Introducing Othertongue (formerly LMH in your Inbox)
an in-progress investigation into modern life
You are receiving this newsletter because you were a subscriber of LMH in your Inbox. Today, I’m relaunching the newsletter with a new name and new direction.
Last March, in the final dispatch from LMH in your Inbox—the Substack that I started in December 2019—I quoted Stephen King’s adage from his excellent book, On Writing. “Write with the door closed,” he says, which means to write without other people in mind. That is what I said I was going to do.
Reader, I wrote nothing.
It’s been nearly a year since I sent that email and much has happened, but words on page? Draft 3 of my novel? Other goals I had? None achieved. (I did meet and marry a wonderful man and have spent quite a bit of time in Greece, but those stories aren’t what I’m here to tell.)
“Change is hard” is a cliché for a reason. After many years after saying “I won’t write about food anymore,” I still make most of my income from writing about food. Granted, it’s now all unbylined (aka ghostwritten), but when I say I didn’t write in the past year, what I mean is that I didn’t write anything that was for me. On the other hand, if you’re looking for 1,000 words on how a pepper mill works and why you should buy one, I’m your gal.
But I don’t want to be your gal! At least not when it comes to food. What is the route out? The route out is starting.
I’ve spent years learning about non-food topics in my spare time, telling myself that the learning was enough. A stack of books that takes up precious room in my suitcase as my husband, Kevin, and I have been living nomadically between the US, the UK, and Europe. During the past few months in particular, I’ve focused on tackling academic texts that are related to the things I want to write about—sociology, cultural studies, philosophy—accruing notes and running pens dry with annotations. I didn’t study these disciplines in college, but they are what interest me now, at 35. In the belief that I need to be well-prepared to write about the things I’m interested in, I’ve holed myself up, flipping back and forth between the pages of the Oxford Dictionary of Philosophy while attempting to unlock the meaning in the fifth (literally, fifth!) paragraph of Robert Hullot-Kentor’s translator’s introduction to Theodor Adorno’s Aesthetic Theory. If I just read one more book, I’d think, then I’ll be ready to write about this. I’ll just listen to another podcast explaining Pierre Bourdieu’s work and then I can begin. This is how I’ve gotten to 13 months without writing.
Crucial advice appeared last month from Kevin when he forwarded me a newsletter from Mark Manson. His included note was, simply, “timely.” I knew which part of the email he wanted me to see. It said: “‘Learning more’ is the most seductive form of procrastination. ‘Planning more’ is the second most.”
Caught!
If I could stretch out time indefinitely, I’d read every article, every book, interview every expert—you get the drift—before sending out my first newsletter. Unfortunately, time cannot be stretched out, or at least the construct cannot be modified adequately in this version of consciousness/existence. That’s why Kevin’s note of “timely” was as important of advice as any.
Maybe, I thought, there’s a happy medium between learning “everything” before writing and an ill-informed, surface-level approach to what interests me. Maybe that could be the newsletter: a tracked evolution of my thinking as I research, an annotated bibliography of sorts, a place to communicate with other readers who are interested in the same things.
Much of my identity has congealed around my intelligence (my insecurities equally so). I’ve never been much for collective ideas of “cool” or trends, but if there’s one thing that made me feel cool, it is knowing things. So, admitting publicly that I don’t understand things feels wrong. This bind can feel unsurmountable, but, since I’ve agreed not to wait until I know “everything” to write, it’s my ego that has to be struck down. Then a few weeks ago, I read a newsletter from the writer Sarah Elaine Smith about how coolness and sharing openly can seem diametrically opposed. She wrote:
“Part of me still really doesn’t want to tell you any of this. The same part that thinks I would rather be cool than loved, that thinks I’ve somehow been given a different set of rules than other people. So maybe I begin to solve the puzzle this way, by saying what I would love to hide.”
I can’t think of a better directive mantra for Othertongue: I’ll say what I would love to hide.
Here’s what Othertongue is going to be about (for now):
Continued personal writing and recommendations: If you enjoyed LMH in your Inbox, you’ll still receive similar posts.
Topics that excite me!: Things I’m thinking about right now include: using the philosophy of aesthetics to assess the rise in fake plants in commercial decor, examining the connection between language and nationalism, creativity and AI, and whether the parasocial relationships people have with celebrities and other public figures is causing individuals to use social media as though they are celebrities (and thus causing “real” relationships to atrophy). Eventually, I want to write about the Oxford comma, how language is related to a desire for order and meaning, and whether good grammar matters, too. Much of what I want to do is to use writing to make things like sociology, philosophy, linguistics, and cultural theory feel less opaque for me (and hopefully for you, too). Only then can I use these disciplines to answer questions I have about modern life.
Documenting my research as I learn: Rather than wait to synthesize my research exclusively into long-form essays, I’ll be sending regular newsletters. Postcards from the route, if you will. I imagine these will function as an annotated bibliography, with links to videos I’ve watched, newsletters and articles I’ve read, and notes from the books I’m working through. Though I may group these thematically, they’ll likely be more of a grab bag, held together by the fact that they interest me enough to share.
Cold takes: I’m a slow thinker, which is anathema to the hot take culture that much of media preferences. Two of my goals with Othertongue are to translating dense, complex topics into clear, readable prose and to use academic tools to understand contemporary culture and other questions I have. All this means that I often want to write about something months after it’s culturally “relevant.” (Eye roll to the concept of cultural relevance, anyway.)
Eventual, longer essays: Othertongue won’t just be a chaotic notebook. Eventually, I will yoke the disparate threads into long-form essays.
Community: My hope is that sharing my research as it unfolds will inspire some of you to read alongside me and share your thoughts.
That’s all for now. I’m excited for you to join me as I set out on this learning journey.
One piece of housekeeping: I am keeping this newsletter free while I adjust to the new format. In a few months or so, I’ll turn on a paywall. Until then, there is an option to pledge your support via a monthly or annual subscription. You won’t get charged now, but rather when I turn paid subscriptions on. Tracking promised monetary support is one way I can justify spending time on this writing, so if you do decide to pledge, I am very grateful.
Thanks for reading.
If you want to send me a note, you can just reply to this email or click “leave a comment” below. I’ll be back soon with some thoughts about the fantasy of community (plus recommendations), and the weekly annotated bibliography posts will start next week.
Written to the soundtrack of Sunset by Caroline Polachek on repeat. It’s a delightful, sonic pastiche with White Lotus-esque vocals that appear midway through.