You'll Find My Pencil Up Your Ass

Two chapters into the Twyla Tharp book, The Creative Habit: Learn It And Use It For Life, and my head spins.

1. Rituals and routines – I need one. After contemplating simple things I could to do to switch from domestic life to creative life, I have come up with closing the door to my bedroom and reading a book about writing, grammar, etc. for at least fifteen minutes.

2. Despite my best hope, she does make mention of “sacrifice.” She ties it nicely into rituals of yore, when lambs were slaughtered, bleed in the right way and stacked on fires to appease the gods. Rituals are a way to gain control or feel as if control could be gained.

One of the things I find so frustrating about these books is most come from the point of view that we fledglings have nothing to do with the rest of our lives but create. Sure, if I had editors, deadlines, agents and incoming checks, I could afford to sacrifice. However, I have a son to feed, a husband to love, family that needs me and friends that love me. Believe it or not, that does take a huge chunk of my day. I don’t watch a lot of television, watch a lot of movies or even listen to all that much music. If I had wasteful parts of my day I could heave onto the deity bonfire, I would happily and willingly.

Instead, I’m stuck finding what little fat I can cut from this lean life. Some flavor will end up on the flames, though it’s not as fucking easy as she makes it sound.

3. Her creative exercises at the end of chapter two are not “exercises.” I mean, “Where’s My Pencil?” I don’t even understand what she wants me to do other than think of the thing that made me want to become a writer. I have things in my head. If I don’t leech them out somewhere, my head will explode. As anyone with experience will tell you, getting gray matter out of carpet and upholstery isn’t as easy as one would think.

Why do these things piss me off? I pick up book after book, searching for guidance and ideas, only to end up wanting to rusty-sporking something into an infectious death. I know these writers are trying to help, so why does it piss me off?

I'm Sorry, You Fucking Tit

Google “How To Apologize.” Go on. I dare you.

The first link that comes up pretty much covers it. When and How to Apologize sums up the simple steps of how to apologize. Shall we review? I think everyone needs a refresher.

1. Take responsibility. You screwed up. Own it. It’s no big deal. We’ve all screwed up at some point and time. Nine times out of ten, the person you’re apologizing to will understand. As G.K. Chesterton said, “A stiff apology is a second insult. The injured party does not want to be compensated because he has been wronged; he wants to be healed because he has been hurt.”

And hey, if someone’s apologizing to you, grow a spine and apologize back. It takes two to tango, and you probably fucked up along the way as well. Own it. It’s no big deal. Let the healing begin, fuckhead.

2. Explain. Don’t excuse – because there isn’t a good one for hurting anyone. Adding on stipulations and modifiers to your apology only shrinks it down into one big rationalization for you. Stand on your own two fit and say, “I’m sorry. I don’t have any excuse for doing what I did.”

“Never ruin an apology with an excuse.” Kimberly Johnson is right.

3. Show regret. Yeah, you screwed up. Feeling bad about it is natural. The fact that you regret will make the apology go down easier. It’s not weakness to admit you’re human. It’s weakness pretending your not. And it’s unforgiving to act like you’re better than (even if you are).

“True remorse is never just a regret over consequence; it is a regret over motive,” wrote Mignon McLaughlin in The Neurotic's Notebook, 1960.

4. Repair the screw up. Restitution makes things better. Saying your sorry is one thing, being sorry is another. Offering to repair damage shows that you are, indeed, sorry.

5. Timing. “Oh, I’m so sorry I called you a fucking cunt whore bitch” four weeks later is probably too late. Sometimes, the worse the screw up, the more time and tact needs to be involved.

6. Don’t keep count. Like the webpage said, “It's not about who ‘won’ or who ‘lost.’ It's about keeping a strong friendship.” If you’re keeping count, then maybe you need to pack a lunch in your Carebear lunchbox and head back to grade school, you fucking baby.

Stephen Covey said, “It takes a great deal of character strength to apologize quickly out of one's heart rather than out of pity. A person must possess himself and have a deep sense of security in fundamental principles and values in order to genuinely apologize.”

Sure, it’s easy to ride the wave of “I’m better than you because I’m apologizing first.” Righteous anger is such a dangerous drug, easily addictive and sweet to the taste. Fools fall under its spell and forget the importance of friendship, kindness and courtesy towards others. Apologies should never be about you, it should be about the other person.

I like Emily Kimbrough’s words: Remember, we all stumble, every one of us. That's why it's a comfort to go hand in hand.

We’re all in this together. Why do people insist on screwing with their teammates?