This week, my new book came out. I would say that this is an important moment, except essays like “How To Make Out With A Raccoon” and “Why Carrots Should Be Afraid Of Me” don’t sound very important.
But if you like to laugh: Click here for the paperback.
If you have a Kindle, click here (Note: the book is free through Kindle Unlimited).
As a teacher and writer, I’m constantly thinking about the trap of social media, how much time it takes, the emotional trade off, and how little I learn, all of this balanced by the relationships I make online (which I do value). So is it worth it?
I also think a lot about how much we consume in our culture – entertainment-wise – rather than create, the scales not being balanced in the least. I worry about each time I zone out watching a screen for more than a few minutes. If I want to create, and to create quality work, I have to consume less and create more. And when I do consume, it has to be high-quality art (great books, poetry, lyrical rappers, paintings, sculpture, essays, etc.).
But that’s me – how I would say it. Here’s someone else’s voice…
Quoting Benjamin P. Hardy (from Medium):
“Invest At Least 80% Of Your “Off” Time Into Learning
Most people are consumers rather than creators.
They are at work to get their paycheck, not to make a difference.
When left to their own devices, most people consume their time as well. It is only by investing your time that you get a return on that time.
Nearly every second spent on social media is consumed time. You can’t have that time back. Rather than making your future better, it actually made your future worse. Just like eating bad food, every consumed moment leaves you worse off. Every invested moment leaves you better off.
Entertainment is all well and good. But only when that entertainment is an investment in your relationships or yourself. You’ll know if it was an investment if that entertainment continues to yield returns over and over in your future. That may include positive memories, transformational learning, or deepened relationships.
Even still, life isn’t purely about being entertained. Education and learning is also key. And although both are essential, education will provide far greater returns in your future.
The world’s most successful people are intense learners. They are hard readers. They know that what they know determines how well they see the world. They know that what they know determines the quality of relationships they can have and the quality of work they can do.
If you are constantly consuming junk media, how can you possibly expect to create high value work? Your input directly translates to your output. Garbage in, garbage out.”
Pretty good, right? Blunt and to the point, but accurate.
On the topic of high-quality art, here are three novels I’ve read this year that were incredible:
1. Zadie Smith’s NW (Note: the structure of this book is so mind-blowing, it could never be made into a movie.)
2. James Welch’s Fools Crow (US and native history collide with fiction – I’ve thought about the perspective in this book every day for two months, since I finished it).
3. Kent Haruf’s Our Souls At Night (I don’t know if I’ve ever read protagonists as real as the ones in this book).
Dear Anyone Who Has An Instagram From Your Baby’s Perspective,
Please don’t. That account isn’t cute. Your kid poops his pants and doesn’t speak English, and you’re not kidding anyone. You just want more attention. That’s what the internet has always been about for you. The little witticisms aren’t funny and the hashtags are even worse. No kid types #blessed. Or #momsgreat. Or #thatsmydad.
Also, I don’t want to point out the obvious here, but your kid isn’t even strong enough to hold a phone for a selfie. He doesn’t have enough facial muscle-tone to make Duck Face.
Finally, I don’t like YOUR instagram account. Why would I want another one also produced by you.
I realized – last night – that I was going to see my mom (who’s here, visiting from Arizona), and that I smelled terrible and couldn’t remember the last time that I’d showered. Friday maybe? Or maybe it was Thursday? I know I paddled the river on Saturday, which is pretty much the same as showering…
Since that river bath, over the next five days, I’d climbed twice, biked six times, gone for a run, played soccer twice, and lifted weights four times. Plus there’s that whole Summer Sun Angle (Heat) = Sweat thing.
I’d also mowed the lawn, worked in the yard, gardened, and picked up dog poop in the sun three times.
For my mom, I took a shower.
Teachers and professors tell young writers, “Write what you know.” And there’s a certain truth to that idea. If I try to write about a cricket match, but I don’t know anything about the game, have never played it, have never watched it, don’t know the rules, and am not sure I can name 5 countries where the sport is played, I’m not going to write an excellent scene that includes the sport.
In the same way, being a high school teacher and having a teenager myself, I recognize when “young adult” authors clearly don’t know much about teenagers and are too far removed from the personal experience to do the subject justice. Their “teenagers” – for example – never swear or only think & act in culturally competent ways.
So writing what you know is a good piece of advice. Or maybe it’s not…
Recently, an editor told me that I couldn’t have a Latino narrator in one of my stories because I wasn’t “Mexican enough.” That’s a strange thing to say in any context, but especially odd since my grandmother is Mexican and I do speak and read Spanish. But apparently – in that editor’s eyes – this piece of fiction was an example of me trying to write what I didn’t know.
I recognize that politically correct mores have permeated everything in our culture – and I’m sure that this particular editor is simply a politically correct conservative – but her command (her imperative?) made me think of the idea on a larger scale.
Should Margaret Atwood not have written the science fiction novel within The Blind Assassin?
Should Cormac McCarthy not have written John Grady’s Mexican prison scenes simply because McCarthy had never been incarcerated?
Should Toni Morrison not have any Caucasian characters or narrators in any of her novels or stories?
Again, I could go on and on.
And where would this idea stop? What would be its limit? Why would we allow for this type of censorship of creative possibilities?
So – to keep this piece short – I’d say that instead of the old “write what you know” adage, I’d say it’s fine (and good) to write what you don’t know as long as you’re willing to learn about it.
With encyclopedias, empathy, books, neighbors, friends, coffee shops, Youtube, relatives, films, traveling, and curiosity as basic starting points, what can we not learn? What can we not write about?
Plate-glass morning water with fish shatters. A hummingbird drops over the tent and hangs in the space created by the rain.
I read a Carol Shields novel and the daylight sneaks through the leaves of the cottonwood, white and green.
It rained steady all evening, and starting a fire was like baking without sugar or flour. But now the sky is striped by blue between clouds, and I think, “How many people in history have tried to write about clouds?”
Nubes como las olas…
Nubes sin mala intención…
Drifting thoughts of clouds…
Or some other cliché…
Better ideas waiting that I’ve never had…
It would be easy to steal. To Thomas Edison. To feed an image of greatness. “Look at me, a worker, a brilliant mind.”
But I am not brilliant. My mind is not a rare jewel. I only observe what is around me. Seeing the green grasshoppers collecting on my legs at the river’s edge. The blue heron shushing across to the other side. The osprey sitting sentinel on the fence-post above the cutbank. Flipping my spinner under the branch in four feet of water and the rainbow trout hitting the Rooster Tail in the first rotation of the reel.
We use two rocks as a plate and eat the fish with our fingers. Skin salted with Johnny’s, MSG, meat blackened over a stick-fire. Hot Tang and Folgers from boiled river water.
These are no proverbs.
These are no parables.
This is only the first day. How it is. How it was.