Sorry for the late newsletter this week—I just got back from another semester at Seton Hill, where I teach in the Writing Popular Fiction MFA. That was after I came back from book tour, but before I take my daughter to dance in a parade at Disney.
I am tired, and I am looking forward to some point in the near future where I can take a little break…
It’s a fantastic program, and not just because I can teach there without having an MFA myself. It’s always a fantastic experience, and I had a lot of great conversations about craft and publishing—during the workshops, or sitting with the students in the cafeteria.
I just… don’t want to be called “Mr. Hart” or “professor.” Both of those things feel weird to me! And I think that’s because I don’t see a whole lot of difference between me and the students I’m working with.
Yes, I have had some success. Yes, I somehow support myself by making stuff up. But when we’re sitting around a table talking about stories, we’re all just delicate little writing souls yearning for some greater understanding of the human condition.
And for people to like our work.
At one point, we finished a workshop early, so I offered to do a little lightning-round Q &A with students—ask me anything about publishing!—and I forget the context, but I said how I was a little envious of them, and they looked at me like I had six heads.
It’s true though.
You only get one debut. I’m eight books (and multiple other projects) into my career and sometimes feel like I’m inviting people to a Tupperware party. And it’s easy to think that once you get a book published, you’re on top of a mountain filled with unicorns and gumdrops.
But the top of every mountain is the bottom of another.
Every decision comes with new anxieties and stressors. Every project feels like it could be the last one. And I do miss being in that place: one of infinite possibility, where I was grinding toward something because it was the only thing I could imagine doing with my life.
Sometimes it can be frustrating, when you get to the capitalism part of the art.
Anyway, world’s tiniest violin. I just got invited to be a featured panelist at Iceland Noir in November. I’m doing okay. But I also don’t like caste systems, and I think it’s important to remind ourselves that when we’re sitting around the table, we’re all the same.
It was also great to see my pal, Rachel Howzell Hall, as the featured guest speaker. She gave an incredible talk to the students, and talked about her new project, The Last One, an epic romantasy coming out later this year, which I cannot wait to check out.
That’s one of the best part of Seton Hill: the community.
This was my third semester and I finally know my way around the labyrinth campus, finally remember a lot of the students’ names. And it just feels good to be in a place full of people who love doing the thing that I love doing—because the time we spend doing it is primarily spent alone.
Sometimes you need that reminder; you’re not alone.
Anyway, there are some rambles because my brain is sludge so that’s the best I got!
Onto a few business items!
As mentioned I will be at Iceland Noir in the November! If you’re there, come hang out!
But I will also be places closer, and sooner:
On July 16 I’ll be at The Mysterious Bookshop with Alexander Boldizar talking about incredible new thriller The Man Who Saw Seconds.
And on August 1, I’ll be at Elaine’s Restaurant in Alexandria, VA, talking with thriller author Jeffrey James Higgins! Click here to RSVP.
And in non-assassin news, I was just really happy to see this review for Dark Space, coming in October from me and
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Hi Rob! (Not Professor Hart.) I'm a big fan of your work, and I almost became one of your students, but I ended up choosing the genre fiction program at Western Colorado University instead, where I started this past summer (i'm writing about my MFA experience on Substack).
Just found your Substack, so I look forward to following your work more closely. Keep up the great work!