🦎 Abigail Roscoe is a Mexican-Canadian artist and writer whose work I discovered through the one-eye community on Instagram. I was immediately drawn to her colorful artwork, thoughtful writing, and the fun designs she paints on her eye patches. (Check out her Instagram!)

I've also been thoroughly enjoying her studio's animated series, The Sixth Sun (I've linked to the first episode below). It's a beautiful blend of oral and visual storytelling that deeply speaks to thoughts I've been having about what it means to be a creative in times like these—as the narrator Huehuecóyotl describes it, "A story about the way a single voice can ripple out into something vast enough to push back the dark."

From Coyote Studio's site: "The Sixth Sun is a project that reimagines Aztec cosmology through the lens of modern humanity’s search for meaning. Set in present-day Mexico City, the story follows two musicians whose lives are changed when they encounter Huehuecóyotl, the ancient trickster god of music, fate, and rebellion."

The first three episodes are out now, and the fourth drops on Friday.

​Watch the first three episodes on YouTube.

🤖 Rebecca Solnit's most recent piece in the Guardian, "What technology takes from us – and how to take it back", is highly worth a read.

I was expecting the poetical waxing about picking blackberries and doing things simply for the sake of enjoyment. I wasn't expecting this line about what we lose when we no longer have to leave our houses and interact with strangers to run errands:

While there is something extremely frustrating about being in a busy Fred Meyer Grocery on a Sunday afternoon, I also find it weirdly satisfying. There with the old ladies in their Sunday hats, with young dads picking up a rotisserie chicken and bag of chips to watch the game. I think that's why I still go in person. I like being among the diversity of people (and stories) that call my neighborhood home, even if I could have saved myself an hour by ordering online.

Solnit's conclusion—"We are told that machines will become like us, but in many ways they demand we become more like them."—is deeply chilling. But she also describes how we have the antidote at our fingertips: sharing our stories with other humans, whether talking to the grocery store clerk or gathering with our friends.

A Tale of Two Ocularists

Or, how to build fanatical customer loyalty when you listen to your customers.

When I was blinded, something fundamental shifted inside of me. I couldn't put a finger on it then, but I knew almost immediately that there was no going back to the Jessie I'd been before.

I had no idea how to tell people this. Saying it aloud seemed to make people sad, but it didn’t particularly cause me distress. It was more a curious realization. A bit empowering, even, like I’d shed an identity and now got to remake myself.

That strange tumble of feelings clicked into place for the first time when my plastic surgeon suggested I look into getting a scleral shell. Basically, it's a thinner version of an acrylic prosthetic eye—it protects a damaged eye and fills out the eye socket a bit more, giving you a more natural look.

Scleral shells—like prosthetic eyes—are typically painted to match your remaining eye. But, it turns out, they can also be painted to look like anything you want. ;)

“People get all kinds of crazy ones,” my plastic surgeon told me. “Check out this ocularist’s Instagram, she's amazing.”

I went home, fired up Instagram, and discovered a whole world of one-eyed people living their best, most creative lives. They wore spiderweb eyes. Sparkly pink heart eyes. Glittery gold eyes that matched their party dresses.

It was the first time I’d felt real hope since that windshield shattered.

"You've been through enough already."

So I made an appointment with a well-regarded ocularist in Portland to get a scleral shell.

This ocularist was great: very informative, professional, personable. He put me at ease all through the process of taking an impression of my eye.

(Which was cold, wet, and weird. They use the same stuff that dentists use to make an impression of your teeth, but inject it into your eye socket. So . . . just imagine that, I guess.)

The only thing was, I already knew I didn’t want a realistic eye. I couldn’t tell you why, not exactly, but the idea of wearing a realistic eye—and trying to hide my injury—felt extremely uncomfortable. It was the opposite of the “no going back” energy that was taking hold of me more and more strongly.

So I asked the ocularist about getting a “fun eye.”

He shook his head.

“We don’t do those here,” he said. “And, frankly, you might think you want one, but you don’t. Clients I’ve had who got a fun eye realized it was even more traumatizing because it caused people to look at them funny.”

He gave me a kindly, patronizing smile.

“You’ve been through so much already; let’s just get you back to who you were before. Don’t put yourself through any more trauma by getting a fun eye.”

Neither my husband or I said anything then, but as we left the office my husband gave me a look. “Wow,” he said. “That guy has no idea who you are.”

"Tell me what you want."

Fortunately for me, my insurance wouldn’t cover the cost of getting an eye with that ocularist. When I learned this, I wasn’t particularly disappointed.

I’d already made an appointment with the other ocularist in Portland—the person whose Instagram I’d been directed to by my plastic surgeon. The problem was, my appointment with her was almost a year out—that’s how booked up she was.

And when I finally got in to see her, I understood why.

—> Read the rest of the post on the Story Rebel blog.​

🤓 I am obsessed with Flylighter, a free web clipper for Notion that a friend recommended last week. It's a browser extension that lets you quickly clip articles to a Notion database—you can even add tags, notes, and highlights! I immediately created a database called "Reading the Internet" and started using it to save articles I wanted to share with this newsletter, save for book research, read later, etc.

✏️ Chelle Honiker from Indie Author Magazine just announced a training she'll be leading in April, on using agentic AI to automate busywork. Her audience is primarily authors, but the tactics she's teaching—processing your inbox, sorting your notes, and catching business-related tasks that tend to fall through the cracks—are applicable for anyone running a solo business. I'm extremely excited for this—Chelle really knows her stuff. The first day is free. Sign up here.