Do Your Work

You ever hear of Dean Briggs? I didn’t, until recently. Great quote by him, reminding us that it is not our leisure that brings us satisfaction and happiness, but our work. People who don’t work confound me. How much free time do you need? How do you achieve fulfillment, contentment? What do you do with all of that empty space in your heart?

(Netflix has entered the chat)

I’m not judging, or casting aspersions, I’ve just never understood it. And I don’t refer to sectegenarians or octogenarians who have earned rest and leisure, I’m talking about the able-bodied and energetic. Too much leisure time leaves you too much time to get in trouble, if you ask me.

Ah, the irony.

Dean:

Do your work.

Not just your work,

Do a little more.

But that little is worth more

Than all the rest.

And if you suffer,

As you must,

And if you doubt,

As you must,

Do your work.

Put your heart into it,

And the sky will clear.

Then out of your doubt and suffering

Will be born the supreme joy

Of life.

-Dean Briggs

More Soop For You

I am honored to have another story in the Chicken Soup for the Soul Series that is available on all outlets today. Unfortunately, owing to my complete hopelessness and lack of interest and regard for all that is social media, I have lost the social media toolkit in my email. Sorry, Shelby. I mean well. A picture is at the bottom. On the upside, I will be doing book signings in several Philadelphia Barnes and Nobles’ in the fall, as requested. More on that.

Regarding Art

(Regarding my ire over the hair debacle:

On Friday I stated, “Revenge is a dish best eaten when cold,” I refer, of course, not to burning down someone’s business, killing their family or reporting them to the IRS for tax evasion. As an introvert simply trying to live a quiet life, I am cognizant that arson, murder and extortion would not lend themselves to a peaceful existence. Ahem. No.

I simply mean that what goes around always comes around, without fail. I take no personal part in revenge. The Universe takes care of that for us, or didn’t you know that?)

I am currently involved in a number of writing projects, and it struck me this past weekend that the humanities is the only field where you are required to do the work FIRST, and then are obligated to spend all your time figuring out a way to get people to like it and hopefully hire you. No money, no guarantees. Virginia Woolf once said, “A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write.”

Take the following as examples of creators and their art:

Songwriter to Label: “I wrote these songs, can you listen to them and let me know if they have potential for the maintream?”

Artist to Gallery: “I’ve been painting these landscapes for five years, can I hang them on your walls?”

Dancer to Studio : “I’ve been dancing since I’ve been four years old and I put this routine together, would you mind watching it?”

Writer to Agent: “It took me ten years to write this screenplay, do you think it’s ready to send to a director in L.A.?”

And then we spend the rest of our days figuring out creative ways to convince the world to believe in it. Why do you think so many writers and artists don’t get famous until they’re dead? Because it took all that time for one specific person to sit down and read the play or look at the portrait and say:

“He was a genius!”

Exhausting. Can you imagine this taking place in any other field?

Surgeon: “Let me perform this heart surgery for free, and then let me know how you feel. I’m thinking of doing this for a living, but only if it’s profitable.”

Engineer: “Here’s this bridge I just built with my own money and own materials, whattya think? Wanna hire me for your firm?”

Lawyer: “I’m going to spend 20 hours a day litigating this case without charging you. Then I’ll do it ten more times, for free. If I win them, I’m considering being a lawyer full-time.”

Car Manufacturer: “Look at these Bentleys I just built. I’m going to give them away and see if people like them. If they do, maybe I’ll make more.”

If you are a writer, or know anyone who wants to be a writer, I have one piece of advice:

DON’T BUY BOOKS ON THE CRAFT OF WRITING IF YOU’RE LOOKING FOR ENCOURAGEMENT.

The people who write these books regale hopeful writers with 300 pages about the wonders of writing, but have to resist the urge to admit their book only needs one sentence:

Don’t bother trying to make a living as a writer, unless you have connections in the literary world, or you are already a social media sensation/celebrity.

This is not sour grapes. I have a fabulous opportunity in the fall to get my projects in the right hands. But I also see how long it has taken me to get here. And the writing world now is all about social media. I had an agent say the following to me:

“Don’t even bother sending a book proposal out until you have 10,000 social media followers.”

I appreciated his candor, and since that conversation, I have become more and more determined to circumnavigate around the world of teenage influencers, Tik Tok nonsense, and Facebook posting. If I can’t be the kind of writer I want to be without being on Tik Tok, then I’ll be a different kind of writer.

You heard it here first.

French Doors

I just finished reading David Sedaris’ new book Happy-Go-Lucky. It’s a good quick read, with Sedaris’ customary brand of humor. Not his best work, but when you’re writing about COVID, elderly parents dying in rest homes, child molestation, underage sex, and difficult life partners, even Sedaris’ humor can get, let’s say, a tad dark.

But only Sedaris could have handled these subjects with the aplomb, tact and honesty that he is known for. I have read every published word he has ever written, and I will continue to do so. I vow to you, right now, that one day I will meet three people:

David Sedaris

Mike Rowe

Joe Rogan

You heard it here first. I want to be on Joe Rogan’s podcast. Unfortunately for me, he doesn’t know this yet, which makes it tough to get booked.

Anyway, there is a chapter in Happy-Go-Lucky that takes place in France, where he and his partner Hugh have a small home. He discusses a boy named Olivier who develops a crush on Sedaris, and crawls through Sedaris’s window or walks in the house when he knows Sedaris is alone, trying to initiate sexual contact. Sedaris, of course, rebuffs the young boy, by yelling the oddest thing:

“Grandmother!”

After yelling “Grandmother!” Sedaris would run across the small road to Olivier’s grandmother’s house. The implication was obvious: “This is inappropriate, your grandmother is watching!” It is both a sad and hysterical perspective of young love and raging hormones.

But the part that struck me is when Sedaris mentioned that in France, everyone leaves their door open all the time, no matter what gets in. The doors stay open, period. And I wondered if that’s where we get French doors- you know, opening French doors to let the light and space in.

And I wonder if also, perhaps, my French heritage is to blame for the fact that I leave my front door open, all-year round, all-day long, weather permitting. I hate shutting my front door, and I have never known why.

When I purchased my front door during home renovations, I asked my contractor to put in a screen door, but he said it wouldn’t work, not with the door I wanted. So fine. I just started leaving the front door open all the time.

Yes, we get flies. Yes, Mr. Squirrel comes in at all times of the day. Two nights ago my son was making himself a salad, looked up, looked at me and said, deadpan:

“There’s a squirrel in the house.”

Mr. Squirrel is very bold and very greedy, and comes right up to the pantry door to wait for his peanuts. I drop a peanut right by my feet, and he has no fear. That way I get to hear his little feet making the little tap-tap-taps over my wooden floor as he goes back outside with his prize. Cutest thing. Even my son thought the sound was cute.

But encouraging him to come in is dumb. I know. He’s a rodent. He wouldn’t think twice about ransacking my house if I wasn’t home. He’s not a pet. I just can’t help it. For the first time in over ten years, I even got Mr. and Mrs. Duck to come in. They came right over the threshold to get their critter food of corn and sunflower seeds. My son witnessed it.

I shouldn’t encourage wild animals to come in my house. But what can I tell you? I’m French.

Summer Reading List 2022

I have compiled my summer reading list, and I’d like to share it with you today. I’m not saying you have to be honored, necessarily, but please understand I don’t normally share my summer reading list, as it is akin to baring my soul.

But I am too tired to be so difficult and uppity, so here ya go. Keep in mind that there is no junk fiction in here, but all philosophical, political and sociological nonfiction. Thanks to Mark Manson for many of these suggestions, and all of the “F” bombs. I overdid “F” bombs last week, these are his:

The Body Keeps the Score by Bessel Van Der Kolk. How trauma in childhood affects your decisions, even when you don’t know that something actually traumatized you.

The Paradox of Choice by Barry Schwartz- When you are given more choices in life, you become less satisfied with what you choose. More is less, says this tome.

The Blank Slate by Steven Pinker. We are susceptible to influences that shape us during our entire lives.

Getting the Love You Want by Harville Hendrix. This is a little corny of a book, but it deals with how our love maps form what we know to be true about relationships and love.

The Denial of Death by Ernest Becker. Most of our motivations in life are because we are terrified of dying. That’s why we undertake massive projects, so we will be remembered.

Influence by Robert Cialdini. The author explains how people are influenced in making their decisions.

Atomic Habits by James Clear. Clearn describes how our behavior is driven emotionally.

The Elephant in the Brain by Robin Hanson and Kevin Simler. We are all animals at heart, but we spend our entire lives trying to rationalize away our decisions.

Nonviolent Communication by Marshall Rosenberg. How much subtext and meaning is embedded in our language- “You made me feel angry,” or “Traffic ruined my day.” No. You made yourself angry, and you let traffic ruin your day.

The Coddling of the American Mind by Jonathan Haidt and Greg Lukianoff. Cut and dry? Parents and teachers are fucking up with the children in their care. Not us, of course, but, you know, other people.

So Good They Can’t Ignore You by Cal Newport. Most towns have their own version of “Daddy Ball.” You know, the fathers who coach the team so they can groom their own kid and put him and his friends in the most enviable positions, while the rest of our kids stand in the outfield or sit the bench. When Daddy Ballers tried that with my sons, their father always told them the same thing:

“Fuck them. Be so good that they can’t ignore you.” My boys worked toward that goal with everything they have ever done. The book follows the same theme.

The Psychology of Money by Morgan Housel. The gist? Nobody knows what the fuck they are talking about, especially me.

The Second Mountain by David Brooks. Everyone has two mountains they want to climb- the first is worldly success, and the second is purpose. In the middle is the pit of nihilism and despair.

Democracy for Realists by Christopher H. Achen and Larry Bartels. The book explains the answer to the question: Why are people so fucking stupid?

The Proposal

A former colleague contacted me recently to say hi, and came out with this question:

“What happened to that surfing book you were gonna write?”

Whoa. I hadn’t thought about that book for years. Let me explain.

When you write a nonfiction book and you want to get it published, you must submit a book proposal to either an agent or a publishing house. Book proposals are incredibly time-consuming to write and research, and take months and months to organize and format. Publishing now isn’t about the writing, but about the marketing. If you can’t prove that you can market it, don’t waste your time submitting. Just self-publish.

I have submitted three book proposals in my lifetime. The first was in the late 90’s, and was a book proposal that dealt with the humorous side of infertility. I was heartbroken because I couldn’t seem to get pregnant, so I figured if I couldn’t be a mommy, I would finally be an author. My proposal was rough and rudimentary, but I still have the note from the publisher:

Your proposal is well done. We’d like to see more. Please submit the next ten chapters.

This was fantastic news, but by then I had even better news: I had finally gotten pregnant. With twins.

And there went my life, and I stepped away from my writing for a long time. I obviously had no more infertility stories to tell since, well, I wasn’t infertile anymore.

Ten years later or so came the surfing book idea. By this time I was writing fairly regularly for The Philadelphia Inquirer, and I (and they) thought that traveling around New Jersey to all of the best surf breaks in each surf town would be a great idea for a book. Interview the local surfers, listen to their stories, etc. Local surfers are some pretty colorful individuals. If it went well, I thought I could expand the idea nationally, and visit the best surf breaks in the United States. I still love the idea.

What came of it? I will tell you what I told my friend. I really, really wanted to do it. I swear. I didn’t give it up out of laziness, or indifference. Nope.

I couldn’t get a publishing house to pay for my expenses. The only way I could do it was if I retired from teaching. If I was going to leave my babies, I needed to be reimbursed.

Nope.

So I shelved the idea, and got back to writing columns and teaching.

Present day: This third book proposal continues to morph, but this is the one. I now have the time, the platform and the visibility.

I hope I’ve cleared that up. Twenty-five years ago, my column byline was “Mary Oves is writing a book about surfing.” It was accurate at the time, just never came to fruition.

Maybe one day I’ll do it.

Jumbled

I’m back into word finds.

As my semester ends, my brain is suddenly free to wander where it will. And while I keep it busy with books and writing and some part-time work, my hand is still drifting to my phone more times than makes me comfortable. I need something mindless, easy, and comfortable.

Word finds. I have always loved word finds. And while crossword puzzles entertain me, they are too cerebral, and only one step away from the writing and thinking process, something I try to avoid too much of in the summer. Crosswords are all about definitions, etymology, derivation, tense.

Nope. Not this time.

I didn’t walk into the bookstore with much hope. Word finds are incredibly antiquated, aren’t they? Am I the only human being on earth who doesn’t play games on her phone? Who likes to use a sharpened pencil?

But I moved forward undaunted, until I drifted through the magazine section, turned the corner, when suddenly…

Whoa, momma. Mother lode! So there are others out there like me! Puzzle books galore, dozens of them- large print, small print, crosswords, word finds, jumbles, sudoku, combination books. I found a book with the perfect font size and themed puzzles, paid my $3.99, and walked out happy.

So now when I want to give my brain a break, I’ll do a puzzle for a few minutes. Instead of walking into the kitchen for some pretzels during a commercial, I’ll find a few words instead. When I sit outside to enjoy the sun, I’ll enjoy a puzzle. I will rip one out and put it into my work folder, and when a have a minute of quiet at work, I’ll open the folder and surreptitiously find a word or two.

It calms my mind, and it is so satisfying. Choosing a themed puzzle. Settling into my comfy chair, or onto the patio. Grabbing a pencil, sharpening it in the pencil sharpener. Finding all of the left-to-right horizontal words first. Leaving the puzzle for a few minutes or a few hours, knowing I can pick up right where I left off, with no fuss or bother.

So if you’re still looking for a Mother’s Day present, get one for mom for Mother’s Day, wrapped around a bottle of wine, or chocolates, or a candle. Because we’re all a bunch of old dorks at heart.

You’ll be her hero.

Pre-Game Thoughts

Mothers in literature and film is my theme for the week. To begin:

“The truth is that motherhood is a hero’s journey. For most of us it’s not a journey outward, to the most fantastic and farthest-flung places, but inward, downward, to the deepest parts of your strength, to the innermost buried core of everything you are made of but didn’t know was there… You have to realize that while you were blissed out on your mother’s lap, one of those epic battles, the kind that envelops heroes as they fight their way out of a ring of fire, was raging just above your head. No one wants to believe that in the moments you felt the most peaceful, the woman cradling you so softly was shielding you from a sword that she herself was holding.” (New York Magazine)

Living Proof

I’m not really a fiction-reading individual anymore, unless it’s classical literature. With the exception of the brilliant Ferrante novels, commercial fiction just doesn’t feel relevant to me. The last fiction book I really remember being knocked out by was The Help. I identified not only with the characters and the narrative, but the thematic implications of risking your life (figuratively or literally) for what you believe in. The movie “The Help” makes me cry in ten different ways, as does this song, one of my favorites to play when I doubt myself. 

So today I will let beautiful Mary J. Blige serenade you with her beautiful voice. Don’t mistake the courage and power in the lyrics for arrogance. This song is about abject humility to one’s beliefs, dignity, courage and God. 

Enjoy.

Nom de Plume

I’ve been thinking a lot about my future pen name- you know, like Theodore Geisel had “Dr. Seuss.” Stephen King used “Richard Bachman.” Mary Anne Evans used “George Eliot.” So I typed some personal information into a pen name database. It asked me questions about my personality, likes and dislikes, various moods and temperaments.

Here were the possibilities for my future nom de plume:

M.D. Eviscerating-Satire

Oves MaBlood

M.D. Satire-Blackoves

Marti O. Threat

Maree Piss Ant

Let me know which one you like. They all have such…potential.