The Incompletionist: When It Rains, It Pours
Entry 002
May is finally ending, and I’m quite tired. This entry in the series will still cover the books I have opened and what I have gained from them, but this one one will also double as an update from me.
The first full week of this month began with a burst pipe that sent water pouring into my apartment. I managed to write an essay to stay awake in my all-night vigil, but after that I didn’t make much progress in the drafts I have for Substack or my manuscript.
After catching the water pouring from my ceiling into my bucket, pots, and jars for eight hours, maintenance finally arrived to fix the issue. It turned out that the pipe that burst was simply old and gave out. They replaced the pipe, sprayed anti-mold spray into the two large holes created in my walls to reach everything, and said that they’d be back to fix it once it dries out in a few days.
A few days turned out to be two weeks.
Having two gaping holes in your apartment, one in the kitchen and one in the bathroom, makes for a poor writing environment. Nothing crawled out of the holes, but there was something disquieting about having openings in my home that weren’t supposed to be there. The rent immediately felt more exploitative. The compromises I made with the limitations of my small apartment were completely undone. Things were no longer in their proper place and my usual routines were diverted. Nothing seemed right, and the horrors of the world and the people burning within it had little diversion from occupying my mind. What was once a home felt like temporary shelter.1
The holes were eventually sealed right after I politely threatened to withhold June’s rent. After cleaning up the dusty mess the repairs left behind, I finally began the slow process of returning back to normalcy. As awful as that experience was, I was still able to enjoy nice things, like going to Balticon for the first time.
Balticon was my first convention where everything felt more centered towards the creators than the consumers, and it was wonderful! I met some cool writers and editors at a horror writers’ meetup, and got to see a good friend of mine. This was the first event I’ve gone to where I actually wanted to make connections with folks on a professional basis. I have gone to events to “network” before, but they were all for fields and careers in which I had no interest or future. I would put on a smile and grit my teeth through forced interactions, doing my best to avoid giving people any way of reaching me afterwards. Balticon was different.
I left that event excited about the connections I made and looked forward to keeping in touch. While I’ve been writing and editing for a while now, only since last year have I pushed myself to be seen by others. After a lot of effort and growth, I could enter a space of other professionals within the publishing industry and feel like I belonged. After last weekend, I want to find more opportunities to be in company with other industry professionals so I can learn more about what it takes to grow as a writer, editor, and ultimately create my own indie press.
I also came away from that event with a renewed desire to increase my reading time. I’m still working my way through the books from last month, but I added one more to help me build a central character for a serial novel I’m preparing for this newsletter.
Research: Non-Fiction
Pimp: The Story of My Life by Robert “Iceberg Slim” Beck
Clearly, the character I’m working on isn’t a great person. I want to read a couple of well-known pieces of American literature that were particularly Machiavellian in its descriptions (and instruction) on how Black people have been manipulated to their own demise.
Pimp: The Story of My Life is a text within Black popular culture2 that has stood the text of time, eventually (and ironically) mythologizing Robert “Iceberg Slim” Beck and pimps in general. A pimp is the ultimate capitalist, whose exploitation of labor and life is only rivaled by the slave master. I’m hoping this memoir can give me insight on someone who embodies the Machiavellian exploitation of others through manipulation and violence.
And that is all for now. Since I don’t have a wide selection of books to share this time around, here’s a piece of history archived on YouTube for your viewing pleasure: two literary juggernauts having a good time in each other’s company. We cannot forget that a lot of great Black writers did not write in isolation, but in community.
As always, thank you for reading, and I hope to share more with you soon!
Read more from Queen’s Muse!
This actually was the second leak to happen from my ceiling in the past twelve months, except it was from a sealed panel above my closet the first time. When the panel was removed, it revealed a haphazardly created hole in the ceiling, likely from the last time that pipe began to leak before I moved in during the pandemic. I was told by maintenance after they stopped the leak that they’d be back to finish the work on the pipes. When they returned, they simply repaired the part of the ceiling that had been damaged and resealed the panel over the haphazard hole.
While creating a singular Black American Canon is a fools errand, Pimp needs to be included somewhere for its significance as an historical artifact.
To this day, I haven’t been able to stomach Iceberg’s Pimp. I never can finish it. Despite the setbacks, the intentionality you had while navigating your goals is what stuck out.