Naomi Klein. This book has been out for a while, but everything Klein writes about is still scarily relevant. The narrative opens with a focus on Klein’s online double. It ends with reflections on anti-semitism, the alt-right, neo-Nazis, and how we got to whatever the fuck America is in 2025. Klein offers a grounding perspective to put some of this painful, confusing slipperiness into a solid, tangible shape. I often found myself reflecting: oh, THAT’S what’s going on.

Finally, Aunts et Uncles is a Black owned, vegan cafe in Flatbush where I had some of the most delicious sorrel I’ve ever tasted. I’ve had such nice interactions with the staff and patrons here, I recommend popping in for a bite to eat and staying a while to soak up the atmosphere.

where to find me.

Website: ashiamonet.com

X/Twitter: @ashiamonet

Tiktok and Instagram: @ashiawrites

For years, November meant that thousands of writers were gearing up for National Novel Writing Month, shortened to NaNoWriMo. (If you aren’t familiar, NaNo was a thrilling, slightly unhinged challenge to draft 50,000 words in thirty days. The organization closed earlier this year due to unethical conduct.)

Back in 2021, this was the challenge that resulted in the first draft of my debut novel, NECROGENESIS. I remember writing in a haze of early mornings and late nights. Time blurred. I finished the first draft with 55k words—too slim for an actual novel, over the threshold for the challenge. I was elated.

I didn’t know if anyone would read NECROGENESIS back then. I thought it, like the novel that got me my agent, would die on submission. I now know that it is my debut, and I am so grateful that I trusted my creative process. That I gave myself the freedom to be messy, to try, to have fun. I wrote NECRO because I believed in it. Often, that belief and inspiration are all you need.

This year, things are a little similar, a little different. A funhouse mirror of the previous challenge.

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When I was younger and just learning how to tell stories, I had an elaborate set of rituals to help the words flow. I didn’t have language for it, but I knew I had to keep each story in its own notebook. I had to format each chapter in the exact same way and I had to write in the same spot on my bedroom floor, cross-legged beneath the window. I was convinced that straying from any part of this ritual would shatter the spell of creation.

I want to say that I’ve grown out of that. In reality, I’ve just grown into a different set of rituals. I always talk about how making art feels like the closest thing a mortal can get to magic. To me, writing feels like spellcasting.

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It’s the season of long shadows and even longer nights, in which all semblance of the ordinary world feels thin and strange. It’s the perfect month for stories that sit in an in-between place: not quite of our world, but resembling it.

Here are some of my favorite books that remind me of October. Some are unsettling horror, others are reflective and quiet. All of them are novels that exemplify liminal energy.

So, light a candle and pour yourself a warm drink. It’s time to embrace the shadows.

classic gothic

• Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë
  It’s a classic for a reason! A haunting novel about an infamous, destructive love story. Featuring literal and metaphorical ghosts haunting dark moors, I truly believe this is a timeless novel that’s perfect for the season.

• Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier
  Another absolute favorite of mine. A decaying estate, a dead wife’s lingering presence, and a narrator who can’t quite trust what she sees—or herself. Mysterious, evocative, unforgettable.

• Interview with the Vampire by Anne Rice
  Don’t listen to the modern fandom that cries about this book being boring. If you have patience, you will be rewarded with a story that is lush and melancholic, dripping with decadence and shadow. It’s about queer love, morality, desire, and grief, spanning New Orleans to Paris.

• Mexican Gothic by Silvia Moreno-Garcia
  This is, in my opinion, a modern classic in the genre. The story follows a glamorous young woman who travels to a remote mansion in Mexico to save her cousin. In the process, she uncovers rot, secrets, and an ancient power.

• The Hacienda by Isabel Cañas
  A new bride must confront political unrest and a house that seems to hunger for her destruction. This one is on my personal TBR (to be read) list for the season, but I’ve heard nothing but good things about it.

• We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson
  A gothic-leaning psychological horror about two sisters living isolated from society. In true Shirley Jackson fashion, there are family secrets, lush prose, and a creeping, ominous dread. It’s short but unforgettable.

• The Girl from Rawblood by Catriona Ward
  Another personal favorite of mine that I devoured in a week. An eerie, beautifully written novel about a generational family curse, set in an isolated Dartmoor estate. Ward blends gothic tradition with a fresh sensibility—perfect for readers who love lyrical horror.

modern gothic / dark fantasy

• Necrogenesis by Ashia Monet
  This is definitely cheating. Not only am I adding my own book to this list, but it’s my book that won’t be out until (tentatively) Fall 2026. But, as a story that follows the mysterious deaths of the world’s last necromancers in the 1970s, it fits the vibes of this list perfectly. It’s queer, it’s haunting, it’s thoughtful, and I hope it’ll be something you look for in the coming year.

• White is for Witching by Helen Oyeyemi
  While I’ve seen this one discussed a few times online, I do feel as if it is underrated and under-reccomended. This is a haunted house story like you’ve never seen before, that blends grief, family trauma, and uncanny hunger. Oyeyemi’s prose is singular and sharp.

• Juniper and Thorn by Ava Reid
  This is another addition from my TBR list for the season! A dark, sensual fairytale filled with yearning and dread, set in a city both magical and decaying.

• House of Hunger by Alexis Henderson
  A young woman enters the dangerous world of a wealthy vampire court, only to discover her own power amid blood and decadence. It’s sapphic, chaotic, and will linger with you long after you’ve finished the final page.

• Revelator by Daryl Gregory
  Another of my all-time favorites. Set in 1930s Appalachia, this novel mixes family secrets, old gods, and religious fervor. If you want southern gothic stories, you’ll want to pick this one up. Strange, unsettling, and richly textured.

• Comfort Me With Apples by Catherynne M. Valente
  This is a novella, if you’re looking for a shorter read. The story follows a perfect marriage in a perfect town where every couple is just perfect. Clearly, everything is not what it seems. Eerie and compact, there’s a fairytale edge to this one that makes it extremely memorable.

• Ghostroots by Pemi Aguda

  Another book added from my personal TBR for the season. This is a haunting anthology of short stories surrounding family and folklore. The dead refuse to stay buried, literally and metaphorically.

• Cemetery Boys by Aiden Thomas
  Because, duh. How could I not recommend this? Lighter in tone than some other recs on this list, this book is a spooky, heartwarming YA paranormal romance about a trans Latinx boy who accidentally summons a ghost—and maybe finds love.

• Starling House by Alix E. Harrow
  Another book added from my personal TBR for the season. Modern Southern gothic with a touch of magic. A decaying house, a girl desperate to escape her small town, and the secrets braiding them together. I’ve heard good things about this one!

thrillers (and thrillers-ish because this section was too short)

• Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn
  A dark, razor-sharp exploration of marriage, identity, and manipulation. Twisted, addictive, and perfect for readers who love psychological games.

• The Between by Tananarive Due
  Tananarive Due is one of my favorite writers. I decided to recommend this book specifically: a dreamlike, chilling exploration of a man slipping between realities while battling generational trauma and personal grief. Honestly, you should pick up anything she’s written.

• A History of Fear by Luke Dumas
  A young academic confesses to a gruesome murder and claims that the devil made him do it—but did he actually? This book is compelling from start to finish, and shocking and amusing at some points. Claustrophobic and deeply gothic.

• These Violent Delights by Micah Nemerever
  A dark, intense novel about two college students whose obsessive love spirals into destruction. Tender and terrifying. If you love The Secret History, you’ll be all over this. I read this book years ago, and I still think of it.

• The Secret History by Donna Tartt
  Moody, intellectual, and perfect for autumn. It may seem silly to recommend such a popular book. But a lot of readers talk about this book. Very few actually finish it. I challenge you to reach the last page.

• From the Belly by Emmett Nahil

  Nautical horror that follows a mysterious man found in the belly of a whale who is brought aboard a whaling ship—and all hell breaks loose. A compact, razor-sharp, queer read with an ending that will stick with you.

quiet and reflective

• Our Wives Under the Sea by Julia Armfield
  A tender, eerie exploration of love and grief as a woman’s wife returns from a mysterious deep-sea expedition forever changed. Slow, methodical, lingering.

• On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous by Ocean Vuong
  A poetic novel in vignettes and flashes of memory, following family, queerness, and the weight of inherited trauma. Tender.

• Giovanni’s Room by James Baldwin
  One of my favorite books of all time. Slim and pointed, this is a story of love, desire, and shame set in 1950’s Paris. Baldwin’s prose is luminous and haunting.

• Biography of X by Catherine Lacey

  Another book added from my personal TBR for the season. A widow writes a “biography” for her lost lover, a radical artist in an alternate America. Genre-blending and ambiguous, the perfect thought-provoking novel for autumn.

• M Train by Patti Smith

  Another book added from my personal TBR for the season, especially since I loved Just Kids so much. This is a thoughtful memoir that spans about forty years, covering loss, ritual, and the strangeness that is making art.

• Madonna in a Fur Coat by Sabahattin Ali

  A devastating classic that’s recently become quite popular. Short but unforgettable, if you’re in the mood for a story about the reshaping power of love and relationships, you’ll want to pick this one up.

where to find me.

Website: ashiamonet.com

X/Twitter: @ashiamonet

Tiktok and Instagram: @ashiawrites

While rereading my post on May’s writing updates, I noticed that I specified having “the first half of summer” to write. That feels accurate. Moving mutated into a hassle that devoured the second half of the season. Autumn pounced on me out of nowhere. But I made some meaningful progress that I’d like to tell you about!

As I mentioned before, I have a haphazard method of writing in which I let multiple projects simmer at multiple stages of development. I’d like to check in on where each project is while discussing what I’d like to accomplish in the fall.

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I moved to NYC the same week Chappel Roan’s The Subway dropped, which means I was treated to promo images plastered all over—you’ll never guess—the subway, and various other flat surfaces across the city. It felt fitting, considering I moved here to connect with other lesbians and other folks in the publishing industry. (It’ll be a win-win if I make friends with other lesbians in publishing!)

But the process of moving was excruciating. It involved me going from Boston to Philly to NYC in one week. I repacked my belongings multiple times. I went on more apartment tours than I can count, each worse—and more insanely priced—than the last. It was a storm of pure insanity, especially since I’m a perfectionist. I like to go over the same details over and over and over again until I know they’re perfect. This is also usually a waste of time.

Perfectionism does not work in New York City.

There’s far too much to do here, and far too much inspiration to be found, for perfectionism to do you a single lick of good. Ticketed events sell out quickly, there are more social outings than you can keep track of, and old friends and family want to visit you and, more importantly, the city. All the while, you must balance a day job and remember to buy toilet paper.

So far, for me, it is worth it. The people are much kinder than Boston (and significantly less racist). Trying, with any real amount of effort, is usually acknowledged, sometimes even rewarded. I am inspired to abandon perfection in favor of doing my best and moving on.

I spent all of August in a sublet in Bed-Stuy, apartment hunting for a more permanent spot. Apartment hunting in New York City in 2025 requires you to be bold and quick. Not necessarily perfect, just good enough. “Good enough” is not something I am used to, which is probably why it took me so long to get the hang of it.

I went on way too many apartment tours before I settled into my current place. But things are much calmer now; I’m getting to know my neighborhood, my roommates, and the city as a whole. As you read this, I am probably getting lost on the subway, spending too much money on coffee, going to McNally Jackson for the 18^th time in one week, and dragging my friends to all the lesbian bars.

I’m also learning how to be less of a perfectionist.

In late August, I sent the first draft of NECROGENESIS (2026) to my editor. It’s not a first draft in a traditional sense. NECRO sold as an RNR (revise and resubmit). This draft is the first full draft that my editor is seeing. I think it is for that reason that I wanted—needed?—it to be perfect. But, as my therapist aptly pointed out, it’s a first draft. There will be other drafts, other notes, other changes. For now, it just has to be good enough. I have to let it be good enough. It’s the only way to make any sort of progress.

I am adjusting to being a debut author and working within a specific timeline while balancing life’s various responsibilities. I am adjusting to being a recovering perfectionist. But for now, I have a local café I love to visit, I am decorating my bedroom to make it feel like home, and I am settling into this new chapter of my life.

Full disclosure: I’ve been here for one full calendar month and two weeks. We’ll see how I feel after six months. Or perhaps even a year. Until then, I’ll be relistening to Chappel Roan’s The Subway on repeat.

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recommendations.

Let’s start this list off strong with Killing Eve. I’ve been rewatching since it’s on Netflix now! If you’re a fan of Hannibal and toxic yuri, you need to watch this. There’s a chance that if you’re subscribed to this newsletter, you’re a fan of Killing Eve already. Consider this an invitation to join me in a rewatch. (Villanelle always telling women to wear their hair down in season one…she’s just like me for real.) I love violent sapphics!

The Left Hand of Darkness by Ursula K Le Guin is a classic that I finally got around to reading. I’m so glad I did. I can see why this story has lingered with people for decades. It’s about politics and gender, sure, but it’s also about personal perspectives on the self and relationships. This book taught me how to ask really interesting questions about worldbuilding and reminded me of how fun genre fiction used to be. I continue to stan the old school writers! They knew what they were doing!

Let me prove that I read contemporary books as well: I beg you to pick up The Buffalo Hunter Hunter by Stephen Graham Jones. It’s very difficult to have a unique vampire story in the modern age, but of course SGJ managed to pull it off. This book feels like Interview with the Vampire’s scarier, Western, body horror-filled cousin that still makes you laugh and features characters you won’t soon forget.

I’ve been listening to a lot of Debbii Dawson, who is a really fun electro pop artist! Her sound feels very 80s-esque, which is popular lately, but her playful, bright voice feels unique. I really love Gut Feelings and Walla Walla.

Super Gay Poems is an anthology of queer poetry edited by Stephanie Burt that I’m really, really excited about. I initially thought this was just a collection of queer poems—which, in a way, it is—but it also features short biographies about each poet and their body of work. This sold me on it completely. If you’re interested in LGBTQIA+ history, poetry, and art, I highly recommend getting your hands on this.

And, finally, obviously, like, seriously, watch the music video for The Subway if you haven’t already. Say what you want about that girl, but very few singers are doing artistic direction the way Chappell Roan is right now, and it’s a visual delight.

where to find me.

Website: ashiamonet.com

X/Twitter: @ashiamonet

Tiktok and Instagram: @ashiawrites

When I am nervous about the future, I look for guidance from the past. Censorship and suppression are old tactics. Queer art has always known that expression is survival. I think often about the queer zines of the 80’s and 90’s—DIY publications stapled together in bedrooms and basements, written in the margins of the mainstream. They were messy, raw, political, sexy. They were made to be passed hand-to-hand, left in cafés and record stores, mailed across state lines. They saved lives. They built community.

That same spirit of radical creation continues today, though it often takes new forms. The books on this list are just a few upcoming titles that have caught my eye—some new releases, some forthcoming, all buzzing with that unmistakable electricity that queer storytelling carries. The descriptions are pulled from official synopses, but the enthusiasm in sharing them is mine.

These books are part of a larger lineage of survival, resistance, and love made visible on the page. Though queer art may not always look the same through the eras, queer art will always exist. There will always be someone writing to us, for us, with us in mind. That’s the power of queer art. It endures.

Happy Pride Month. I love you. I see you. I am so proud of you. Let’s keep fighting and let’s keep reading.

Girls Who Play Dead, Joelle Wellington (11/4/2025)

• YA Thriller

• When Mikky Graves left his small, stifling hometown of Prophets Lake to live with his estranged mother, he thought nothing could ever make him return for good. Until his sister Kyla’s best friend, Erin, is murdered. Mikky never worried about leaving Kyla behind at their family-owned funeral home so long as she had Erin. But when Mikky heads home, determined to help Kyla grieve, the sister he encounters barely resembles the one he remembers. Mikky decides, then and there, to do the one thing that seems even more impossible than returning: stay. As Kyla spirals further into her rage and secrets, Mikky realizes the only thing that can help his sister is finding the truth about who killed Erin. But the more he investigates, the further he’s pulled into other ugly mysteries of Prophets Lake and the beauty brand that is its lifeblood. The town’s rot runs deep, and everyone has something to hide. Perhaps no one more than Kyla herself.

The Lighthouse at the Edge of the World, J.R. Dawson (7/19/2025)

• Fantasy

• At the edge of Chicago, nestled on the shores of Lake Michigan, there is a waystation for the dead. Every night, the newly-departed travel through the city to the Station, guided by its lighthouse. There, they reckon with their lives, before stepping aboard a boat to go beyond. Nera has spent decades watching her father—the ferryman of the dead—sail across the lake, each night just like the last. But tonight, something is wrong. The Station’s lighthouse has started to flicker out. The terrifying, ghostly Haunts have multiplied in the city. And now a person—a living person—has found her way onto the boat. Her name is Charlie. She followed a song. And she is searching for someone she lost.

Leaving the Station, Jake Maia Arlow (8/19/2025)

• YA Contemporary

• Zoe’s life has gone off the rails. She banked on college being a fresh start, but instead she’s leaving for fall break with zero friends and an ex-boyfriend, the latter being a real shock considering she’s a lesbian. On a cross-country train home, Zoe meets Oakley, who is also running away from her mistakes, and Zoe starts to wonder if they just might be able to help each other along before that train finally leaves the station.

Lessons in Magic and Disaster, Charlie Jane Anders (8/19/2025)

• Fantasy

• Jamie is basically your average New England academic in-training–she has a strong queer relationship, an esoteric dissertation proposal, and inherited generational trauma. But she has one extraordinary secret: she’s also a powerful witch. Serena, Jamie’s mother, has been hiding from the world in an old one-room schoolhouse for several years, grieving the death of her wife and the simultaneous explosion in her professional life. All she has left are memories. Jamie’s busy digging into a three-hundred-year-old magical book, but she still finds time to teach Serena to cast spells and help her come out of her shell. But Jamie doesn’t know the whole story of what happened to her mom years ago, and those secrets are leading Serena down a destructive path. Now it’s up to this grad student and literature nerd to understand the secrets behind this mysterious novel from 1749, unearth a long-buried scandal hinted therein, and learn the true nature of magic, before her mother ruins both of their lives.

You Weren’t Meant to Be Human, Andrew Joseph White (9/9/2025)

• Horror

• Festering masses of worms and flies have taken root in dark corners across Appalachia. In exchange for unwavering loyalty and fresh corpses, these hives offer a few struggling humans salvation. A fresh start. It’s an offer that none refuse. Crane is grateful. Among his hive’s followers, Crane has found a chance to transition, to never speak again, to live a life that won’t destroy him. He even met Levi: a handsome ex-Marine and brutal killer who treats him like a real man, mostly. But when Levi gets Crane pregnant—and the hive demands the child’s birth, no matter the cost—Crane’s desperation to make it stop will drive the community that saved him into a devastating spiral that can only end in blood. You Weren’t Meant to Be Human is a deeply personal horror; a visceral statement about the lives of marginalized people in a hostile world, echoing the works of Stephen Graham Jones and Eric LaRocca.

The Maiden and Her Monster, Maddie Martinez (9/25/2025)

• Fantasy

• Uprooted meets The Wolf and the Woodsman in The Maiden and Her Monster, a sapphic retelling of the Jewish myth of golem. As the healer’s daughter, Malka has seen how the forest's curse has plagued her village. But the Ozmini Church only comes to collect its tithe, not to listen to heretics with false tales of monsters in the trees. When a clergy girl wanders too close to the woods and Malka’s mother is accused of her murder, Malka strikes an impossible bargain with a zealot Ozmini priest. If she brings him the monster, he will spare her mother from execution.

When They Burned the Butterfly, Wen-yi Lee (9/21/2025)

• Fantasy

• A fierce, glamorous sapphic fantasy reimagining the secret societies of postcolonial Singapore, for fans of Jade City, Silvia Moreno-Garcia, and the feverish intensity of RF Kuang’s Poppy War trilogy.

Fate’s Bane, C.L Clark (10/30/2025)

• Fantasy

• The clans of the fens enjoy a tenuous peace, and it is all thanks to Agnir, ward and hostage. For as long as she can remember she has lived among the enemy, learning their ways, growing strong alongside their children. When a burgeoning love for the chieftain’s daughter lures them both to a hidden spring, a magic awakens in them that could bind the clans under one banner at last―or destroy any hope of peace. By working their intentions into leather, they can weave misfortune for their enemies… just like the Fate’s Bane that haunts the legends of the clans. Ambitions grow in their fathers’ hearts, grudges threaten a return to violence, and greedy enemies wait outside the borders, seeking a foothold to claim the fens for themselves. And though their Makings may save their families, the legend that gave them this power always exacts its price.

Into the Midnight Wood, Alexandra McCollum (January 13, 2026)

• Romantasy

• A pair of mismatched roommates - a prickly accountant and an eccentric tattoo artist - who live next to an enchanted forest must face a malevolent magical entity and an impending family wedding that force them to finally confront their feelings for each other.

The Darkness Greeted Her, Christina Ferko (February 3, 2026)

• YA Horror

• In this atmospheric sapphic horror, a troubled teen is sent to a remote therapy camp in the Appalachian wilderness, where she must unravel a mystery of deadly occurrences as she battles harmful visions of her abusive father, sinister motives, and a lurking monster.

Child of the Dragon, Ashley Sheesley (Feb 2026*)

• YA Fantasy

• Legendborn X Fourth Wing. The chosen one is dead, the prophecy left unfulfilled, and the shape-shifting dragons of modern-day Earth are still cursed to be puppets to their dragon kings. It’s now up to a chronically ill ex-assassin, a sarcastic rebel, the chosen one’s granddaughter, and her anxious best friend to take up the mantle and save the dragons once and for all.

*Tentative release date!

Saltswept, Katalina Watt (Feb 2026)

• Fantasy

• A pirate faces the gallows drop. A farmer is given a terrible ultimatum to save her daughter. An acolyte ascends to priestesshood . . . only to find that a blessing really can be a curse. These unlikely bedfellows band together with an inscrutable pickpocket and a talking ottercat in pursuit of the most hopeless of causes: to sail into the Maelstrom - a raging whirlpool from which no one has ever escaped - and the mysterious treasure hidden within it. The quest will test their fragile allegiance to its limits, but there is more at stake here than getting rich: the magic of the world is in peril, and the barrier between life and death has never been so thin. And in the Bastion, the seat of power in Paranish, the queen has an unquenchable thirst that threatens the world and everyone in it. Can there be honour amongst thieves? Without it, they might never see another sunrise.

The Iron Garden Sutra, A.D. Sui (February 28, 2026)

• Sci-Fi

• A monk joins a science team in exploring a long-lost spaceship, uncovering its dark and disturbing history—and encountering something beyond human understanding—in this thought-provoking, metaphysical science fiction novel.

Hold Me Like a Grudge, Celine Ong (Early 2026)

• Romance

• When a rivalry between two professional wrestlers turns into feelings neither wants to deny, both men must fight for what they truly want in an industry with a history of denying queerness and leave a legacy of their own.

The Celestial Seas, T. A. Chan (March 2026)

• YA science-fiction

• A YA space opera homage to Moby Dick, about a girl who assembles a team of misfits to hunt down an autonomous spacecraft who murdered her former crew, all while torn between the attentions of a mysterious boy and the girl who’s always been at her side.

When You’re Brave Enough, Rebecca Bendheim (Spring 2026)

• Middle Grade

• Landing the lead in the school musical and preparing for her bat mitzvah push a queer eighth grader to ask big questions about who she wants to be in the world.

The Wives of Herrick Hall, Julie Lew (Spring 2026)

• Gothic fiction

• When Josephine arrives at Herrick Hall, she thinks nothing could be worse than serving as lady’s companion to the volatile Lady Blake. But when she and her mistress fall in love, the house awakens—and it will do everything in its power to protect its master's property.

Love Galaxy, Sierra Branham (Spring 2026)

• Sci-Fi/Fantasy

• To keep her family off the streets, a trash collector who detests reality dating shows must go on the empire's 'Bachelor'-style show and make the imperial prince fall in love with her but starts falling for his sister instead. And then contestants start dying.

Homebound, Portia Elan (May 2026)

• Debut fiction

• A wildly inventive and deeply moving debut spanning seven millennia, following a queer teen in the 1980s, a 400-year-old automaton, a time-slipping astronaut, and a 26th-century pirate—all of whom are linked by a computer game.

Mirrorwoven, Bori Cser (Summer 2026)

• YA fantasy

• When a runaway princess finds herself playing court-bard to a naïve young queen, she must safeguard both their futures – without breaking the spell that hides her identity by falling in love.

A Prince Among Pirates, Katie Abdou (June 2026)

• YA Fantasy

• Our Flah Means Death for fans of F.T. Lukens and Aiden Thomas, with the irreverent voice of MY LADY JANE, in which a foppish nobleman accidentally joins a pirate ship and falls for its debonair captain.

Just Ask Elsie, Ari Koontz (June 2026)

• Middle Grade

• A younger & more joyful take on Netflix's SEX EDUCATION, following 11-year-old Elsie Parker as she uses her creativity and spunk to fight for inclusive puberty education at her public school, while also contending with friend drama, family embarrassment, and her first crush on another girl.

Necrogenesis, Ashia Monet (Fall 2026) [That’s me!]

• Fantasy / Horror

• A dark academic, gothic fantasy in which a true crime fan ressurects a victim of a massacre to uncover what claimed the lives of seven necromancy students at a secluded manor in the 1970’s.

Not Your Typical Love Story, C.R. Averett (Fall 2026)

• YA Romance

• You've Got Mail meets Loveless, about a pair of aroace-spec (asexual and aromantic) academic rivals whose future dreams—due to a meddling older sister—become contingent on the two of them fake dating, all while dealing with grief, the weight of family expectations, and a secret online identity that could ruin everything.

Kill Your Darlings, Yuvashri Harish (Fall 2026)

• YA Horror

• Two teens accidentally unleash the monsters of their favorite horror stories, and the witch who wrote them, on their small town on Halloween night.

The Finalist, Faith Gladwin (Fall 2026)

• Horror

• Seven ballerinas compete in an intense, month-long audition for a legendary solo, inside a cursed manor, and Eden must survive deadly freak accidents, her chronically ill body, and an obsession with her instructor if she wants to walk away with the solo of a lifetime--or her life at all.

The Ungovernable Heart of Miss Darcy, Erin Edwards (Winter 2026)

• Queer Historical Romance

• A queer historical romance set directly after the events of PRIDE AND PREJUDICE, in which Georgiana Darcy finds her own love story.

Admittedly, I’ve made up a convoluted system. It can be difficult to explain. This is primarily because I’m self-taught, so a lot of what I do is A) very personalized to my own needs and B) built off of vibes. But let me try to drill down to the heart of it.

Basically, I work on a lot of projects simultaneously. I’m happiest when I’m multitasking, so being able to jump between projects scratches my brain. The key to successfully balancing this is working on projects at different stages: one novel is being drafted while another is being edited, for instance. One book is on submission, while another is just a twinkling idea in my eye.

This haphazard method works for me! I love having multiple tabs open in my brain! When I get bored with one project, I can hop to another one—and when I get bored with that second one, I can peek in on a third. I’m free!

Now that I’ve graduated (yippee, yippee!) I’m free to spend the first half of the summer writing full-time. I can chat about my current writing schedule another time, but for now, just know that I have more time than I did before, which also explains the extended list of WIPs (work-in-progresses!).

Anyway, with that caveat established, here’s a glimpse at the current motley crew:

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Spring makes me reflect on growth, both the personal and the professional kind. Specifically, it makes me think about the quiet, subtle growth that you only notice when its final form springs on you, unexpected.

See, when I was fifteen years old, I decided I wanted to become a traditionally published author. That’s quite a young age for such a large dream, I’m aware. But I hit the ground running at seventeen when I snagged a spot in a coveted publishing mentorship program called Pitch Wars (which, sadly, no longer exists. RIP Pitch Wars!).

The purpose of this program was to allow new writers to be mentored by traditionally published authors. Over the course of a few months, the new writers would polish their manuscripts and submission packages with the guidance of the mentors, and at the end, their work would be to showcased to agents and editors, in the hopes of landing representation and, soon after, a book deal.

I, personally, didn’t land my agent during that experience. I certainly didn’t get a book deal either. Some could see this as a false start or even a failure. I wasn’t deterred. Even though I didn’t get a book deal, I did get a ton of industry knowledge, connections, and enough confidence that I just might be able to do this in the future—as long as I was tenacious enough. As long as I could stick it through.

A seed had been buried. It didn’t bloom when I thought it would, but I refused to stop watering it.

I didn’t grow up with industry connections or have a family member/teacher/well-connected person who could guide me through the maze that is traditional publishing. (For context, I’m the only person in my immediate family who even enjoys reading.) This isn’t to say that my family hasn’t supported me—they most certainly have—but I had to navigate the quiet rules and industry norms on my own. Every major decision, every course correction, was solely on my shoulders.

So you can imagine my frustration when the book deal didn’t come within that first year. Or the second one. Or the third.

I think the most frustrating thing about traditional publishing is that you never quite know why you aren’t succeeding in the way you want. You could guess, of course. But a lot of rejections from industry gatekeepers feel unspecific. It’s often difficult to draw a meaningful conclusion from their feedback—if you’re lucky enough to get feedback at all.

Is it your prose? Should you tighten up the first act? Maybe your first chapter is bad. Maybe your query is worse. Or maybe it’s market timing—there are too many books like yours on the shelves. Or maybe there’s nothing like it, and there’s no sales record to prove that a book like yours could be successful. Maybe its multiple things at once. Maybe you’re only one decision away from fixing everything.

It’s even more difficult to discern what’s going on if you’re a marginalized author. Like, did you get that rejection from that agent because there actually is something confusing about your main character, or that agent/editor just racist? If your book wasn’t sapphic, would it actually be more successful, or is that your internalized homophobia whispering in your ear?

I think everyone is a little in love with the idea of a career that starts strong and stays strong. The six-figure book deal that you get the day after you go on sub, with the agent you signed after a week of querying. Publishing is rarely so kind.

In reality, there’s often a lot of waiting for planted seeds to sprout, unsure if they ever truly will. Things rarely go as planned. Rainy days are common. And even if your dreams seem to be in reach (you get four offers of representation from agents…) there may be more disappointment down the road (…but your book doesn’t actually sell1). Suddenly you're worrying—what about the next achievement, the next number, the next validation?

It’s easy to wonder if you’ve missed your moment, especially if you’re watching everyone else bloom. But what I’m learning is that a slower pace does not immediately indicate failure. A faster pace does not always mean consistent success. There are too many factors for one single success or failure to set the trajectory of your career.

That’s why I think it’s essential to find joy in the parts of the process we can control. Not because it's easy, but because it’s sustainable. You can’t live for the book boxes, for the bestseller lists, for the blurbs from famous authors. You have to live for those moments late at night, in front of your laptop, when you write a sentence you’re actually proud of. You have to live to daydream, to sketch maps for your worlds, you have to live to storytell.

Personally, my journey was very, very long. Especially if we’re counting from the time I decided to pursue traditional publishing (2017) to when I actually got the deal (2024). I talk more about my debut path over in the Inner Parlour section of this newsletter:

I predict my journey will be even longer still. I love NECROGENESIS, don’t get me wrong, but I am not defined by the success or failure of my debut. I see myself as the culmination of every story I tell—and I want to tell a lot of them.

I love writing. I love storytelling. It is my favorite thing in the world. And I cling to that love and that passion during the difficult and disappointing moments. When things don’t go as planned or as quickly as I’d like, I always have the joy of storytelling.

Are things going well for me now? Absolutely. I love my editors, I love my imprint, and I love NECROGENESIS—I hope you do too, if you choose to read it!

But I know that this industry is unpredictable. The future may not be as bright. But that’s okay, because a writing career is long, nonlinear, winding. It asks you not for perfection, but for patience. For humility. It asks you to remember that the seasons are a cycle, that the dark days of winter soon lead to the colorful days of spring—and that a beautiful, blinding summer eventually gives way to a quiet, golden fall.

Anyway, for now, it is spring. Some plants bloom quickly, and others take their time. In the end, both feel the glorious warmth of sunlight just the same.

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recommendations.

Miyazaki and the Heron. I balled my eyes out to this documentary. Absolutely beautiful, stunning, moving. If you love Ghibli, you need to watch this. The theme of making art out of love probably inspired a lot of this newsletter. Toward the end of the film, Miyazaki says, “If we don’t create, there’s nothing.” What a beautiful north star to guide one’s body of work. I’m so grateful to have seen The Boy and the Heron in theaters.

Next, Lady of the Library’s YouTube channel! Self-described as a “dark, bookish deep dive into literature, history, and philosophy—from the perspective of a PhD student”, I believe you’ll enjoy this channel if you like Lilith’s Muse. I especially enjoyed “Dante’s Hell: A Deep Dive into the Divine Comedy” and “How Books Shape Who We Become”.

The Moon That Turns You Back by Hala Alyan is a poetry collection that I’m still thinking about weeks after finishing it. It explores so many themes: beauty, grief, home, family, legacy, identity, displacement. I took my time with this collection. I think it took me over two months to read through it? I really wanted to let each poem linger, especially the interactive ones.

Any song by Ichiko Aoba, Japanese singer-songwriter with a lullaby-esque voice that is just perfect for spring/early summer. Asleep Among Endives, aurora, meringue doll, Dawn in the Adan, and A Hill of the Moon are some of my favorites. If you like comfy vibes, singers with clear and beautiful voices, and Studio Ghibli, you’ll love her music.

The River Has Roots by Amal El-Mohtar is the debut novel by the co-author of This is How You Lose the Time War! I want to read this SO badly that I’m chewing at the walls. All I know is that it’s about a family that tends to an enchanted forest, and that’s all I need to know. I’ve flipped through a copy at my local indie and I was struck by how beautiful the interior page designs were. Hopefully I’ll get to this one soon.

Finally, we have Kelela’s most recent album, In the Blue Light. It’s a live jazz album recorded at the Blue Notes Jazz Club. Need I say more? This is my first introduction to Kelela, but I’ve read that the performances here are actually re-interpretations of her own songs, which I think is so unbelievably chic. If you like the sort of music that makes you close your eyes and sway, you’ll enjoy this rec. Some of my faves are All the Way Down, Better, Enemy, and Bankhead.

where to find me.

Website: ashiamonet.com

X/Twitter: @ashiamonet

Tiktok and Instagram: @ashiawrites

As the title says, I miss my unemployed era. Back in 2021, the job market was (and, honestly, continues to be) in shambles. When I wasn’t pulling my hair out over job applications and interviews that went nowhere, I spent my time reading, watching films, partying at gay clubs, visiting friends across the east coast, and making art. Specifically, I wrote a ton of books. I was very privileged to be buoyed by familial financial support (and substantial amounts of credit card debt) so I had a lot of freedom.

I felt more like myself then than I feel now. I’m contributing to society by studying for my future career and working as an intern, sure. But back then? Back then, I felt real.

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The old advice of “write every day to be a writer” doesn’t quite work in this era, a time in which capitalism has ballooned to engulf nearly every aspect of life. Most people can’t write every day because we literally cannot afford to. Instead, we have to get creative.

I’ve written about my writing routine before (see below!) but I wanted to update it because a lot of things have changed, including my writing routine itself. Last time I wrote about this, I was in my first (and easiest) semester of grad school. I had a lot of free time and I didn’t have a book deal. I, honestly, only had to answer to myself. Now I have a two-book deal, a revision deadline to meet, and my final semester of school—which means I’m facing graduation plans and working on finding a full-time job.

It’s a lot to balance.

When I was a child with too much free time, I wrote for hours after school and sped through novels. Now, as an adult in school and working part-time in an internship, time is a little more…sparse. If you’re a writer with a day job, or if you have small children (or any other number of responsibilities, honestly), this is a truth you understand quite well.

As a debut author, I’m also facing my first deadline for a novel. Have I had deadlines for short stories? Sure. But a whole novel? That’s a little more anxiety-inducing. People are paying me to have my words done on time, so I’d better have them done on time.

(For anyone curious about the details: my debut sold as an RNR, which stands for “revise and resubmit”. I wrote fifty pages to prove that I could and explained the rest in a synopsis. Essentially, I sold NECROGENESIS on a promise. It’s a deal that says, “if you buy this book, I will write it like this”. Well, the book sold. Now I have to “write it like that” by my deadline.)

I think, in adjusting your routine to fit your needs, you need to think about A) what your needs are and B) what your goals are.

For example, I need to socialize. I’m extroverted! Strange for an author, I know. But I love spending time around friends, meeting new people, and yapping over coffee. Every weekend I need to have at least one social outing to remain sane, but writing is a solitary pursuit. I like to write alone.

What I also know about my writing needs is that I work best in short bursts, with breaks in-between. I can work for about an hour, maybe an hour and a half, but rarely can I work for over two hours straight. I need something to distract me so I can recharge before I return to the page.

My goal is much simpler: finish my book by my deadline.

So, in terms of goals and needs, my goals are to finish revising NECROGENESIS on time. My needs are to socialize, to get outside of my apartment, to have breaks so I don’t burn out.

What I’m currently doing is café hopping on the weekends, as a means to kill two birds with one stone. I wake up in the morning, settle down in one café for about two hours, and then pack up and go on some sort of social adventure. Sometimes it’s shopping, sometimes it’s getting lunch with a friend. And then I find a new café, sit down, work for two hours, and do it all over again.

I’ve tried this for a few weekends now and it’s been both fun and productive—I only consider something a new routine when it ticks both boxes. After all, I don’t see any purpose in doing something productive if you’re miserable the whole time. As I write this, I’m in a cafe and they’re playing Laufey over the speakers. The vibes are excellent. (It’s still cold here in Boston so lingering outside isn’t really an option, but its getting warmer every day. I’m looking forward to writing outside when the weather is kinder.)

And of course, your routine will need to shift and grow as you do. I always talk about this, but knowing your own habits as a writer is so helpful for knowing how to strategize when building a writing routine. What are your current goals? How can you marry them with your needs? Is this plan sustainable? Questions worth pondering, if not questions worth answering.

Maybe someday I’ll be a full-time writer, and maybe someday I’ll be a mother and not just a daughter. Someday I may be a therapist in my own practice and not just a student, an intern, still learning. Life is as strange as it is long. Adaptability and balance are both key. As I grow, my writing will grow with me. It always has. I’m sure your process will too.

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recommendations.

I just brought Gather Me: A Memoir in Praise of the Books That Saved Me by Glory Edem. I was compelled by the title, especially because I, too, have been saved by books time and time again. What’s even more compelling is the fact that the author is the creator of the Well-Read Black Girl book club. I’m really excited to dig into this, especially since it’s been a while since I’ve read a memoir!

In terms of things to watch, I’d like to recommend This is A Robbery on Netflix! I love art thievery! It blends my interests in crime and nerd shit. This documentary covers the 90’s art heist that resulted in some key paintings being stolen from the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum. Who did it? Why? Wouldn’t you like to know? You gotta watch the documentary to find out. I’ve been watching it in the background while I get ready for the day in the mid-afternoons and it’s been captivating!

Next up: Girls by Cat Burns, both the song and the music video. Floaty, sapphic, fun. Burns’s voice is also so addicting. The perfect song to get you in the mood for the approach of spring. It’s an especially good recommendation if you’re hungry for something a little more inclusive than what Lucy Dacus attempted to do with Best Guess (sorry).

Please read Novae. It’s a webcomic I have become obsessed with. It’s a queer romance following a necromancer and the boy he falls in love with (very necromancy-focused vibes going on over here in my brain lately, clearly). I won’t spoil anything else about the story, but the art is absolutely beautiful and the worldbuilding is intricate. I’m officially back on my webcomic kick!

Tis the season for the wardrobe refresh! One of my favorite activities! Does it eat up about an afternoon or so? Yes, but it’s so worth it to actually go through your clothes and figure out what still sparks joy, what still fits, and what can be donated to have a second life somewhere else. Strangely, I tend to hoard clothes despite the fact that I get anxious when I’m surrounded by too much “stuff”. I love an excuse to clear stuff out, especially stuff I don’t reach for regularly.

This Aeon essay by Ellie Robinson about Mary Midgley, a female philosopher who pointed out that many of the great philosophers were bachelors, but was dismissed for this “irrelevant” observation. In the 50’s, Midgley argued that this homogenous identity might have skewed the way modern philosophy has grown (by which I mean, it most definitely did impact it). Interesting stuff!

where to find me.

Website: ashiamonet.com

X/Twitter: @ashiamonet

Tiktok and Instagram: @ashiawrites

I’m not sure where I stand on the “art is a luxury” debate. Artists deserve to be compensated for their time and effort, of course, but I don’t believe that everything needs to be so damn expensive. The price of everything is skyrocketing and, while I want to continue to have some support from my work, I don’t want to be another reason people feel economic distress.

So! New, lower prices are in place for Lilith’s Muse. If this is still too pricey for you, I completely understand and hope you still get a lot of enjoyment from the free monthly posts. If you choose to upgrade to a paid subscription, thank you so much for your support.

Onto business as usual!

See, I used to be insanely active on Twitter back when it was Twitter. At my peak, I amassed a little less than 20,000 followers by shouting my thoughts into the void and getting into heated debates about media representation. (If you’re subscribed to this newsletter, you likely know me from there.) Then something…shifted.

I still don’t know what caused the shift. Perhaps it’s just the nature of getting older. Turning twenty-five rewired the synapses in my brain. Maybe it’s Elon Musk’s fault for driving the app into the ground and then, somehow, burrowing it even deeper. Maybe gatekeeping really is in. Regardless, my enjoyment re: sharing significant parts of my life online has faded.

A lot of people are feeling similarly right now. There are countless newsletters about social media burnout. Everyone is stepping away, or at least trying to.

The social media landscape feels less like a community and more like a living, breathing advertisement. Every post is a desperate ad, every picture a subliminal message. I don’t blame anyone for retreating. After all, I’ve done exactly the same thing.

What I worry about is isolation. Not just for myself, but for everyone.

Americans are entering a political state in which community will be more vital than ever. It is essential that we make connections, that we can trust each other, and that when we call for help our voices can be heard and answered. And yet we are losing some of our most easily accessible connections. Yes, social media is not what it used to be. But we must find new ways to foster community. Our survival depends on it.

Because of my day job (aka my unpaid internship) as a mental health counselor-in-training, I think a lot about resources—connecting people with resources, and being a resource myself. Online, most of the therapy-speak advice tells you to take time for yourself. To prioritize your needs and step away when necessary. And yet one of the best ways to bolster a person’s mental health is to find them an engaging support system: friends, family, colleagues. A community.

It is an interesting time to identify as conflicting things at once. I am both a student and a figure of authority for my patients. I am an author and an aspiring mental health professional. As a marginalized person myself, but one with access to information, knowledge, and connections that others may not have, I often find myself wondering: how do I lower the ladder down behind me?

I don’t miss social media. Within my retreat, I found myself feeling more creative than ever before. I was no longer scrolling timelines for hours upon hours. Those, instead, were hours I could spend reading, or writing, or refilling my creative well by watching new shows and movies and listening to music. I wasn’t angry at strangers anymore, I was peacefully and creatively fulfilled. I was more in conversation with other artists than I had ever been before, despite not saying a word. Primarily because I was—and I’m sorry to say it—actually going outside.

Is finding a local community as easy as scrolling on social media? No, of course not. But is it more rewarding? Well, I’d say yes. A thousand times yes.

So yes, unplug from your social media accounts. But try not to follow that action up by bed rotting in your apartment every weekend. Are there any volunteer groups or clubs aligned with your interests? If you’re reading this newsletter, you’re probably a writer or a reader. Are there local book clubs or writing meetups you could join? If not, could you start one? How about donating old books to your community? Are there writing workshops you could attend? Could you run one? How can you re-invest in the world around you?

I do not make these recommendations lightly. I understand how difficult it can be to decide to go out, to speak to strangers, to risk social rejection if things don’t go so well. But it is an important decision and one that feels, in 2025, incredibly timely.

Personally, I often think about the recommendations of many other artists before me. The expectation that, yes, you should be regularly making art of some kind. But you should also be sharing it. I guess what I’m trying to make peace with, now, is what sharing my art looks like when I’m less active on social media than I used to be.

I love this newsletter because it presents a happy medium: I’m able to share my thoughts as long as I put enough time and effort into crafting a newsletter worth reading. I’m thinking about other ways I can reconnect as well.

The process of writing and publishing a book is long, arduous, and often lonely. But I want to make sure I’m not completely retreating. Stepping back, perhaps, to reassess. To check in with myself and make sure I’m engaging in a way that feels authentic, not just in a way that feeds the algorithm’s insatiable demands.

So! I’ll be around, peeking my head into the social media space whenever I have something to say, or to share, or to reflect on. I’m going to keep sorting through what method of “online” works best for me, at the stage of life I’m at now, instead of trying to endlessly replicate what worked for me in 2017 when I was eighteen years old.

I’m also going to catalog how I engage with my local communities, and I ask that you do the same. Some questions: are you engaging in third spaces like cafes, bookstores, bars, and bowling alleys? Are there any local clubs or classes you could join? How about volunteer work? Do you live near any community gardens, libraries, or YMCAs? Are you keeping engaged with your local government? Where do your lost social media hours go? Do you spend those hours alone in your apartment, only tending to yourself? How can we tend to the gardens that are our local communities? How can we reach out to others, within our own capacity?

For some further thoughts on this topic, I suggest tinysey’s excellent video essay “The New Social Currency is…Being Offline?”. She also talks about how being offline may become a wealth/status symbol in the near future, which is very interesting!

As for reading, I think The Art of Gathering by Priya Parker is a great starting point for anyone interested in hosting offline events that spark joy. (And if you’re reading this newsletter, chances are you enjoy reading, so you can’t say you aren’t interested!)

In conclusion: good luck, log off, go make new friends, and re-engage with the social groups around you.

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recommendations.

This is a recommendation from my TBR but I’m so unbelievably excited about it that I have to talk about it now. Hungerstone by Kat Dunn! Lesbian vampires! Carmilla retelling! Gothic fiction about female desire! Everyone’s been buzzing about this book and I cannot wait to get my hands on it.

Next: I finally watched Meeting the Man: James Baldwin in Paris (1970). I could write a lot about it. But I deeply recommend it. It’s not about Baldwin exploring his work, the way the (white European) filmmakers wanted. It’s about his existence in the world as a Black man. It makes me think about how we have narrowed down the narratives that Black authors are allowed to explore in their work. That we must write to the narrative white gatekeepers approve of us. It’s been true since the day I decided I wanted to be published when I was thirteen, and it’s still true now. You cannot force my voice to speak the words you want to hear. That’s not how it works. And I feel so inspired watching Baldwin push back on their narrative. Again, I highly recommend it.

Blank Street’s matcha daydream latte. I can’t believe I’m speaking positively, publicly, about Blank Street. But I’m obsessed, I’m sorry. I’ve been resisting Blank Street for a long, long time, but I’m fighting a caffeine addiction (thanks grad school!) so I’ve been on the hunt for replacement beverages to sip while I work. Blank Street caught me at a moment of weakness. Unfortunately, the matcha tastes very good. (Also, I mean, if you really think about it, I’m actually the victim here. My taste buds have taken me hostage.)

MUJI pens, as per usual. I’ve talked about them before but they’re genuinely the only pens I’ve been using these days. They sell multiple colors and refills and they write like a dream. There’s nothing not to like. I use the size 0.38 because I have former Catholic schoolgirl illegible cursive handwriting which means I need a finer tip, but they offer a variety of colors and sizes! I mostly use my black, green, and red pens, respectively.

Next: Cursed Bunny by Bora Chung, translated by Anton Hurr. I read it back in January and I’m still thinking about it. I love reading backlist titles. I plan to pick up her more recent collection, Your Utopia, soon (it’s also translated by Anton Hurr!).

I watch a lot of YouTube videos. Like, a concerning amount. Anyway, my favorite video I’ve seen recently is Eddy Burback’s Olive Garden v. Italy, as in, “Can Olive Garden compete with the nation of Italy?” I thought it was silly and heartwarming and good. I love Eddy’s ability to make very simple things feel profound.

where to find me.

Website: ashiamonet.com

X/Twitter: @ashiamonet

Tiktok and Instagram: @ashiawrites