“LESSONS FROM A DAYBED”

SEPTEMBER 2025

Lovelies,

This month I took my songwriting to Jamaica.

I was thrilled to reconnect with a wonderful Jamaican artist I've collaborated with for years. I could only imagine what a few more days together would reveal. 

But I also boarded the plane with desperation. From minute one, 2025 has been a stress barrage. I was not sustaining it. At least, I was not interested in the version of me that was sustaining it. 

My week called for more than surrendering to the sensual peace of Jamaica. My week called for recalibration. 

What's so neat is that I did it. I took steps back to myself. By the end of the week I felt deeply well.

My next mission would be to stay well. I would once-and-for-all learn to intersperse all my effort with periods of rest. 

Then this:

My last evening with Jodi we lay on daybeds while the sun set over the water. We'd attempted songwriting a few times, to varying degrees of not-success, and now we succumbed to straight lounging. But laughing, stretching, we distractedly, accidentally, started working. Throwing around lyrics, rhymes. I suggested a song form. She sang, I picked out chords on her keyboard.

For the first time in my life I wrote a song start-to-finish lying down.

And after, walking to my room, I felt so deeply restored.

In my creativity coaching I preach this: Creativity requires our energy on every level. Physical, mental, emotional, social, spiritual. Anyone interested in creating must become great at rest.

But now I wonder. Is creativity inherently depleting? Or do I just think it is because of how I do it?

I think it might be a bit of both. I think creativity is heightened and I don't want it to be otherwise. But I realize now, more often than not I create, as with many things I do, in fight-or-flight.

I think my creativity is not as exempt from my psychology as I thought. 

So returning to California, my mission changed. I'm less interested in interspersing effort with rest. I'm more interested in this question: How can I create as a form of rest?

With love,

Rachel

I told you about my wonderful feature in the San Francisco Chronicle before I knew the most remarkable part: I was on the cover of the Datebook! I promise you I didn't manifest this, because never in a million years did I imagine my work highlighted in such a way!

It really means so much to be championed by my beloved Bay Area.

You guys know I made a creativity app, right? She cute! She asks you 30 questions and you find out priceless information about your creative needs!

“WINDOWS (& SF CHRONICLE FEATURE)”

AUGUST 2025

Lovelies,

There are moments that stay with us forever. 

In some cases it's clear why. Something massive took place.

But sometimes it's like, what? THAT moment? I barely noticed it WHILE it was happening!

Last night I realized I've been carrying such a moment for quite some time. It came to me like this: I opened my bedroom window and let in the sounds of ever-active Claremont Avenue. And suddenly I remembered twenty years ago, midnight, lying in a West Berkeley bed with a love, listening to sounds off the street mixing with whatever we were spinning — David Gray or Sade I assume. I remembered I felt open like the window.

And I thought, now why is THAT moment hitting me with all the power of a formative event? 

Ah but it was a formative event.

I realize now, not only is it a trope of my life as a lover, it's a trope of my life as an artist. I am wildly open. No really, I took that NEO personality inventory and I'm 99% open. If it's in this world, I'm inviting it in. (To whatever extent I'm good at creating, I believe this is why.) But also, I am wildly sensitive. To let literally anything in is catastrophically destabilizing. (To whatever extent I'm good at creating, I believe this, also, is why.)

So picture me, my psyche an open window, closing all the windows. 

I can only imagine this is a balance required of many artists. How do we let ourselves be as open as our work commands and also support our sensitivity to survive it?

It must be this: There is defiance amidst openness that guides my best studio days. There is defiance amidst openness that guides my best song lyrics. 

Listening to the sounds off the street last night, I connected to every moment of my life where my openness and sensitivity held hands. And I relaxed in a way I haven't since the fire.

With all my love,

Rachel

I'm not the only one writing about my creative life this month! This week Andrew Gilbert submitted a positively beautiful feature about me to the San Francisco Chronicle — detailing how collaborating with Narada Michael Walden, producing twelve albums in three years, and coaching songwriters around the world led me to develop an app for creativity.

What a surreal thrill to experience my journey again through his eyes. You know someone is a great writer when they teach you about yourself! Shout out, too, to the wonderful photographer, Yoshi James, who did three amazing photo shoots to make sure she captured everything.

It was a gorgeous studio day with brilliant young artist Mira Multari. All summer I've felt awash with gratitude for this life of producing. It's like every session I feel more in sync with both my artists and my ability to serve their songs. This session was particularly buzzy because Mira's songs called for new things — her powerful vocals wanted a whole lotta space, and her sweet sensitivity wanted a whole lotta agro-fabulous (and some gentle-fabulous). As per usual it was all joy to work with Daniel Fabricant, Jason Slota, Max Cowan, Gabriel Shepard, and Karishma Kumar. (And the ghost of DePrato future!) I can't wait for you to hear this super cool thing we're making.

“ROMANCING NOTHING”

JULY 2025

Lovelies,

I've been on autopilot lately.

By lately I mean for a year.

I all but cry to disclose this. I value the examined life. The inhabited life. The RADICALLY LIVED life.

And yet for quite a while I've witnessed my life only as it recedes in the rearview mirror.

What on earth has befallen Our Lady of Introspection!

I think this:

Surviving a fire is many things. And it turns out one of them is SOCIAL! You would not BELIEVE how social surviving a fire is! You talk constantly to everyone. You make new friends. You live with friends. You recalibrate literally all of your relationships.

And:

Releasing an app is many things. And it turns out one of them is SOCIAL! You would not BELIEVE how social releasing an app is! You interview everyone. You meet artists and app developers and (god help me) marketing consultants. You have five meetings a day.

Our Lady of Introspection has been living a life outside of herself, and her internal life is overgrown with weeds.

But also this: Both the fire and the app changed me. And my old methods for tending myself -- DNRS, EFT -- have proven to no longer apply.

But all is not lost: Today I caught a lead.

I took the day off. Like WAY off. Like misanthropic off. I let my eyes go blurry and my mind go dizzy. I felt sad. I felt excited. I felt extremely tired. I had my first truly new ideas in weeks.

So until I'm graced with some new multi-lettered modality, I'm going with nothing. I'm going to romance nothing like it's the hottest girl at the bar. 

My plan is to do nothing until I witness myself, in the present tense, integrating the last year of my life.

With all my love,

Rachel

In other news, June was a fantastic return to producing. I began projects with pop heroine Frankie Bengtson (I mean she's truly extraordinary, watch this space, etc.) AND literary folk success story David Hobbes (our first outing, his debut album Searching for a Home, is at over 150K streams on Spotify alone).

I love my team: James DePrato (guitar), Jason Slota (drums), Daniel Fabricant (bass), Gabriel Shepard (engineer).

And I love, even beyond my impressive capacity for gratitude, this life where my job is to make music sound great. I told you last month that returning to my songs didn't feel like a homecoming. Well this month returning to PRODUCING did.

You know the drill: no music for ages. But please enjoy this photo evidence.