If you’ve attended a public or private school anywhere in a country that does not experience a regular shortage of books or papers or pencils or buildings, then it’s quite likely that you’ve heard the phrase “required reading.”

What does it mean?

We know that reading is one of the three ‘R’s (which is a little sneaky, if you ask me, because I got a swat on the hand by a nun weilding a nine foot long wooden ruler if I so much as thought of calling it ‘rithmetic).  The other two are, of course, reading and riting.

In my day, which took place between Kennedy’s assassination and Nixon’s impeachment, we were provided an annual reading list.  For each title, we were to read the book and write a 250-500 word report on it.

Since achieving a degree from some alphabet soup of a university, I’ve never ever EVER had to write a book report.  Ever.  I’ve writtten reports on aging, on medicine, on what to do when your dog won’t stop throwing up in your shoes, but never have I ever been required to write a book report.

Oh, I suppose those of you gentle readers who feel you didn’t actually write enough reports in school can go to Amazon (the online mega giant, not the jungle) or Barnes & Noble and write cutesy little book reviews and pretend they’re well thought out, thesis-laden reports, but you’re only kidding yourself. Why? Because books you choose to read cannot also be considered as report material.  It’s the universal law of something or other.

Whose bright idea was it to tell kids — who will fake their own deaths just to get out of doing homework — that they would be assigned the most boring, soul-numbing, and brain-draining books ever written, and then have to write a report on it.  “It’s required reading.”

Has any child since the beginning of time ever done as they were told?

Neoprotozoic Mother: Jeff, you are required to go fetch us some dinner.  And hurry it up, you know how your father likes his rock salad cold.”

Jeff: …

NM: Jeffrey, did you hear me?

Jeff: YES, mom, geez!

2 hours later…

NM: Where have you been? Your father’s out looking for you!

Jeff: I went to get dinner, like you said.

NM: Well? Where is it?

Jeff: What do you mean? I ate it.

NM: You what?

Jeff: You didn’t tell me to bring it back.  I ate it.

Jeff is grounded until the next Ice Age. 

It’s hardwired into our brains to balk at things we’re forced to do. When we know we have to, we rebel like every single living being before us. This demanding that our children must do this or that before they can move onto the next grade isn’t a successful plan. Though the act of reading is important, considering that every day we are faced with thousands of words delievered either through our vocal cords, our fingers (for the non-speakers), and through signs and manuals and what have you.  The iTunes agreement that maybe three people in all of humanity has ever read, contains nearly every word in human language.  And still we don’t read it.

A reading list from my school days might’ve looked something like this:

Siddhartha

The Scarlet Letter

The Great Gatsby

To Kill A Mockingbird

Lord of the Flies

Animal Farm

The Catcher in the Rye

Of Mice and Men

I’ll admit it: I was a book nerd.  There was nothing I liked more than to sneak away from my chores at home, climb a tree and lose myself in the words and exciting imagery each auther penned just for me. I was forced to hide my nerdiness, but I was quite adept at it.

So here’s the thing…

Recently I found myself with a ten day hospital stay.  When you’re drugged and then forced to pee in a cup at the demand of a nurse you could swear was also your third grade teacher, Mrs. Eyetic, you find your tastes have changed.  On this particular stay, I found a much-read, dogeared copy of Walden by Henry David Thoreau left behind in the cafeteria.  I stuck it furtively beneath my hospital johnnie, hoping they didn’t have shoplifting alarms at the door. It was another staple of the unimaginative reading list from days of yore.  It was one book I detested.  Back then, I imagined that Thoreau’s name was just another euphemism for “thorough,” because he didn’t miss a trick.  Not once in 300-something pages did he say anyting that made a lick of sense. However, I had nothing but time on my hands and Thoreau was as good as anything at putting me to sleep.  So I stole it. And then….I read it.

It’s funny how nearly forty years later, a book you despised with every hormone of your young teenage life could suddenly speak directly to you in words that flowed like the water into the mythical pond.

Since I had pretty much liberated it from the hospital,  and it was in pretty bad shape, I began underlining passages that continued to speak to me in profound ways. And it got me to thinking.

When we’re forced (0r required) to perform some task that my be odious or boring to us, we tend to approach that task with a degree of distaste. Books are the same. When we’re allowed to come to the books in our own time and in our own way, we come to the task thinking we’ve exercised our free will, and are much more likely to not only enjoy the book, but find connections to the writer’s words. Not superficial words like one might find in a tawdry airport paperback. Words that mean something.  And then we might find that several days, or weeks, or months later, those very same words mean something completely different but equally profound. Yet, had we allowed ourselves to be forced to read it earlier than we were ready to, we would have missed those profoundities forever.

Is required reading healthy? It may seem so now that social media seems to have replaced classics like Dickens and Twain and Orwell. Much of our culture disappears minute by minute.

Several years ago I worked in the Colorado Governor’s office and my coworker sat several feet away. As near as I could tell, she was just about half my age, but was incredibly skilled in her job. One day we were talking about something as we worked, and I happened to mention Dean Martin. I think it was a music reference.

“Who’s Dean Martin?” she asked.  I stared at her for several uncomfortably long moments trying to determine if she was joking. However, she seemed sincere.

“You’ve never heard of Marting? Lewis and Martin?  You do know who Jerry Lewis is, right?”

She shook her head, her shiny if severe hair bob dancing under the flourescent lights.

“Sammy Davis Junior?”

Another shake of her head.

“You have to at least have heard of Frank Sinatra.” If she said no, I would determine she was pulling my leg.

Yet she shook her head now.  So I found myself explaining to her all about the Rat Pack and their influence on the entertainment world, up to and including the annual telethon for Muscular Dystrophy. That conversation, as one-sided as it was, was definitely a wake up call.

Like cursive writing, which has been discontinued in most, if not all, of the school systems in the U.S., required reading might very well be going to the same way: obsolescence.

You can learn an amazing amount about how to write science fiction from reading Robert A. Heinlein. And like many authors, he produced a list of “rules” that helped him sculpt a career that reflects the times in which he lived, and create a reputation that took him to the top of many reading lists in his chosen genre.

1.) You must write.
2.) You must finish what you write.
3.) You must refrain from rewriting, except to editorial order.
4.) You must put the work on the market.
5.) You must keep the work on the market until it is sold.

Been a tough day of being outside the apartment running errands, getting to appointments, and taking care of myself, mentally, physically, and emotionally. The day got me thinking about the fact that I just made a HUGE investment in my writing career, that will (fingers crossed!) take me to the point where I’m seeking agent representation and the sale of my first book. The end goal is to have everything come to fruition in 2023 or before. I’ve been focused on healing my core wounds, but being able to present them in the bodies of my fictional characters. It’s been 12 years since starting this journey, and there’s a finish line in sight…one of many. I haven’t felt “ready” to tell this story until this past year. Since recognizing that I am ready, I’ve been honing my writing chops and putting to use all that I have learned. It’s a very big deal for me, because Depression, Sensory Processing Sensitivity (SPS) and cPTSD never allowed me to feel “worthy” of my creativity. Now I KNOW I’m worthy of being successful, perhaps beyond my wildest dreams. I may be less available or visible on social media, but trust there’s an excellent reason for it. I’m ready. And I’m ready to kick some fucking ass. Peace.

4 Tips On Creativity From The Creator Of Calvin & Hobbes

I saw this article in Fast Company a few months back and in reading it, I realized how important comic strips had been in my adult life. Doonesbury. The Far Side. Bloom County. And, of course, Calvin & Hobbes.

Calvin & Hobbes was created by Bill Watterson. And in the documentary Stripped, which came out in 2014, the famously “media averse” cartoonist, provided 4 tips on creativity:

1. You Have To Lose Yourself In Your Work
“My comic strip was the way that I explored the world and my own perceptions and thoughts. So to switch off the job I would have had to switch off my head. So, yes, the work was insanely intense, but that was the whole point of doing it.”

2. Create For Yourself
“Quite honestly I tried to forget that there was an audience. I wanted to keep the strip feeling small and intimate as I did it, so my goal was just to make my wife laugh. After that, I’d put it out, and the public can take it or leave it.”

3. Make It Beautiful
“My advice has always been to draw cartoons for the love of it, and concentrate on the quality and be true to yourself. Also try to remember that people have better things to do than read your work. So for heaven’s sake, try to entice them with some beauty and fun.”

4. Every Medium Has Power
“A comic strip takes just a few seconds to read, but over the years, it creates a surprisingly deep connection with readers. I think that incremental aspect, that unpretentious daily aspect, is a source of power.”

In translating these four tips to screenwriting and TV writing, #1 would seem pretty obvious: We need to be so passionate about our stories that we are able to fully immerse ourselves in them.

#2 is totally counterintuitive. In fact, one of the earliest lessons I learned in Hollywood was the importance of answering this question about any project we write: Who is the audience? The answer had better be somebody other than “Myself” to gain traction with studio buyers.

#4 is another one that seems rather obvious. Movies and TV have power. If anything, we writers need to embrace that potential, especially the visual elements in our scripts.

It’s #3 that grabbed my attention: “Try to entice them with beauty and fun.” I’d never put those two together in one sentence re movies and TV, but when I read it, the words resonated with me.

Whether the script is a drama, thriller, horror, comedy or another genre, we need to maximize the potential for fun in any story we write. In this respect, fun can be dramatics, thrills, chills, laughs and anything else that grabs our attention as a script reader.

Beauty: I don’t think there’s a definition that does this concept justice in relation to movies and TV. As the saying goes, “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” But if I were forced to parse Beauty in relation to screenwriting, I come up with these three aspects:

* Authenticity: Create a story universe and characters who feel real, no matter the setting, year or particular circumstance. A script reader cannot allow him/herself to experience beauty unless they believe the writer knows what the hell they’re talking about.

* Passion: When a writer is wholly enraptured by a story’s material, that emotional and personal resonance can help lift a story up and off its written pages.

* Inspiration: Whatever the genre, whatever the story, a reader can experience beauty if they feel the writer’s creative inspiration for that story… if they can identify with some universal truth therein… if they connect with the characters and live vicariously through them in their own transformation-journeys.

“Make it beautiful,” Watterson says. A worthy ambition for any writer.

From “Go Into The Story,” December 8, 2017, by Scott Myers

I get asked an unusual question fairly frequently.  To my way of thinking, I wouldn’t consider it anything different than anyone else does, but I suppose that once I scrutinize it, it does come across as a rather interesting trait. 

Time management.  

When it’s brought to our attention, we might suddenly think, Hmmm, I thought everyone did it this way. And by “this way,” I mean that we run hither and yon trying to make sure we we get what we need from the store, the kids picked up from school, the mortgage payment to the bank….an entire arm’s length list of things that “have” to be done. 

In my twenties, I was the King of overcommitting. I said yes to everything and figured I’d get it done somehow. That, of course, wasn’t a very efficient way of doing things, and I disappointed a LOT of people.  See, it’s part of the “people pleasing” mentality that many of us learned as children.  It’s not our parents fault, because they probably learned from their parents and so on. However, some of us never outgrow it and we continue to feel that we’re somehow failing all of humanity because we’re not superheroes. 

In my thirties, I was beginning to see that saying “yes” to everything not only kept me hopping unnecessarily, it definitely cost me a lot of sleep.  There’s a certain wisdom that comes with aging.  Yes, not everyone will admit to it, but it’s true.  It’s a hard-won type of wisdom, wisdom our younger selves might have scoffed at. 

That wisdom: It’s okay to not please everyone.  At the end of the day, the only person you only ever need to please is yourself. This might sound, at first hearing, somewhat selfish to say. But what happens to us when we’re not getting our own needs met?  We tend to be overly tired, or frustrated, or cranky or mad. 

Why do you think that shen flying on an airliner, the staff tells you to ALWAYS put your own oxygen mask on first in the case of an emergency?  

Because we can’t help others if we are unconscious. 

As a writer, not only am I required to hold the characters and stories in my head at all times, but I must also get my needs met outside  of writing. The rent must get paid, so I must make sure there’s money coming in, the bills must also get paid….and not all of us can afford an assistant to do those things for us.  Nor do all of us have a spouse to carry some of that weight.  So that means that we must survive on our own in our own ways. 

So it becomes crucial that we don’t allow ourselves to get buried under a crapalanche of stuff.  Ther more things we own, the more maintenance must be done on them.  For cars, that makes sense. Not so much for an aquarium that holds only saltwater fish or anemones. Or a huge yard that must be mowed weekly. There are so many ways we can pare downtown the absolute necessities. I use the need/want method.  What do I need, and what do I want. 

I want a new computer and monitor and printer.  But the one I have is only a few years old, so I don’t need it. Or new laundry machines. Or a mountain bike. 

Time management starts with what we perceive to be priorities.  I’d venture to say that if you sat down and made a list of the things you absolutely NEED and compare it with what you think you WANT, you’d get a really clear picture of what I’m saying. 

Try ridding yourself of one “want” a month.  Something that really brings you no joy or fulfills you in any meaningful way. We have a certain sense of entitlement that is slowly smothering us. We’re becoming buried under things and obligations that should never have been made a priority. 

Take as much time as you need.  Rid yourself of one thing a month.  Or a quarter if monthly is too much.  However, if you go much beyond that, you won’t succeed. 

I made a living for fifteen years organizing other people’s lives.  How can I help you with yours? 

Those who sometimes get asked that question have a steep advantage over the rest of us.  They’ve “made it.” It’s like asking Brad Pitt what it’s like being an actor.  Or Tom Cruise.  Audiences want to hear about the new house they just bought in Aspen, or the new Ferrari they added to their collection of 21. Audiences want to dream, as if they were starring in their own version of “Lifestyles of the Rick and Famous,” replete with Robin Leach announcing their every bowel movement.  

But those answers are cheating. 

Or are they? 

Who really wants to know that J.K. Rowling was living on welfare and on the brink of being evicted before her first Harry Potter book hit? That’s not glamorous!  That’s what we peasants go through every day.  We want hope! We want potential! This world of ours was borne from rags to riches stories, and we continued to buy into each and every one of them.  We don’t care about the things that went into all that stardom, we just want the icing…you can keep the cake. 

Here’s an interesting tale: 

This is the story of Stephen King’s early writing career.  If you’ve already read it or heard it, skip down.

On January 2, 1971, King married Tabitha King (born Tabitha Jane Spruce). In the fall of 1971 King took a teaching job at Hampden Academy, earning $6,400 a year. The Kings then moved to Hermon, a town west of Bangor. Stephen then began work on a short story about a teenage girl named Carietta White. After completing a few pages, he decided it was not a worthy story and crumpled the pages up and tossed them into the trash. Fortunately, Tabitha took the pages out and read them. She encouraged her husband to continue the story, which he did. In January 1973 he submitted “Carrie” to Doubleday. In March Doubleday bought the book. On May 12 the publisher sold the paperback rights for the novel to New American Library for $400,000. His contract called for his getting half of that sum, and he quit his teaching job to pursue writing full time. The rest, as they say, is history.

He threw the pages away. 

Let that sink in for a moment. 

That, my friends is a Cinderella story.  What it doesn’t tell you are the months and hours he put in BEFORE he wrote what would become the bestselling novel Carrie. Here’s some perspective. 

I began seriously writing (well, what I called serious writing) in 1997.  Of course, that was the same year I tried quitting an addiction to drugs and alcohol cold turkey.  Doesn’t leave a lot of room for creativity when you’re puking your guts out most of the day.  I sold my first story about ten years ago.  That would make it 2006.  I earned $15. I took myself out to McDonald’s for dinner to celebrate. 

My first real novel was begun in 1998.  I’m still writing it.  There’s an incredibly steep learning curve to writing.  Now with the laughable “self-publishing” industry allowing any Tom, Rick, and Henrietta to publish their book, the market is flooded mostly with totally pure, unadulterated shit. Don’t get me started on self-publishing. 

My so-called ‘magnum opus’ is still being written, but…and this is a huge deal breaker for me…I’m don’t feel, even after all these years, that my craft is worthy of the writing of it. No matter how many awards I win, or how many people tell me I made them cry with a story, I still find myself anxious over not being able to tell the best story in the best way possible.  See, that’s what self-publishing leaves out.  Not EVERY story should be told. Or written. Just as not every person should be a writer.  

Here’s a hypothetical question: would you marry your brother or sister and then have kids by them? No: Why not? 

Because something happens to those genes we should not be mixing together.  They get screwy.  The same thing happens when everybody thinks they can write.  The gene pool gets so diluted, eventually stories will make little sense, and we will no longer care. 

It’s true what they say about storytelling being an art form. No, not ant farm. A first grader’s finger painting, while worthy of a place on our refrigerator door, has no business being in the Louvre. 

My caution to you is: do the work.  Publish traditionally.  Don’t fumble about in the shallow end of the gene pool lest your offspring come out resembling one of Stephen King’s characters.  And NOT in a good way. Some writers deserve the fortune they’ve worked for.  Some don’t. Learn to tell the difference. 

by ALLYSON SOUZA for www.LittleThings.com

We’ve all heard that we shouldn’t do it: inviting your dog into your bed. People believe it’s dirty, and it’s just not good for you. People have been saying it for years.

But, what if we told you that maybe that isn’t entirely true.

There are actual health benefits to letting your four-legged best friend spend the night, and it isn’t just you who’s better for all that cuddle time.

It’s better for your dog, too!

And who doesn’t want to do everything they can to make sure their little one is as happy as possible?

So to all you dog lovers who love snuggling up with their warm, fluffy buddy at the end of the day, keep doing what you’re doing.

#1: They Give You Comfort

#2: They Fight Insomnia

#3: Snuggling With Them Relieves Stress And Anxiety

Chances are, you’ll sleep better at night and we all know that better sleep leads to a better day.

It really is a win-win situation for everyone involved!

#4: They Provide Warmth

#5: They Help Fight Depression

#6: They Make You Feel Safe