Rachel Schwartzmann: Welcome to Slow Stories. I’m Rachel Schwartzmann. I'm a writer, creator, and the author of Slowing: Discover Wonder, Beauty, and Creativity through Slow Living from Chronicle Books.
For those of you just tuning in, Slow Stories is a multimedia project that began with this podcast and now includes a newsletter on Substack. There, I write about things like time, creativity, and pace—and on this show, I interview artists, entrepreneurs, and innovators who share slow stories—and big ideas—about living, working, and creating in our digital age.
Before we get into the episode, I wanted to quickly thank everyone who has shown support for Slowing in some way, shape, or form. Publishing a book—a first book, no less—is truly an all-consuming experience, and I'm so grateful to have received support and encouragement from readers around the globe. That said, if you want to show your support for Slowing, and if you've read and genuinely enjoyed the book, consider leaving a review, as this will help Slowing find even more readers.
As a reminder, you can also follow Slow Stories on Substack for a behind-the-scenes look at bringing a book to life, and follow me [on social media] @rachelschwartzmann for real-time updates.
For now, I'll leave you with this refresher on the book: Slowing caters to many literary sensibilities: essay and memoir, creative wellness, and personal growth. Language and lyricism are front and center, but there is also a practical component. There are various ways you can engage with and experience this book. For that reason, I don't know where exactly you'll find it on the shelf, but I'm confident it will fit somewhere in your home. That's where I wrote it, and that's what it means to me. I can't wait for you to read it!
Now, on to the episode, which begins with an opening story from writer Morgan DePerno, who shares a recent experience that slowed her down and lifted her spirits. Here’s more from Morgan.
Morgan DePerno: Hello, I'm Morgan DePerno and I'm an online creator, writer, and reviewer under the name Bookshelf Keeps. My background is in biology and religious studies with a focus on entomology and end-of-life care. My professional career has taken on many different forms, but a clear through-line from one role to the next has been a genuine curiosity about how we make sense of our place in the world through story, whether it be fact or fiction. And for me, writing is how I make sense, and equally important, in the life of so much impermanence, writing is how I hold on. It's how I try not to forget—how I can slow down time and just linger in a map of a memory, of a moment that I've recorded. And so when asked to share an experience of slowing down, what first comes to mind are moments like these where I'm at my desk in the morning, coffee gone cold, listening to Sigur Rós, or I'm outside reading poetry.
It's a solitary act and usually a practice that quite literally requires me to physically slow down. However, more recently, I had an experience that didn't fit any of these categories. I wasn't alone. There was no calming music. In some ways, there was poetry, and yet it felt sacred, like a different kind of slowing, of paying attention, of being so blissfully and joyfully in my body. Honestly, it was an experience where I felt like I was 12 again, like I was running through the park or climbing a tree with a friend without any fear or anxiety of how the day needed to go or what I had to get done. And I think there is something here I want to share: Something to be said about growing older and trying to find more moments like these where we are silly and playful and childlike. The experience is one that would take too long to fully share, but to paint the outline: It was a Thursday in October with my friend Anna.
It was a random decision post-coffee, to show her the trail near my apartment that's been renovated. The only other big thing to note is that Anna always has herons appearing right when she needs them. They're kind of her sign. And so, of course, on this day we saw one—but before we saw it, we crossed a bridge and played that game where you drop sticks on one side and run to the other to see which stick moves under the bridge faster—this was her idea—but we'd never done it before, and we just did. After that, we kept walking until it was clear we couldn't go any further. The barrier was a fence that extended across the path and down into the brush on both sides of the trail. But before we could turn around, of course, what do we see? A heron, crossing the sky, some 50 feet out in front of us. We both stopped mid-conversation, look at each other, audibly gasp, and then we just run. We don't care about the fence. We painfully climb over it. We run down the small slope of the trail, nearing the water and see the heron once more just before it takes off further into the trees. We are winded, we are laughing, we are shaking our heads in disbelief, and it is an utterly perfect playful day.
Rachel Schwartzmann: Thank you so much again to Morgan for sharing. You can find more thoughtful stories over on her Instagram @bookshelfkeeps, and Substack, Something Like an Opening. Now, here's my conversation with poet Kate Baer.
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As the bestselling author of What Kind of Woman, And Yet, and I Hope This Finds You Well, Kate’s latest collection continues her thoughtful explorations of modern womanhood. She comments on the ever-present tension between the body and the mind. She celebrates relationships with love and loved ones. She ruminates on the growth of her children—and herself. Each poem is a tiny mirror made of ink and promise, asking to be engaged and looked at with curiosity—and to find the courage to ask questions ourselves, perhaps most prominently: How about now?
And in this interview, Kate shared more about her relationship with time, the importance of plugging into our communities, poetry as a vehicle for growth, and the ongoing journey of learning to let go.
I spoke with Kate shortly before this episode aired, and felt a sense of urgency that might seem counterintuitive. But our conversation was the definition of nourishing, and it came at a time that I believe would benefit people the most—especially as we close the book on another tiring year. So consider it an early holiday gift from me to you. On that note, here’s my conversation with the singular Kate Baer.
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Rachel Schwartzmann: Yeah, I mean, so much of your work centers on relationships, but I'm curious how maybe 40 has helped you embrace solitude or what your relationship with solitude is like.
Kate Baer: At a lot of my events on my book tour that I just wrapped that up, I met a lot of women who came alone and I thought that was so interesting there. Of course there were lots of like book clubs and friend groups and I love that vibe and I'm absolutely on that same level with them and their giggles and their energy. But I also very much understand the need or the desire to be alone. I love to take myself out to eat. I love to sit in a parking lot by myself for an hour. I love to be in my office alone. Some of this comes with living with five other people. I've always enjoyed that, even as a kid, I've always talked to myself. If you see me at a stoplight, you'll maybe notice that my mouth is moving because I've always talked to myself either inside my head or out loud. And so I'm very comfortable being alone and it's something, as an introvert, I now understand, you know, that's where so much of my energy comes from, is that time of recharging and being by myself.
Rachel Schwartzmann: Same here. I love going on walks alone. Oh, absolutely. And I keep thinking of the poem “Today,” which was one of my favorites. Would you be open to reading that?
Kate Baer: Absolutely. This is called “Today.” [Kate reads poem]
Rachel Schwartzmann: What's something that you've seen on a long walk—or something that's become more clear to you in recent walks?
Kate Baer: Well, I wish I could talk about recent walks, but I've been on the road since early November, so I can't wait to get back out there. All my streets are covered in snow. It's one of the best ways to walk: through the snow. So beautiful out there.
I don’t if know there's something specific. I can think of many lines of poetry that have come to me during walks, and that's just because so much of the meat of what I write about is my real life. And like most of us, all of us, our real life comes with lots of complications. And I think on a long walk when the phone's away and it's silent or there's music playing through my headphones, I think there's so much that can be worked through in conversation with myself or in just the quiet—even good things. Why am I feeling so good? Or of course, the bad things or the things that are complicated. I think that time of just letting things marinate without the noise of the world is so incredibly helpful through working out why I feel a certain way or what my ego is doing to hurt a situation or, or make it more complicated when really I might just need to look in the mirror. And I think that's what's very helpful about being on those walks in forward motion, especially.
Rachel Schwartzmann: I mean, a lot of writers that I've spoken to are all about movement, and the connection between movement and the mind and the body. How are you feeling generally these days? We’re basically in winter, the holidays are right around the corner, and I love this season and it's actually been a while since I recorded one of these conversations so close to the end of the year. I was just wondering if you wanted to talk about that for a little bit. You know, are you a seasonal person? Do you enjoy the seasons?
Kate Baer: I love the seasons. It's one of the best parts about living in Pennsylvania is getting to experience all four seasons in such a rich and colorful way. So yes, I love the seasons. You're catching me at a bad time to ask me how I'm doing. With the holidays though—I'm in charge of four people's holiday magic and creating that without losing my mind, while also dealing with my husband being in and out of the hospital from a botched appendectomy and coming off of being on the road for two months. So I'm really playing catch up and trying to sort out a lot of different things. But yeah, it's going to be okay, but it's pretty hairy right now. I'm looking forward to shutting down my office and finishing up all my holiday tasks so I can settle into all the good parts.
Rachel Schwartzmann: I'm so sorry to hear that.
Kate Baer: No problem.
Rachel Schwartzmann: Well, even with all of the stress and chaos that the end of the year brings, what do you have faith in right now? Because it's also a time of continued world chaos and despair, especially with some of the recent events. How are you keeping the faith?
Kate Baer: I think one unplugging from constant discourse while staying informed, I think is important. And I think a lot of people have had to learn that, especially since 2020 and how much we take in, what we take in, who we're listening to, who we're hearing information from, how we're getting our information has become, I think, just really critical to our mental health and also to our truth. And trying to discern what's real and what's not real has become really important to me. But I think the most important [thing] is trying to take action. There's been some horrific gun violence over the weekend, and that is something that's really difficult for me, especially as a mother, but I've tried to really plug into local resources. I did an event on Sunday with Ceasefire for Pennsylvania, had a poetry vigil, and I'm involved with Mom's Demand Action, which is an incredible group across the country.
I get asked this question a lot for various reasons on what I can do with all this despair. And I think it's really important to note that probably the best thing anyone can do, poet or not a poet, is to get off the internet and into our real communities and ask how can I help? Reposting infographics to our Instagram Stories—we've learned by now that that's not doing much beyond virtue signaling in our echo chambers. I've certainly done that many times and I understand why, and I understand why sometimes it still is important, but I really think that getting offline and doing real work with our hands and with our eyeballs, looking at other humans and volunteering at food pantries or showing up to vigils or marching in the street, that to me, I think is so much more impactful than hitting repost. And I know that's much easier and I know that our resources are often limited, but I think that real community impact is just so much more helpful, more than it ever has been before.
Rachel Schwartzmann: Yeah. Community's such a through line. Tell me a little bit more about what you've learned about your community through participation and through listening, especially in recent times.
Kate Baer: I think what I've learned, especially coming through these last few election cycles, is that there's so much that we agree on that we don't know that we agree on with our neighbors. I think most people are pretty united against billionaires controlling everything. I think most people are united on not wanting our kids to be hurt or unfed or unhoused. There are a lot of wonderful people around us who want to help each other, and I think plugging into those resources and setting our differences aside to help each other, stay fed, stay housed, stay educated, has been very eye-opening to me. I feel humbled by that when it's been very easy for me to point fingers, especially living in a swing state and especially living in a community where there's a lot of different ways of thinking. And I think that's been the most surprising and humbling thing to learn: people are much more willing to help than we think. I'm my biggest roadblock to seeing that.
Rachel Schwartzmann: I think going back to what we were saying about being quiet or introverted, sometimes it may be for me it feels like I'm not saying enough or doing enough, but help can come in quiet ways too.
Kate Baer: Absolutely.
Rachel Schwartzmann: I definitely want to keep speaking about all of these things, but as we get into talking about, how about now, maybe we can pause and have you read a few poems from the collection.
Kate Baer: Sure.
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Rachel Schwartzmann: What are you hungry for these days?
Kate Baer: I think returning to the physical world and moving conversations from the group chat to living rooms and bingo nights and group walks, and just being in each other's kitchens and having coffee together, I think that's something that most of our communities are hungry for. I've noticed that at all my live events, people are just very thirsty to be back together and in real life, and I certainly am as well.
Rachel Schwartzmann: Absolutely. And I wonder too, how that affects your creative life and your creative appetite, you know, how does this collection maybe satisfy something for you that your previous books haven't?
Kate Baer: Yeah, that's a great question. I think this book satisfied an urge for playfulness, which has always been something that I want more than anything else when I'm writing: a little bit of risk, a little bit of tongue in cheek and playfulness, and some winks and laughs, but I really wanted to pursue that this time. And I think moving forward, that is one of my greatest wishes and desires is to stay playful and stay curious. You know, I'm always circling the drain of the same topics because what I write about is deeply personal and consumes me is the people around me, which is my family and my friends and my community. And so I'm writing the same book over and over again, but within that I'm getting older and the circumstances change. And so what I need to do to keep things fresh is just to remain curious and open and play with language. And I think this book really scratched that itch and has made me want to continue down that same path.
Rachel Schwartzmann: It just made me think of a moment from another interview I did with Allie Rowbottom who wrote the novel Aesthetica. She said, “the questions in your writing or the questions in your life.”
Kate Baer: Interesting. That’s amazing. Yeah, that makes sense to me.
Rachel Schwartzmann: And it's interesting to hear you talk about playfulness—because correct me if I'm wrong, but you've mentioned in other interviews that you actually had to delay the publication of this collection as you navigated some personal health challenges, and that's an interesting tension to navigate. And so I'm curious how you move through the urgency of getting the words down while honoring the slowness and playfulness of poetry, too.
Kate Baer: I learned of this concept when my oldest was a toddler and we were watching “Daniel Tiger's Neighborhood,” which is a spinoff of “Mr. Rogers.” It's also something Mr. Rogers, Fred Rogers, talked about a lot, and there's a song that they sing and one of the lines says, “You can feel two things at the same time, and that's okay.” My friends and I sing this to each other all the time, and I think about this a lot, especially with this book.
I also wrote an entire book about this concept called And Yet, but it's that feeling of: here are some things that are very bad and some things that are very scary. And it, and in this case, os facing my own mortality and trying to navigate this out of control feeling that I had about my body, I continue to have, and then also holding this space and this idea and this feeling that I've never felt more fuller and richer and more beautiful and more curious and more playful than I ever have.
Turning 40 and kind of walking with both of those feelings and being able to hold it all. I read about this concept of joy a few months ago that joy is the matriarch of emotions, but she won't settle down at a table. She won't settle within us until we let all of her children be there. The grief and the anxiety and the sadness, all those other emotions have to be welcome at that same table. And so I think that comes through in this book. There's a lot of hard things that come our way, especially as we get older, our parents aging, our children getting older and navigating trickier topics, our bodies failing us—but there's also a lot of joy and privilege in getting older. And so yeah, I think it's just that constant practice of feeling two things at the same time and knowing that's okay.
Rachel Schwartzmann: Absolutely. Yeah. It reminds me too of Ross Gay's work: The Book of Delights and Inciting Joy. Yeah, I think he said, too, holding joy and sorrow at the same time as the name of the game.
Kate Baer: Absolutely.
Rachel Schwartzmann: I also want to say that you're really selling beyond 40. [Both laugh] I'm in my thirties now, and I'm seeing all these incredible women in their forties who just seem so at home with themselves. I think I've experienced a little bit of the phenomenon of the Pandemic Skip because I was in my mid to late twenties when it happened. I feel like I'm catching up in a lot of ways still. But yeah, just wanted to let you know, really selling me on it.
Kate Baer: Perfect!
Rachel Schwartzmann: As you kind of speak about the good and the bad at once, in another podcast, you were talking about your experience with a panic attack and you said you had to learn things the hard way. Do you think writing poetry is learning things the hard way? Do you see it as part of the lesson?
Kate Baer: I think so. I think zooming back even more, I think writing and the process of writing is learning things the hard way all the time because it takes so much failure to write anything. You have to use that muscle over and over again. That failure muscle of putting so much time and energy and heart into something and having it go nowhere. I think that to me is the lesson more than the actual topics themself. It's the pushing through that failure part and kind of grappling with that more than anything else.
Rachel Schwartzmann: The failure and the unknown.
Kate Baer: Absolutely.
Rachel Schwartzmann: I follow Melissa Febos on Substack—I also had the pleasure of interviewing her a few years ago—but she had a really powerful newsletter and she said, “One only ever partially knows one’s reasons for writing a book. Even when we think we know all of our reasons, we are usually wrong. There are always surprises. We write to find out our reasons for writing. Our craft is both the method and the outcome.”
Kate Baer: I love that. So true.
Rachel Schwartzmann: And I think also, you know, timing is a really big part of arriving at a story or a moment in life that you want to kind of dive deeper into on the page. I'd love to know what your relationship with language has been like. What time in your life did you realize that this was something pretty inherent to who you are?
Kate Baer: Well, I've been writing since I can remember. Recently I got all the containers from my parents' attic. I'm a huge nostalgia hoarder, and I found all my old journals from when I was eight and when I was 16 and when I was 25. And I was reading through all those poems, short stories, and screenplays and just seeing the evolution and basically the confirmation that I've always been trying at this, always been using these expressions of art—some really bad poetry in there of course—but just really fun to read through all those. I've always been a huge reader. I grew up in Christian school system, so I read a lot of Amish romance [novels]—just really some truly terrible writing. No offense.
Rachel Schwartzmann: Are there any lines that you remember from those stories? [Laughs]
Kate Baer: I don't, but what I do remember is getting to high school and having one of my teachers hand me The Edible Woman by Margaret Atwood, and it just completely changed my relationship with literature. As soon as I finished that book, I read her entire discography and Oryx and Crake is one of my favorite books of all time. Obviously The Handmaid's Tale is deeply impactful. I really learned so much reading her books because all of a sudden I was reading these complicated female characters while at the same time also kind of learning about just the playfulness in language and the richness in language that you can use while also being readable. Her writing really, really changed the course of my life, so I always credit her first for really kind of blowing the lid off what I understood about books and storytelling
Rachel Schwartzmann: It shows. I’m going to ask you a question that I posed in my book Slowing, which I had structured in three sections: Beginning, Middle, and End. I'm curious just generally how beginnings have changed for you over the years, both on and off the page, and what questions you think we should be asking about the beginnings in our lives.
Kate Baer: I think that for me, I have always really resisted change and that has been something I've had to learn the hard way. And so I hope that I look at beginnings with a little bit more joy than I have in the past. I have a hard time letting go and that really comes through in motherhood and really came through in my relationships and something that I have to continue to work on is letting go and allowing things to finish and allowing myself to start something fresh without constantly looking in the rearview mirror. So yeah that is something I hope that I continue to improve on and model for my children, and also model in my work life as I, you know, throw spaghetti at the wall and, and see what sticks.
Rachel Schwartzmann: What do you think you're holding onto?
Kate Baer: I think I just hold onto comfort. I hold onto the feeling of being safe and some of that is important and necessary and especially necessary in children's lives. There's a big roadblock there when you stay too comfortable just in creative life and in our personal lives. And I think time and experience has proven to me over and over again that taking risks, even if it ends up poorly, really helps rewire our brain to be able to withstand change and look at things from a different angle.
Rachel Schwartzmann: Do you think living in our digital age helps or hurts us in terms of change?
Kate Baer: I'm not sure about change. I think overall it absolutely hurts us. I'm not sure about that.
Rachel Schwartzmann: I mean, in [the poem] “The Age of the Internet,” you write, We know too little about, too much to form these manifestos.” Obviously you've been no stranger to commenting on the extreme pitfalls of social media and the digital landscape and you got your start in blogging and nodding to the origins of this podcast, I'm curious what comes to mind when you hear the phrase slow storytelling—or slow content?
Kate Baer: I think what comes to mind for me is kind of the story of our lives and how there are things we are really in a rush for: publishing a book or getting down to the altar or having a baby or whatever our goals are career-wise or family-wise or personal. I think especially in my twenties and thirties it felt like this huge rush to prove myself when so many things are told slowly. I don't think that's what you're asking, but that is what came to mind.
Rachel Schwartzmann: I think that's fair. Is there somebody, like a friend in your life who you think really models that sentiment—or who you look to when you need that reminder?
Kate Baer: Yeah, I have a few friends that really take their time and I mean that in all ways, and some of that is just saying curious to what's around the corner instead of racing across the room and kind of checking off boxes just to check off boxes. That is a huge inspiration to me.
Rachel Schwartzmann: For sure. I think what I've learned about the idea of slow storytelling is that authenticity and rawness really come to mind just getting grounded in the realities of a story or your circumstances and letting it lead you forward.
Kate Baer: Right, absolutely.
Rachel Schwartzmann: Maybe we can pause again and have you read a few more poems.
Kate Baer: Perfect.
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Kate Baer: I think what I want right now is just the time and the space to see what's next and nurture, nurture relationships and experiences offline and just keep returning to my body and leaning into the unknown and the exploration of whatever comes next.
Rachel Schwartzmann: Yeah. With the latter in mind, talking about the body, do you believe there's a physicality to writing? What has writing taught you about your body?
Kate Baer: I do write very much by ear, so I really use my body—my hearing specifically—when I write. I read all of my poems out loud over and over again, which is very frustrating because there's often phrases and words I want to use that don't have the right amount of syllables or beats because I'm listening to it. And so I write physically in that way. And like we talked about earlier, so many of the lines of my work come from my real life.
There's a line in “Marriage Poem” that says, "I love my life except for the noise of it.” And I came up with that line [during a walk]. We walk our dog in our back field and I was walking by our big front bay window and I looked inside and my daughter was sitting at the piano playing and my son was on the ground playing magnet tiles, and my husband was playing a card game with the other two and I thought, oh, they're so beautiful, I don't want to go inside. And I came up with those lines then. And that's constantly how I'm writing is: myself moving my body, being in the physical world, being with my friends, being at the post office, noticing someone in the checkout line. So much of my work just comes from the meat of everyday life, which is very connected to the body.
Rachel Schwartzmann: The scene you set of your family sounds so picturesque and I actually have a couple of questions related to family. You know, in your acknowledgements you write that How About Now is dedicated to your parents, “whose appetite for life and its forward motion is the foundations of this book and of your life.” And something that I really loved talking about with other guests on this podcast is creative lineage, and a lot of your work really pays homage to your people. So with all that said, how would you describe your creative lineage? You know, what have you inherited as an artist and what do you hope to pass down or pass along to your friends, to your children?
Kate Baer: Yeah, that's a great question. My great grandmother was one of the first women to go to art school in Philadelphia. I have her drawings in my office. My dad worked at a meat packing plant for 13 years while pursuing his dream of being on the radio, which he was able to fulfill when I turned 13. And my mom taught sixth grade English and Social Studies my whole childhood while also pursuing a master's degree and also being an artist. And I think having those examples both with grandparents—I have, a grandfather who's a woodworker and I have another grandmother who wrote books—both pursuing and raising families, while also staying true to what you want creatively, has been such an inspiration to me and I've really watched my parents walk that path in a very visceral way. And it's been hugely impactful to me and I hope that my husband and I can give that same example to our children.
My husband's in the medical field, which may seem uncreative, but he started as a graphic designer, actually went back to school, and still does pursue art in so many ways, even ways like beekeeping. And also he does some woodworking and gardening. And for me, of course, it's writing and reading. I think it's so important to have your children see you read and appreciate art just as much as make it ourselves. You don't even have to necessarily pursue an art to kind of model that. And my parents have always been very inspirational in that way, both pursuing art and also appreciating it and taking time to slow down and experience it.
Rachel Schwartzmann: Do they engage with you about your books or how is the dynamic whenever you publish something new?
Kate Baer: Oh, absolutely. Yeah. They're huge fans.
Rachel Schwartzmann: That’s great.
Kate Baer: Yeah.
Rachel Schwartzmann: In an interview with NPR, you said that “Time is moving faster than it ever has before. My children don't need me as much anymore. Have I done what I've wanted to do? Am I who I've always wanted to be?” I think it's really interesting to think about wanting and needing and I'm curious what your relationship is with wanting versus needing and how poetry sort of helps you distinguish between the two.
Kate Baer: Yeah, I think writing is a great resource in finding out what we are truly needing and wanting at our core—any kind of writing, not just poetry. I think writing really helps show us that. It certainly helps me kind of figure out what I'm after. And I think this book really highlights some of those things and I hope to continue to ask myself that question because those answers are constantly changing, at least for me.
Rachel Schwartzmann: Yeah. If you were to have an answer in this moment, what do you think poetry is asking of us, whether as writers or as readers?
Kate Baer: Yeah, I think poetry has asked the same question since its inception. Poetry is as old as language and I think poetry just asks us to pay attention, which Mary Oliver so poignantly said over and over again, which she's kind of pointing out the obvious, which is to pay attention. That's one of my favorite things about poetry. One of my favorite things about standup comedy, one of my favorite things about songs, and music is you're taking this very large story or concept or idea and then boiling it down into something small. And I love that. I love that boiled down storytelling and getting to the heart of things. And I think that's what poetry has always done, even long form poetry, even the Iliad and Odyssey. Yes, that's a long epic story, but it's really getting to the heart of humanity and I think paying attention to those details and to those things in our relationships and in our egos and in our worlds is hugely important and will remain the same for the rest of history.
Rachel Schwartzmann: Absolutely. I think to really be in touch with those stories, we have to keep asking questions or letting questions come into our lives and not turning away from them so much. And I noticed that a theme of what do you want? is a question that keeps coming out through this collection. And I know I asked you a little bit earlier, you know, what you currently want in life, but I'm curious how it feels to ask it. Do you feel like you have more permission to ask for what you want? How has that sort of changed?
Kate Baer: I think it's difficult for women to ask that question for. Certainly it was difficult for me to ask in my twenties and thirties, but like I said, I think that's one of my favorite parts of being 40. II'v been in conversation with other women who are in their fifties or sixties or even into their nineties, had conversations over and over while I was on the road with women who are older than me and they really expressed to me that it feels so good now, but it just keeps getting better. And I think that overarching theme really came down to being able to ask for permission for what you want and really letting expectations kind of roll off your back and really lean into what we really want to say and who we really want to be. And I look forward to that.
Rachel Schwartzmann: Do your children help you kind of find that strength to ask for it as well?
Kate Baer: No, I think children are the ultimate deterrent from that question. [Laughs] I think children are very self-centered because that's how they're supposed to be. They really do not have the tools to help their moms explore what they want themselves. I guess they could be an inspiration because they, they're certainly capable of what they want, but I don't really take inspiration from that just because I'm too busy trying to fulfill all the questions they're asking of me
Rachel Schwartzmann: And just, you know, meet the basic needs.
Kate Baer: Yeah, absolutely.
Rachel Schwartzmann: On the note of questions, is there a question that you hope people will ask you more often, whether it's your children, your friends, peers, readers?
Kate Baer: I don't think so. I don't really have that fantasy of, of people asking me for advice actually really get nervous and people ask me for advice, which I know that's not what you're asking me, but that's what I thought of immediately—because who am I to say anything about what your career path should be or how your family life should be. But no, I don't have that question. Instead … Something that I've really been trying to do is talk to myself gently. It's been kind of a change since starting 40 and I really encourage everyone to lean into that voice, that maternal voice that we all have. We all are capable of talking to ourselves gently. It really does change the home we have inside ourselves and allows an openness that, at least for me, was difficult to access before.
Rachel Schwartzmann: I love that the image of a home inside ourselves and it's something that you imagine is like common sense. Yeah. You have to be nice to yourself, but it's so hard to put into practice.
Kate Baer: Yeah, absolutely.
Rachel Schwartzmann: Well, there are so many questions that I think we could continue exploring, but maybe to close things out, we can have you read one last time from how about now?
Kate Baer: Absolutely.
Rachel Schwartzmann: That was my conversation with Kate Baer. You can purchase How About Now and Kate’s earlier works anywhere books are sold—though we recommend supporting local and independent bookstores if you can. You can also follow Kate on social media @katejbaer and on Substack @katebaer. I’m Rachel Schwartzmann, and you've been listening to Slow Stories. Thank you so much for tuning in and have a wonderful holiday.