What Took Me So Long?
The Family Plan #86.5
When I pressed pause on this meal-planning newsletter in July 2021, I thought I’d return after a few months, a quick reset. Four freaking years later, I’m back.
So, how have you been?
I’ve rewritten this next bit roughly one thousand times, because I don’t want to go there. By which I mean: Too often lately, I wind up cowering in a corner, knees clutched to my chest (as much as my arthritis will let me; jeez I’ve aged). See, even after all those rewrites, I still go dark as soon as I start to think about the world now, compared to four years ago.
ANYway, let’s not dwell on that. Here’s where my life is these days:
Kiddo is no longer a kid (maybe I need to start calling him “adulto”?). He’s finishing up a gap year—he graduated high school in 2024, but stayed home to finish, um, cooking. Community college + part-time job = significantly more responsible young man, with money in the bank for the upcoming school year. Six weeks from now, we’ll be taking him to college! Before you ask: Yes, he’s still super-picky, almost as bad as he was when I wrote about it for the New York Times in 2013. But there are flashes of promise, reasons for optimism. At almost 19 (WHAT THAT IS NOT POSSIBLE) he’s largely self-sufficient when it comes to food, capable of cooking a variety of things to his own specifications. This summer he’s been teaching himself to smoke a whole brisket. He actually loves food, as long as it’s done his way. You may have gathered, he’s neurospicy.
I know, I know, I led with my kid and not myself. Sigh. But I have news, too! The novel I mentioned in my one interim newsletter in 2022? I just finished the fifth draft, after workshopping it in summer programs at the University of Iowa, the Kenyon Review, and Yale University—I’m a poster girl of sorts for Yale’s program, star of a promo video on their homepage. At last, I’m taking my fiction seriously. This is what I majored in, more than 35 years ago. The manuscript is out with readers now and I’m feeling pretty good about it. If it’s well-received, I’ll begin the daunting hunt for an agent in the fall. And I’ve started work on novel #2, about a fiftysomething woman who grew up Jewish in remote coastal Maine.
On the flip side, work-work is downright scary. (Here comes the part where I cower in a corner…) Ask any freelance writer how they’re doing right now, and you’re almost guaranteed to get some variation on “horrible, thanks.” Thanks to budget cuts, AI, and the general economic climate, work has become harder to secure. I recently learned that my last remaining anchor client, for whom I’ve worked every week since 2016, is taking everything in-house at the end of the summer. The bedrock of my business is about to vanish. Meanwhile, every writer I know is experiencing something similar. I’ve had a successful, 20-year career as a freelance writer, and for the first time since my early days, I’m not sure I’ll have enough reliable income to help pay our bills. I’m writing this from a long-planned vacation in Maine, normally my happy place, and even here I’m wide awake at 3AM, wondering how we’re going to pay for the dinner I just put on a credit card.
My husband, thank god, has a full-time job, through which we buy health insurance. But he also works in a creative field, and the tanking economy has hit his company, too. He’s doing more work with fewer people. In the weeks leading up to our vacation, it wasn’t unusual for him to get home after 10PM. That man is tired. I’m experiencing all kinds of guilt that I’m not working very hard—I can’t, since I literally don’t have the work—while he’s swamped.
And finally, my dad, who just turned 87, had some serious health issues two summers ago, and we wound up moving him from the suburban apartment I grew up in, where he lived for 50+ years, to an assisted living facility near-ish to me in Queens. He’s doing a lot better living among other people, but he’s been in and out of the hospital. As the only daughter (I’m one of 4 kids), I’m pretty sure you can guess who gets the phone calls when things go wrong. Not complaining, of course. I’m lucky to have a father who still recognizes me, and my brothers are all in the area. But at times, it’s a lot. I bet some of you are going through something similar.
That bullet about my lack of work is one reason I’m in your in-box. Now that I have time, I’m resurrecting The Family Plan! You’ll be getting all-new interlocking meal plans, my food Tetris, starting in early August. Initially, at least, there will be no paywall—I just want to hang out with you all, get back into the swing of things.* But if you’re excited to see me, perhaps you’ll choose to pay for a subscription anyway. Bills, man.
As it was before, the weekly menu will always be free. You’ll know which recipes to use without having to plan it yourself, and you’ll make intentional leftovers to repurpose for a subsequent dinner. You’ll save time and, I’m pretty sure, plenty of money, since you won’t be wasting as much food.
A surprising number of you signed up after I put The Family Plan on pause—as recently as last week—so this is the first fresh installment to reach your inbox. To you, I say welcome! And also, I love that you signed up for a newsletter with no expectation of ever receiving one.
A few weeks ago I dipped a toe into Substack’s chat section, which didn’t exist back when I hit the pause button. I’d love to interact with you, to hear what you’re worried about. You can always comment here, too, of course. How can I help? What are your current challenges, when it comes to getting dinner on the table without pulling your hair out?
That’s all for now, folks. Watch for me to hit your inbox weekly, starting in August.
Stay safe, be kind, and I’ll see you soon.
Debbie
* If you were a paid subscriber before, Substack will not resume charging you immediately. At least, it’s not supposed to. Should that happen and you’re no longer interested in paying or no longer in a position to do so, go right ahead and cancel immediately. I’ll make sure you get your money back.
5yo and 1yo here, would LOVE to read about ways to get kids involved in cooking without making everyone miserable. So far, quiche and muffins are the winners... we have a goal of hosting more families for dinner as well so food to feed a crowd is on my mind!
Welcome back, nice to read your thoughts! I’m *write*there with you.. how the business has changed…NOT in our favor, either, sadly. Best of luck with your new endeavors!