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Writings of Andrea W. LeDew
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So glad you have signed up to receive the For Random Learning Comes Newsletter! This is the one hundred and twenty-fourth edition.
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Cold has given way to milder weather here as storms still brew in Washington.
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I have dipped my toe into politics once again with my latest essay, Country in the Strictest Sense of the Word. It is a review of the last few weeks and how it feels to be a mere citizen with little power in the face of rapid change. I hope it will prove motivational to those of you who feel as uncomfortable with the current situation as I.
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Secondly, I have a poem It Should Be Free, about charging for content. Specifically, in the form of paywalls at news organizations.
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I wrote this after seeing comments, following The Atlantic's article teaser on social media (about Hitler taking over Germany in 53 days, as it happens.) The commenters complained that such important content should be free.
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That left me with mixed feelings. I dislike this era of subscriptions for everything, where nothing can be bought outright. But I also understand the need to keep a business, such as a newspaper or magazine, and certainly one as fine as The Atlantic, in the black.
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I also have the conflicting feeling, that writers aren't getting a fair shake in this world of free media. I feel a bit like the cottage worker making lace doilies by hand, when the factory machines come along that can do it all for less. The going rate per word has not kept pace with inflation, that's for sure. And the gymnastics one must perform in order to be published are veritably Olympic.
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This reminds me of a hilarious sketch I just saw by Keenan and Peele, in which they exit Othello at the Globe in Shakespeare's time (in full attire) and make him pen a new, better play with a dark-skinned character. There are many pleasing lines with cuss words and the word "Verily," combined, of which the Bard himself would have heartily approved.
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As for the novel, I have not even twenty words to show for my trouble. Since the end of January it has grown from 74,287 words (377 pages.) to 74,301. In my defense, I had guests and other household issues to attend to. And I wrote a ridiculously long essay. Verily. And I did change my front page bio, including a somewhat more cohesive description of what the novel is about.
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I do plan to check out Tropicon in St Augustine on Friday and Saturday coming up. I'll report back on the other side. There is the opportunity to try your pitch on an agent but considering the first draft is not done, I don't know if I'm ready.
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Also I have no idea what might be attached to that service, in terms of a fee, which, of course, is published nowhere. This factor may weigh on my decision, going back to the mantra, payment must go to the writer, not vice versa. Which is something I heard on the podcast Publishing Rodeo. In writing, as in homeschooling, or caring for kids with special needs, one can easily go bankrupt with all the associated costs, if one is not careful!
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Oh, and by the way Happy Valentine's Day! For a collection of my most beloved and love-filled pieces, read my Valentine's Day Newsletter from a few years back.
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Hope all is well with you and yours!
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If you know of anyone else who might be interested in receiving this newsletter, please forward it to them. They can sign up on my website, linked in the logo above, if they like it! The more the merrier!
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So Close and Yet So Far
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This essay discusses the Semiquincentennial celebration and compares it with Fourths of Years gone by.
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Drawing
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A poem on redistricting, the drawing of new districts to serve the ruling party's political purposes, with the blessing of the Supreme Court and with enthusiasm unchecked by either the people's will nor the State's Constitutional provisions.
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Attempt
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A poem describing the swirling emotions on and offline provoked by the attempted assassination of President Trump at the dinner for the press. Caveat: I do not doubt the attempt on his life was real. P.S. The photo is an attempt at beauty.
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Approaching May 1st, 2026, Anniversary of The Great Fire, Jacksonville, FL
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A poem about a very dry spring in Florida which calls to mind the terrible fire which consumed Jacksonville early in the 20th century.
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Smiles
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This poem analyzes the loss of reputation of the US in the eyes of its closest allies, and the attitude it projects, about that loss.
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