I’ve made good on my promise that this newsletter would be occasional. It’s been so occasional you might have even forgotten you signed up. Surprise! Hello! As always, you’re welcome to unsubscribe below. If you hang in, I’ll be writing slightly more often than once a year. Probably. I mean. We’ll see. —LAC
Dear Friends,
The last year and change has been chockablock with transitions. I moved to Vermont for a teaching fellowship at Bennington College, then moved to Seattle to start work as director of programs for Image. I managed a precious week off the grid in West Texas where I put the finishing touches on my MFA thesis. And then I went back to Vermont to deliver my graduate reading and lecture on fat creative nonfiction, and also don a cap and gown to graduate from the Bennington Writing Seminars.
And as of earlier this week, it’s website-official: I’ve got an agent! Anna Stein at ICM Partners. Anna is a rock star in my world and it’s still a little hard to believe I’m on her roster alongside the likes of Jamie Quatro, Garth Greenwell, Ben Lerner, Maria Semple, Brian Blanchfield, Molly McCully Brown, and Hanya Yanagihara. See for yourself!

What’s next? I’m working with Anna to develop a book proposal based on my MFA thesis that she’ll then shop to publishers. I still have a lot of work to do, but if you squint, you can almost see a book on the horizon.
After writing mostly for myself for so many years, it’s exciting and more than a little disorienting to turn to the matter of a reading public. In my fifteen years editing magazines and books, I helped dozens, maybe hundreds, of writers ready their words for readers, but that work feels wild and laughable from this side of the desk. And while I’ve written scores of profiles, reported pieces, reviews, etc., I’ve never published anything on the topic I’ve been trying to wrestle into words in my spare time for the better part of 20 years—how being fat has shaped my experience of community. And so I’m especially grateful to have Anna’s keen literary sensibilities steering me through this stage of possibility.
I’m also grateful for you, for your interest in this book I’m hammering away at, and for your interest in hearing from me from time to time via this newsletter. Thanks for reading.
Yours,
Lisa
Meet Rochelle Brock

I have the idea that I’ll feature one fat person and/or fat-focused work of art in each of my newsletters. First up! Rochelle Brock, a young Brooklyn-based photographer also known as Rochelle Fatleopard, who is already garnering comparisons to Nan Goldin. Her work has been featured in Paper, Vogue, and Interview, and she’s contributed some dynamic images to an initiative at Refinery 29 to diversify stock photography. I look forward to watching her work continue to develop!
Photo: Ryan Duffin for Paper
A week can change a life. No, really.
One of the many cool programs I get to direct at Image is the Glen Workshop, a week in Santa Fe that is equal parts creative workshop, arts festival, and spiritual retreat. Artists, writers, musicians, art appreciators, and spiritual wayfarers of all stripes have been gathering at the Glen for twenty years. And when I came on board I inherited this tagline in our marketing materials: A Week Can Change A Life. I confess my first reaction was a scoff. That’s a pretty bold claim. I mean, I’m sure it’s a good time, a valuable time, even. But change a life? Unlikely.
So, imagine my surprise when people started coming up to me in the final days of the 2019 Glen telling me how and why the week had changed their life: A faculty member had helped solve a sticking point in their manuscript. They’d met a new creative collaborator. The opportunity for rest had opened up space for vital reflection. Even as someone who is generally a fan of weeks in Santa Fe with creative folks, I was amazed to see first-hand how powerful a space like the Glen can be in a person’s life.
So, if you’re a writer or artist or someone who aspires to be either, I encourage you to think about joining me in Santa Fe this summer for the 2020 Glen, July 26-August 1. Morning workshops offer artists at all skill levels an opportunity to develop their craft in a wide variety of genres with top notch faculty. Afternoons and evenings feature master classes, gallery tours, field trips to the opera, readings, yoga, contemplative prayer, concerts, open mics, and more. The Glen is not inexpensive; registration starts just under $1,700, but that does include lodging and meals for a week in addition to the workshop itself, so it’s a deal as weeks in Santa Fe go. And we’ve pulled together a really stellar group of faculty this year. Just a handful of highlights:
Shane McCrae is teaching a poetry workshop focused on learning how to write about God and spiritual themes while avoiding the pitfalls of sentimentality. If you’re not familiar with Shane’s work, start with his conversation with Kevin Young on a recent New Yorker podcast.
Melissa Pritchard is teaching our fiction workshop! Annie Dillard called her one of our finest writers and it could take a week to read all her accolades.
Ins Choi is the creator, writer, and executive producer of the hit CBC show Kim’s Convenience (now available on Netflix) and he’s teaching screenwriting for us. During the week, his students will form a writing room where they pitch ideas, develop stories, outline scenes, and write scripts.
Jacob Romeo, lead concept designer for the wildly inventive Meow Wolf, is going to teach a workshop on narrative for visual artists.
Lauren Winner is teaching our first ever prose revision bootcamp. Drafting a book is hard work, but revision is where writers really hone their ideas and craft. Lauren will help folks find their book’s truest, best shape, guiding students to provide substantive critiques of each other’s work while also provide one-on-one feedback on each manuscript herself.
Justin Chang, film critic for the Los Angeles Times and NPR’s Fresh Air, will teach a workshop on the art of criticism.
See the full lineup of classes here. And if you want more details, feel free to write me at lacockrel@imagejournal.org.
