In our early days of parenting, a new dynamic emerged—a dynamic of negotiation. My love and I bartered for more sleep and alone time, time to create and time to work. All the intangibles became scarce, and we had to figure out how to share them. 

It was challenging to convince myself my writing was worth commandeering the family’s hours. My consulting work, sure. It made sense that I would “get” that time and my partner would care for our baby then—for that work paid dollars today, a tangible and sure resource we’d put in the family pocket. But writing was different. There was no guarantee my words would ever be published, let alone make any money. This collection is my exploration of the resources needed to make one piece of art, let alone a body of work over the course of a life, and the cost, both personal and cultural, of not making that work. 

I thought if we could see the exchanges we were having not as insular and one-off, but part of a larger, gendered, and historied pattern we’d be able to hold ourselves differently within them. We’d know that changing the dynamic in our minds and our homes was a meaningful step toward changing the dynamic culturally. 

I hope the stories of these women help to carve space for the art you’re meant to make.

with love,
chelsea

an excerpt from

I N H E R O W N R I G H T

She asked us what we were taught about Sylvia Plath. No one hesitated: crazy, suicidal, an unfit mother. They recite it to us in the rooms we’re meant to learn in: Here is what women have been. Here is what women are. (Can you feel your smallness? Have I done my job?) 

Do you want to know the true story of Sylvia? She was prescribed a medicine, illegal now, that altered her mental state. She realized what was happening before it was too late and got off the medication. Years later, needing a prescription again, her doctor ignored her when she said, It can’t be this one. Anything but this one. He gave her that one. She did not survive it. 

She had us raise our right hands, hundreds of women together, as we swore: I will tell the true story of Sylvia Plath to everyone I meet. She said she was recruiting an army to correct the record. She reminded us stories determine who we call crazy and who we call genius.