Quitting Amazon, winning the Southern Book Prize

These things are unrelated. I think.

I canceled my Amazon Prime subscription in February.

In the most absurdly ridiculous way, the decision felt agonizing.

Amazon sends me my dog food each month, my dry shampoo, the flax seeds I put in my smoothies. My Amazon delivery folks had become a part of my everyday life.

Bezos, et al sunk their hooks into me in the mid-2010s. Back then, I had two very young kids to care for. I worked 37.5 hours a week in an office. I did more work from my home. Back then, I didn’t have time to go to the pet store and the beauty store and the health-food store. So, I went to Amazon. And like a can of Pringles, once I started, I couldn’t stop.

Photo by Adeel Shabir on Unsplash

That “place” became my go-to source for gifts, for books, for clothes that never (ever) fit properly, but that often felt too cheap to return. When one and two-day shipping became the Amazon Prime standard, that was where I got batteries, light bulbs, super glue. If I was feeling sad: add to cart. Happy: add to cart!! Bored and restless: fuck the cart, buy now!

Then along came 2025. And with it the Billionaires Ball of inaugurations with none other than Mr. Bezos front and center. With the federal government quickly being dismantled, with horrendous cuts to National Parks, USAID, libraries, education and even food banks, with those “savings” being passed UP to the ball-worthy billionaires in the form of lucrative contracts and tax cuts for the rich that “will amount to an average of $61,090 for the top 1%, and $252,300 for the top one-tenth of the 1%,” per Boston’s WBUR, it’s easy to feel helpless — hopeless.

For me, getting rid of Amazon has been one of the few small ways of giving myself some semblance of a voice in this mess.

Where we spend our dollars matters.

While my decision to quit Amazon was fueled by anti-billionaire rage, the move has opened my eyes to so many things. The reason companies like Amazon thrive is because of how hard we must work to simply get by.

It was entirely too easy for me to spend too much time at my job (and my second job, and my third job), when I was having my laundry detergent and underwear Prime-shipped from Amazon. I could go to a store after work, or I could crash on the couch and doom-scroll through Instagram, where another billionaire would show me all the cute crop tops I didn’t need, many of which linked back to, yep, Amazon.

Since quitting Amazon, I’ve learned to carve out time to shop more intentionally, which means I’m shopping far less. I’ve rediscovered local favorites like Remedies Parlor, Jennifer’s and the hyperlocal gift shop inside the Alliance for the Arts. I’m ordering books through Blinking Owl Books’ page on bookshop.org — or in person at the shop itself. I’ve turned to Chewy for my dog-food deliveries (Prices are actually better than Amazon, and it’s been much more consistent). Costco doesn’t have flax seeds, but it does have chia seeds, and I’m there twice a month anyway. And my dry shampoo, it turns out, can be bought directly from its website at a 15% savings — which is true of almost every product on Amazon.

Will it be at my doorstep in 24-48 hours? Unlikely. But at least that bit of my money isn’t fueling the world’s first trillionaires. (Now please excuse me while I dry heave.)

More little things that are getting me by

• Calling my reps and letting them know which issue I’m most concerned about today. It’s part of my morning routine. In my dozens of calls, only once (sorry Byron Donalds’s assistant, I was not prepared for human interaction) has someone actually answered. Usually they go to voicemail, which feels like a confessional, and a great way to get things off your chest. New to calling your reps? Here’s a handy guide from 5 Calls that walks you through it. Ready to get started? Save this number in your phone: 202-224-3121. This is the switchboard to the U.S. Capitol. Call and, when prompted, say the name of your chosen senator or representative, and it will forward you to their office. Not sure who your reps are? Find them here.

• Getting local. Your city and county officials have A LOT of power, and if you really hate calling, they’re often responsive to email.

• Staying close with friends. If 2025 has had a silver lining, it’s the folks I’ve reconnected and re-bonded with through all of this. Reach out to your people. Especially the ones who may be struggling — federal workers, those in academia, gay friends, trans friends, immigrant friends, POC friends. You know, basically anyone who’s not in the top 1/10th of the 1%. Ask them how they’re coping. Ask them how you can help. We need each other. We are stronger together.

In book news

The reason this newsletter is a month late: I’ve been busy, y’all.

Let’s back track it …

At the signing table with Mari Linares at the SWFL Reading Festival March 1

• I had the pleasure of being part of the Talking Points lecture series at Big Arts Sanibel yesterday. Thank you so much to the Big Arts board, including the inimitable Arlene Dillon, for having me.

• Earlier this month, I spoke with students in Madison Garber’s undergraduate English class at FAU. They asked the most thoughtful and incisive questions. I love that these Florida kids connected so deeply with this Florida book.

• On March 1, I joined an incredible lineup of authors for the SWFL Reading Festival in downtown Fort Myers. To be honest, I hadn’t been to the fest in almost a decade, and it was so wonderfully heartening to see the event thriving with huge crowds and long lines of book lovers.

• OK. I may have buried the lede. On Feb. 14, I learned that “The Mango Tree” won the 2025 Southern Book Prize for nonfiction, making me the first Filipino American author and — I think!? — the first Asian American author to win in that category. Past winners of the SBP include the legendary likes of Ann Patchett, Carl Hiaasen and Coretta Scott King (and … JD Vance lololololll). To say I am gob-smacked is putting it mildly. Thank you to Charles Runnells at The News-Press for this story. And thank you to Grace McClung of The Independent Florida Alligator for this lovely piece, in which she interviewed two of my best friends and fellow Gators (shout out to Beaty Towers Wessssst!!!). Last but certainly not least, thank you to the indie booksellers who chose this book and to YOU, dear reader, for taking the time to vote for it. Your support is everything.

Upcoming events

The thing about winning such a cool prize: Life stays busy.

Here’s what’s on the docket.

April 4-5 @ M.F.K. Fisher Symposium, Women in Food & Storytelling, Nashville TN: This two-day event will bring together women from across the worlds of journalism, food writing, media, PR and more. Details here.

April 9 — 7-8 p.m. @ Tombolo Books, St. Petersburg FL: Tombolo welcomes Florida poet Yael Valencia Aldana to the bookstore for a National Poetry Month event for her award-winning collection Black Mestiza. Valencia Aldana will be in conversation with fellow Florida author Annabelle Tometich! Details here.

April 10 — 5-7 p.m. @ Jennifer’s, Fort Myers FL: Come hang out for a free book signing and party at this local boutique in the Design Center, 13251 McGregor Blvd., Fort Myers.

May 15 @ St. Petersburg — save the date for a mango-themed feast as award-winning chef Dalia Colón, author of the Florida Vegetarian Cookbook, interviews Florida author Annabelle Tometich at this unique event blending food and Florida lit. Details coming soon.

May 16-17 @ Corpus Christi Literary Reading Series, Corpus Christi TX: Details to come

July 28 @ Camden Public Library, Camden ME: Join me and James Beard Award winner Abi Balingit, author of “Mayumu: Filipino American Desserts Remixed” for an evening of food and fun. Details to come.