how the NYT forced me out of the broom closet

a 2023 retrospective & 2024 year ahead

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This is not your typical retrospective. Not your typical “this is what the year looked like, and this is what’s coming soon.”

It’s a story and a song, and if it’s not your thing, that’s okay.

But if you’ve been riding with me for a while. If you’ve also had A Year. If you’ve also been divesting from the expectations and hopes of the literary establishment. If you are also looking for more Spirit in your creativity.

Take my hand.

Our story starts with the New York Times

In the first week of 2023, a few months after my first book came out, I was profiled in the Paper of Record, which is to say the New York Times.

Notably — and this would set the theme of reckoning for the year — I was profiled primarily for my work as an astrologer, not as an author, and not in the Arts & Culture section, but rather, in the local, New York section of the paper, as part of a series of what local artists and creators do for their Sunday Routine.

This newsletter — which is approaching its 5th (!!) birthday — was the reason the interviewer had reached out in the first place, and it was just as much a focus of the profile as my memoir, Heretic.

Let’s be real: I don’t know an author who, however critical of the establishment and even of the paper, doesn’t dream of getting featured in the New York Times. Of having their book reviewed (preferably favorably). Of making that year end Top 100 list. Of getting a coveted interview.

I got an entire one-page spread — but at the time, though I was publicly grateful, I privately had a chip on my shoulder, because I felt like the profile had nothing to do with my writing. Or at least, the “literary” aspirations I was clearly still divesting from.

admittedly i did not have kissing my girlfriend in the paper of record on any bingo card, and that is very cool

I was ignoring the fact that the Times had cleared my profile precisely because of the unique intersection of writing and spirituality that is at the heart of my work — something that was not only visible but valuable to everyone but me, still trapped in the desire for the “right” kind of literary or academic acclaim.

They led with astrologer, I said to my partner Meg the day it came out. How an astrologer spends her days.

Well, babe, you are one? was her kind but firm response.

The discomfort I felt over that single (digital) headline heralded an entire year of unpacking why, even though I wrote an entire book about leaving Christianity and pursuing a more animist spirituality, why I had leaned into astrology as a full-time career, I still felt A Way about leading with and leaning into Spirit. (You are so protected, the Times’ photographer, Michelle, told me throughout the entire day we spent together.)

That very uncomfortable journey led to a lot of processing of feelings I didn’t know I was still harboring:

• Grief for academic accomplishment and acclaim, for the PhD I will never have —

• The grief around the Harper strike, for the book launch that wasn’t, and also more generally, the frustration with the machinations of an industry that picks the winners in advance —

• Anger, too, at the ideas of what constitutes “professionalism” and “respectability” and “literary” —

And realizing just how much of myself I had been holding back, for fear of not being taken seriously by the literary establishment, by all of the writers and publishing professionals I know read this newsletter.

It was wild, to realize that in spite of just having written a memoir about breaking free from one institution (the church), I had so quickly committed myself to following the rules of another in the hopes of having them accept me — knowing full well that rule-following never gets you anywhere.

I finally hit a point, unsurprisingly around the Venus Retrograde (and the cloister) this summer, where I just was like, fuck it. Who even cares what they think, anyway. What do I possibly have to lose?

This is all to say,

You may have noticed that things are witchier around here these days.

Whether it was talking book deal spells or the weird Full Moon in Pisces story or the witchcraft syllabus on the Venus Rx cloister, or the more explicit conversations we’ve had here this year about how animism informs my astrological practice, it turns out that y’all didn’t shrink away from that openness.

For which I am so grateful.

That reckoning with who I am and what I’m about over the summer pushed me to invest even more in the newsletter here. You may have noticed that we’re doing two newsletters a week now; there’s been a significant increase now that I’ve finally owned that this is what I do and what I’m about.

I’m also writing more personal material than I have in a long time, like how to walk away from a book and six things I’ve learned in the year since my first book came out, but also how to (not) talk to your family about your writing.

And here’s the thing: when you get vulnerable, other people come with you

I learned this more than a decade ago when I left the church, left my marriage, and came out: when you get vulnerable and get courageous, other people feel empowered to do the same.

Did I mention that this has been a year of re-learning old lessons?

Far from turning away, so many of you wanted a place to further the conversation about astrology, about witchcraft, about how to integrate those things into your everyday lives beyond this newsletter. And with the collapse of so much social media this year — including my longstanding favorite, Twitter (RIP) — I decided to take a leap and open a Discord for paid subscribers. And we did it, y’all. We started a Discord community! (what is Discord? learn more here)

I say we because there would not be a thriving, active community without all y’all’s vulnerability, curiosity, and commitment to community building. Honestly, the AFW Discord has taken the place of Twitter in my life — except it’s so much better?

our own little sacred cloister

Getting to know so many of you so much better and really begin to build deeper relationships has easily been one of the biggest gifts of 2023. 

The Discord, which has about 125 paid subscribers, has been a place for radical transparency and vulnerability. It’s been a place for me to try out being more open about witchcraft and my own personal spiritual practices in “public,” as it were. And that has, at times, been frightening. But it’s also been a reminder that real community doesn’t happen without active and radical participation.

Fear of judgment and “losing” their audience keeps so many artists locked up tight in an isolating ivory tower of their own making.

And while I do believe that boundaries are essential (of course), and that everyone isn’t entitled to know everything about someone’s business or personal practice, I also believe that there’s only so far a relationship can go — there’s only so much trust that can be built — if there’s a lot of distance.

Because I do relationship. That’s what I’m about here: in the Discord, in the containers (like Showing Up for the Work).

Call it a byproduct of my fundamentalist evangelical upbringing. Guru mentality, the hero worship of a(n often beautiful, aesthetically coherent) creator who “seems” to have it all together is toxic and ultimately separates us from the people our art is for.

I believe that we are in relationship with the world around us. With the planets. With the land. With each other. You and me: writer and reader. That ethos is central to everything here.

On that note, what a gift it was to cloister and show up with you

On the heels of that mid-year come to Jesus, I decided to start rolling out some decidedly non-“class,” non-hierarchical offerings, but rather, structured experiences — or, as I call them, containers — which make space for that blend of spiritual and creative exploration.

We did two in the back half of 2023, and they were both a fucking success. One (the first cohort of Showing Up to the Work) was oriented towards external production; the other (the cloister for the Venus Retrograde) more so towards internal creative processing.

A number of Showing Up to the Work participants finished their drafts, outlines, or other major final revisions; folks also made strides in their relationship towards their own creativity and routines. I am, honestly, so proud and so grateful to have been able to offer the right space for that to be possible. In a different vein, it was an honor and a privilege to get to witness the transformation of people’s relationship to themselves as artists in the Roses & Thorns cloister for the Venus Retrograde this summer. 

Getting to support other people’s work as they unpack the expectations of capitalism and re-form their aesthetic commitments is one of my greatest joys. One of my most deeply held convictions is that a rising tide lifts all boats. We are not in competition with each other; we are in community. 

So let’s talk about what’s coming in 2024

More witchcraft content: in both the newsletter and in containers & workshops.

Especially around basics! The Enchanting Your Writing workshop will be Sunday, January 28th from 1-3pm Eastern. 

A new monthly column, Ask Jeanna

For the 101 (and 201) questions about astrology, spirituality, writing, and/or traditional publishing that you want a long-form answer to! These questions are coming exclusively from the folks in the astrology for writers Discord server (which paid subscribers can join). 

More long-form essays. In Q1: a new essay series, The Planets as Fairy Tale Characters.

The brainchild of long flights to Texas for the holiday, so, thank you, United Airlines (said no one ever).

More author interviews!

First up this year (this month, in fact): a conversation with my dear friend

lyz

, whose brilliant memoir This American Ex-Wife is coming to a bookstore near you very, very soon. 

(Folks who are new: you can always read the archive of interviews and find so much rich writing and publishing wisdom from Esmé Weijun Wang, Melissa Febos, Mecca Woods, Leah Johnson, and so many more!)

There are also some forthcoming things that I cannot publicly disclose yet, but am very, very excited to share with you.

If you’re still reading (you champ).

The New York Times often gets it wrong. But the first lines in my profile, they got very, very right.

“Jeanna Kadlec is a believer. She believes in the supernatural and in paying attention when an idea hits you.”

Spot on.

If that sounds like you, too.

If you are also a believer — even if you aren’t sure what kind.

If you believe there is something more to life, to this world, than what your five senses tell you.

If you simply believe in paying attention when an idea hits you.

Thank you for being here. Thank you for reading this newsletter, and for giving me some of your precious time. I’ll see you soon.

---

A benediction:

Isn’t it plain the sheets of moss, except that
they have no tongues, could lecture
all day if they wanted about

spiritual patience? Isn’t it clear
the black oaks along the path are standing
as though they were the most fragile of flowers?

Every morning I walk like this around
the pond, thinking: if the doors of my heart
ever close, I am as good as dead.

Every morning, so far, I’m alive. And now
the crows break off from the rest of the darkness
and burst up into the sky—as though

all night they had thought of what they would like
their lives to be, and imagined
their strong, thick wings.

— Mary Oliver, “Landscape”