Qstack Readers Select | February 2025
Queer Substack Favorites - with guest Nan Tepper of The Next Write Thing
Welcome back to Qstack Readers Select, a bi-monthly, curated selection of queer Substacks—chosen by Qstack readers—highlighting and celebrating the enormous talent of our queer writers.
For this issue, of and has selected four newsletter writers who display ongoing commitment to the queer community and great writing (and illustrating!)
Hello beautifuls, far and wide! I’ve got some picks to share and oh me oh my, each one is wonderful. I’ve got 4 today. , , a very dear queer— —and lastly, an awfully wise woman with some very good sense in .
I’m going to start with one of my earliest readers, a woman who was so generous and supportive in my first days on the platform, I could hardly believe it. That person would be the one and only of . Amy found me—I’m not sure how—and immediately began reading my posts regularly, liking, commenting, and restacking. She was my first recommender and I have gained more subscribers from her nod than any of the others I’ve received.
And Amy? Reading Amy Cowen’s stack is like happening upon a motherlode of talent. She’s an exquisite writer, a deep thinker, an awesome illustrator, and she invites her readers to explore their own creativity in a gentle and empowering way. I read her Sunday post every week, and there, treasures abound. I’m never disappointed in a post from Amy. She’s had a challenging year but shows up on the page week after week with kindness and empathy, honesty and bravery. To find out more, you’ll have to take a trip on over to Illustrated Life and indulge yourself in some of her magic.
Here's a taste, from “Still Lining Up Milk Jugs”:
A Mark in the Sand
This is not a loop. It is not a retracing of steps, a recircling. Or it may be a circling, always a few steps off, an ever-widening or narrowing spiral.
This week marks the end of my second year at Substack, the second year of weekly posts for Illustrated Life.
It has been a powerful year of weaving words, and I am beyond grateful for this space and for those of you who have supported and encouraged me in this year, those who have made me feel seen.
This is a space about creative life, the keeping of illustrated journals, and the beauty of personal projects and series. This is a space dedicated to doing what you find personally meaningful, even when it means walking away from the crowd. This is a space tucked mostly out of sight, almost invisible, not hidden, but often only seen by those who find their way here in the dark.
Sometimes people stay only a short while, but I keep the light on.
I think my heart broke in this last year in lots of little ways, some that have been public and some not. I have glued the cracked shell together with a mix of determination, resignation, loneliness, sadness, anxiety, and hurt. There are other things sprinkled in, eternal things, and a base, but it’s a proprietary blend. It’s organic. It came oozing to the surface, reaching and spreading and nestling into cracks and fissures. It filled in spaces large and small, hairline cracks and gaping chasms. This glue may or may not hold, and so I follow along with needle and thread, a mending pile always at my feet.
And next, there’s another illustrator whose name is . She writes and draws . Kate resides in a special compartment in my heart, and it will always be hers. We met because of Qstack, thank you very much, Mr. Troy Ford, for creating this safe haven that we need now more than ever.
Kate is a marvelous illustrator and love is her game. She’s about human connection, compassion, and wonder, all wrapped up in terrific zines and posts that are a treat to behold. I long for her latest installment and am thrilled when she pops up in my email. I simply adore her; her work, her person, her point of view. She’s moved to a donation-only model, because of Substack’s tolerance for haters, and is donating at least 10% of her proceeds to non-profits with a mission, like The Trevor Project and Trans Lifeline.
She’s an absolute peach. That’s one of my highest compliments, by the way. Here’s a taste, from “the time has come to unsurvive”:
I met in one of ’s fabulous workshops. She came out at age 46 after living a het life, doing all the things, marriage, kids, suburbia and when she set herself free and opened to her authentic self, she set her sights on telling the truth in all areas of her life. And the name of her stack? ! Brilliant. Just love it.
Her writing, especially since the result of our heinous election has been inspiring and fearless, it’s a balm to my disgusted soul. You don’t have to ask Katrina how she feels about the outcome; you just have to read her and you’ll know exactly where she stands. She talks about her rage, her disbelief, her feelings of helplessness, but she does it in a way that I find empowering and not at all hopeless. She rants and raves in all the best possible ways. She’s real and she’s brave and she’s got lots to say, and I love reading every word. And to top it all off, she shares the best pup pix in Notes. It’s a win-win all the way.
An excerpt from “I’m Tired”:
My mind and body have been overcome since the election—grief, anger, fear, disappointment in humanity and our unwillingness to learn from our mistakes—or to even consider learning something new in general. Uneducated and disinformed voters who elected a snake oil salesman have me teetering on the edge of rage, sometimes even falling face-first into it. The cloud of discontent has been hovering over my head, dripping its incessant sadness into my hair and onto my face and making my mascara run (when I choose to wear mascara, that is).
I am drenched in tears and disdain.
It’s not sustainable, this feeling, this existence.
I’ve been thinking lately about how to reframe this entire human experience in order to survive it. How to turn my rage into something that aligns more with my true heart and personality. How to regain my positivity and kick the negative to the curb more often than not. And at the same time, how to redefine the things that I once assigned arbitrary meaning to so I can let go of the disappointments and insecurities that have plagued me in the past.
I used to say to my kids (much to their eye-rolling chagrin): If you can’t change it, choose it.
So, I’m choosing it.
For example, I’ve been walking around on this earth in a body that’s a few sizes bigger than the ones you see on TV and in magazines, and I’ve been haunted by it my entire life. Fifty-four years is a long time to loathe the skin you’re in. So, now I’m choosing to walk with a little more sass and spirit. I’m choosing to celebrate my jiggle and my and rolls. I mean, why is a fat body seen as undesirable, anyway? Maybe I was just born during the wrong time period. If I had been a Renaissance woman, I would have been revered for my beauty and fertility. And if a big, fluffy sofa is seen as soft and comfy and worth a high price tag, why isn’t a big, fluffy butt viewed the same way?
And on to the last, and never, ever, the least, of and .
Tess is a wonder. Another tremendous writer whom I also met through QStack, she brings us a comprehensive collection of poetry and other arts. Visual Liquid is just starting up on Substack, an arts magazine that offers articles on culture, photography, astrology, a veritable potpourri of selections.
And MorningPoems? I’ve lost count, but I think she’s written well over 1200 poems. If I’m incorrect, I’m sure you can get the real number directly from Tess. And, oh, I almost forgot, there’s a podcast, too. She’s a very busy, extremely productive artist, and she possesses one of the most generous hearts I’ve encountered on this platform. Tess is a cheerleader for others, singing our praises when she reads something that strikes a chord.
I just realized that there’s a bit of a theme woven through my reviews. 3 out of 4 of the women are illustrators. It didn’t occur when I made my selections… I guess I love illustrators! Tess, of course, is an illustrator. What can’t she do?
From “MorningPoem Interludes”:
MorningPoem #588
“You Live Your Life”
I see visions of your pretty, smiling face, learning to walk and giggling with delight.
I see a teen version of you on the phone, the cord wrapped around your finger,
talking to friends until all odd hours of the night
–your parents: only mildly exasperated.
You live your life so fully and elegantly,
and no moment passes by where your energy is dulled.
No, not yours.
Yours is the energy of a million butterflies fluttering,
overwhelming the senses, and stunning the simple folk.
I’m so happy I was able to share some of my Substack loves with you. Keep reading! We’ve all got so much to say. xoNan
 | A guest post by
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Great choices.
Nan! Gobsmacked is the word that comes to mind. Thank you so much for including me in this beautiful roundup. (And thank you, Mr. Troy Ford, for hosting the Qstack space and community.) I’m flattered to be included with this brilliant, soulful, and bold group of writers and illustrators. I’m lucky to have spotted you in those early days, Nan, and I’ve been enjoying your writing ever since!