Hi Reader,

My best friend is moving away, and I’m sad.

I’ve spent the last week at her house. Every morning, I get our favorite bagels from the bagel shop down the road. Every night, her four-year-old daughter and I spread my sheets on the couch and tuck our dolls into bed. (Right now, as I write this, said four-year-old is sitting next to me, munching on a bagel and spreading crumbs all over my couch-bed.)

Around the third time I extended my visit rather than driving home, I finally acknowledged the truth: I don’t want to leave. I know that when I leave, it will be for the last time, and I can’t face that.

The big sads make it hard to work. I’m not sure what to do with my day besides have tea parties with littles and watch Buffy the Vampire Slayer with my best friend (we’ve been trying to finish the show since 2020).

And yet, the work continues. There are stories to edit, writers to coach, emails to send.

I can’t leave my best friend’s house. I care too much.

And I can’t walk away from the work. I care too much.

So how do I hold both things at once, when they feel like two opposing magnets pushing each other apart?

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At the end of 2022, I launched my editing business. Before that, I’d spent six and a half years working at a writing company.

I knew it was time to go out on my own. Even so, I worried I might hate it once I did.

What I’d miss most was my coworkers. The collaboration of working together with other brilliant book people who’d become my friends. I worried that the isolation would get to me, that I’d be lonely and adrift.

Luckily, by that time, I’d built a robust network through various writing communities and certifications. So when I decided to launch, the very first thing I did was to reach out to every editor and book coach I knew.

Two of those coaches were Kim Kessler and Brannan Sirratt.

We’d met years before in Story Grid editor certification. Kim and Brannan were already collaborating extensively. They were coworking on Zoom, they were building shared projects together, and they’d even moved next door to one another. I joke that they’re forming an editor commune in Arkansas.

As soon as I reached out, they folded me into their collective. I joined the Zoom sprints, the business visioning, the dreaming and planning and working together.

So by the time I set out on my own, I already had coworkers. Colleagues. Collaborators. Co-conspirators.

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I’m writing this email because Brannan told me to write it.

I sat down at my computer this morning totally adrift. All I see when I look around is a house I’ll never see again. Children who will be so much bigger the next time I visit. A trip that will require a plane ticket, not just a few hours on the highway.

How do I write? How do I work?

I work because my community supports me. I write because Brannan talked me through my big feels and helped me find my words.

The loss I feel is one of community. One of my most important people is going far away from me.

And the salve, too, is community. I persevere because the people I’ve surrounded myself with help me find the way.

I have never done this alone. Not for one minute. And I wouldn’t want to.

I was right to worry that without coworkers, I would fall.

So Brannan and Kim and I built the community we need to thrive.

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This goes for writers, too.

You don’t need a big life change in order to feel adrift in your writing. The task of translating a story from your imagination to the page is plenty big enough for overwhelm.

And yet, there’s this ethos of rugged individualism among the writing world. There’s an insidious message that you should work harder, learn more, write better, and then you’ll create the books you dream of.

I don’t think that’s it.

I think the truth is, writers need community support too.

Someone to value the stories you value.

Someone to solve the puzzle of your story alongside you.

Someone to sit with you in the big feels that are keeping you from writing, and to help you find your words again.

So Kim and I built what we want to see in the writing world.

We call it Novel Atelier: radically collaborative revision mentorship for writers pursuing creative authenticity and excellence.

In this conversation with Brannan, we share what we built and why.

In other words: what decades in the writing industry have taught us writers really need in order to finish the creative projects you care about.

​Watch or listen to the conversation here »​

I don’t have to create alone.

And neither do you.

Happy editing,

Alice

P.S. If you’re craving this kind of support in your writing, Kim and I would love to be your people and help you bring your story to life. Hit reply with the word “community” and I’ll send you all the details about Novel Atelier.
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