Let The Dog Sing delves into creativity, vitality, connection. I write about parenting, marriage, psychedelic therapy, books, writing, and abortion rights. All the important stuff.

all about the author

My name is Melanie Senn, but my people call me Mel.

I’ve lived in San Luis Obispo, California, for the last 25 years and taught writing at Cal Poly for 17 of them. I’m a freelance journalist and lived in Mexico, Chile, and Argentina. My first published work of fiction is Murray: A Novel. It’s based on the true story of Murray Hall, a Scottish immigrant who lived as a man in the 1800s in New York City, became a prominent politician, married twice, adopted his daughter, and died of untreated breast cancer in 1901. Walt Whitman plays a part in the novel; he's buried in the city where I was born, Camden, in New Jersey.

I’m an unapologetic seeker. I’m friendly but reclusive. Susan Cain’s book Quiet is making me realize that I’m quite the introvert—and that introverts are not necessarily shy! I’m not shy! I just like a lot of solitude. I’ve been married for 25 years to the musician Derek Senn and for a brief spell played in a rock duo, The Wedding Industrial Complex. He played electric guitar and sang and I drummed. Here’s an audio essay I made from that era, “The Art of Drumming Badly.” But really, Derek and I mostly practice parallel play, which my child-development friend says is like two toddlers playing next to each other but doing their own thing. Someday I’ll write a book called “Long Marriage.” Here’s a song Derek wrote about us:  

A stark contrast to my erratic childhood and youth during which I lived in many different dwellings, Derek and I have lived in the same house for 21 years. We’ve cooked thousands of meals in our 9’ x 9’ 1940s kitchen with its original Wedgewood, especially since our boys became voracious teenagers (last week the two of them ate 48 eggs in four days). Our little living room has old couches, several guitars, a cajon, a piano, a ukulele, stacks of books, plants, a few buddhas, and usually napping furry mammals.

Dreaming matters to me, both the sleeping and waking kinds. I’m more Jung than Freud. I was raised by a mother who did my astrological chart before I was one year old, and so that ancient art is ingrained in me. My sun sign is in Capricorn and my moon and rising sign are in Cancer. I’m an optimist and pragmatist and share a birthday with William James and Alexander Hamilton. I like to joke that I planned my astrological house—married a Scorpio and gave birth to a Pisces and then a Virgo. Our house has two water signs and two earth signs; in the Chinese Zodiac we are two dogs and two pigs. Harmony, except for the fact that our teenage sons are astrological polar opposites, which makes it a little Cain and Abel in our house at times. Here’s a video of them dualing as children, which probably says something about my parenting philosophy. And now, years later, my nest is almost empty. It’s been a good run—the best.

At the beginning of 2022, I participated in a clinical trial for psychedelic therapy—specifically psilocybin (the ingredient that makes magic mushrooms magic). The clinical trial lasted ten weeks and included prep and integration for two trips, which were guided by a neurosurgeon and a licensed psychotherapist, The journeys were profound and life-changing.

I was forgiven and forgave, my atheism was cured, my fear of death squashed. I’m still mining the material. The Japanese writer Haruki Murakami made a cameo appearance. So did Brenda, my mom. Not much of a crier, I bawled my eyes out about my father (he died at 53, the age I am as I type this).

The journeys were a gateway not to more tripping but to meditation. I’m working on a nonfiction book about these last few years since I turned 50, including the clinical trial, called “Let the Dog Sing: Seeking Transcendence in the Middle of Life.” Or rather, I’m procrastinating working on it. I’ve got a messy 600-page draft that’s patiently waiting for me to dive in and start editing…

So I’ve morphed my original Substack newsletter about abortion rights “The Quickening” into “Let the Dog Sing.” Do I still care about abortion rights? I can’t even express how important reproductive rights are for equality, for democracy, for autonomy, for a healthier, happier society. But others are writing about it more deeply and frequently. So I’m going to write about what I’m excited about writing about—unwieldly, wild, arcane things. And sometimes just a book review.

Thanks for stopping by and don’t hesitate to reach out mel@melaniesenn.com

P.S.

If I am ever interviewed by Tim Ferris and he asks me about my favorite purchase for under $100, this is what I am going to tell him. It actually works. Kill your Television. Kill all of them!