In my NYC Era

Part deux, electric boogaloo

Hello, peekers into my notes app. It’s been a while since I’ve made a post, partially because things have been busy around these parts and partially because I haven’t had much tea to spill. But I’m moving to New York after four (gasp) years away, and naturally I am feeling sentimental. New York has been one of my greatest inspirations when it comes to authoring—no matter the manuscript, I always wind up writing it as a character, trying to get it right, while simultaneously only barely scratching the surface.

When I left New York, we weren’t on the best terms. Covid changed the very way we lived our lives, and I found myself completely shuttered in, cooped up, and craving space. New York’s size, volume, and vastness can be suffocating if you’re not in a place to step into the open air—and in 2020, I wasn’t. So I packed up, slipped away in the night like a jilted lover, and stayed on the outside looking in. I’d never intended to live four whole years upstate, but the time was so well spent that I found myself delaying my move back to New York over and over again. I wrote a book. I wrote another book. I laughed with my family. I said goodbye to my childhood dog and welcomed a new one. I wrote another book. I worked at a taco shop. I reconnected with my hometown. I gave up my dream of being on Broadway. I took a college course. I got two tattoos. I got a third. My life now is nearly unrecognizable to what it was before I packed my bag and left the city.

I’ve been looking at this period of my life as a pause—an inhale of fresh air disrupting my “real” life. But as I reflect on this essential time of growth, I know that it was the most real my life has ever been. It was simply different from what I expected. It didn’t go according to plan, but without a break in the plan, I would not have a book coming out in 2025. A book about missing New York City deeply while simultaneously wondering if you’re really cut out to be there.

I would be remiss not to mention the elephant in the room on this topic—when I left New York, I left it in a Trump presidency. I now return under a Trump presidency. It feels like a strange form of time travel—a step meant to launch me into the future but feels like plummeting into the past. I have been home for nearly an entire presidential term—a term during which I felt safe, coddled, and free to create art that felt good. That was fun. I’ve never been an author under a Trump presidency, and I find myself wondering how I’m going to do it. How can I write a lighthearted rom-com set in a world that is inherently political? That has institutional inequity, racism, sexism, xenophobia, homophobia, and transphobia baked into its very fabric? Can we ever escape these demons, even in our imaginary worlds tucked between pages? Is the purpose of art escapism? Or is it a way for us to reckon with reality? Which do I want it to be? I don’t know the answer, and I truly find myself at a loss. But I do know one thing—I won’t stop reading. I won’t stop writing warm stories about good people finding love and joy. And I won’t stop fighting for justice. We cannot stop trying—whether it’s art, science, politics, activism, or just love. We cannot halt the output. If we do, they win.

If you are a follower of this newsletter who voted for Donald Trump in this election, please know that I do not hate you. But let me be very clear—I believe this was a mistake. One that will put many vulnerable Americans at serious risk in many, many ways. I would love to be wrong about this, but right now, I am very fearful for my country and for the planet.

To everyone who is hurting right now, know that I am too. I wish I could say we will be okay, but I do not know that to be true. What I do know is that the sun will set, the sun will rise, and time will continue to tick forward. It is my greatest hope that we all will be able to survive the dark, make the most of every excruciating movement of the hands on the clock, and fight to flourish in the light of day.

I’d like to share a poem I wrote back when I first moved to New York—it was in response to a tragedy that I unfortunately do not recall the details of because there are sadly far too many. I revisited this poem during Covid, and I revisit it now on the eve of my move back, when things feel so dark.

I don’t know how I’m going to feel being back. I’m both excited and terrified. No matter what happens, I’m sure I’ll let you all know about it. I can’t help myself. I love a keyboard and a captive audience.

Till then, please take good care of yourselves. The world needs more bleeding hearts—please do not close yours off because it’s been wounded.

Your long-winded friend,
London

P.S. Care for some book recs?

• You Between the Lines by Katie Naymon for anyone who loves literary bad boys, pining so palpable you’ll squirm in your seat, and lush, beautiful writing (This book comes out in February but you should preorder it now)(🌶)

• Wedding Dashers by Heather McBreen for anyone who loves laugh out loud, sexy rom-coms that spear you in the heart with their poignance and pure joy (This book comes out in January but you should preorder it now)(🌶)

• The Wedding People by Alison Espach for a truly buoyant exploration of mental health, reaching out your hand to a stranger in the dark, finding peace, and eventually, contentment—with lots of belly laughs along the way.

And I’m very excited to dive into the January romance debuts. Here is a list of books you should add to your personal TBRs for the new year. Preorder them and make sure they are ushered into an uncertain world with kind, loving hands and open hearts.

• For One Night Only by Jessica James

• Unromance by Erin Connor

• Let’s Call A Truce by Amy Buchanan

• Single Player by Tara Tai

• A Lady Would Know Better by Emma Theriault

• Work In Progress by Kat Mackenzie

• Playing Flirty by Shameez Patel