Here is a short, true story:
I am four years old and just finished washing myself in the bathtub like a big boy. I watch the whirlpool at the drain and, when it’s all gone, I step out of the tub dripping wet and towel myself dry. Mom has left clean jockey shorts for me. I hold them open and step in, first one leg, then the other, just like I was taught.
But the second leg gets stuck and I see both legs are in the same hole. The opening is only big enough for one leg but I think I can still do this. I pull harder, determined to show I can do this myself. I don’t need help.
As I heave with all my strength, pulling those jockey shorts where no jockey shorts have gone before, I lose my balance and tip over, falling to the floor, hitting my elbow on the toilet and my shoulder on the sink’s leg.
As I lay there howling and crying, my mother wrenches the jockey shorts free from my legs. “They’re ruined,” she says, “but you’re going to have to wear them.”
That’s how I started the Moth StorySLAM two weeks ago. The theme was Clumsy, and I told two more (even clumsier) stories in my time on stage. It was a hoot and a half to get to tell them.
The funny thing for me is that the jockey-shorts story has stuck with my for 54 years. It was a flashbulb moment combining pain with embarrassment and shame. I’ve carried it for a long time.
I didn’t win at the Moth, but it felt good to share the story. It felt all the better because there were 20 names in the hat—something about the topic of “clumsy” brought in the stories—and they pulled mine out first.
Lesson Learned?
I can’t say that I learned a lesson that day. I’ve done the equivalent of that jockey shorts move dozens of times since then, maybe a hundred. No, not specific to underwear. That part I’ve got figured out.
I mean that I bring a certain cocksure arrogance to projects of all kinds and I try to force things where they don’t belong. I watch myself fail with spite, then get angry at myself.
I feel I’m in such a moment now as I have started three new newsletters in addition to this one, plus resurrected yet another that I’d abandoned two years ago. That’s a lot of newsletters and I handled them just fine the past couple of months.
Two weeks ago, I began the revisions of the novel. That went fine but it took all the time I had and, last week, I had three newsletter deadlines that I failed to meet. The deadlines are self-imposed, but still. It’s like the underwear: you don’t have to wear jockeys; I choose that. And when I stuck both legs in the same hole, I could have taken a pause. Instead, I had to crash to the ground in pain to get myself to concede.
Okay, so it’s not as bad as that, but part of me still thinks like a dumb little kid trying to act all grownup but too stubborn for my own good.
Seriously, though: the new novel is going to be fun.
Maybe You’d Like
This week, I’m joining in A Celebration of Thrillers so check out the book covers and maybe you’ll see something you like!
https://storyoriginapp.com/to/Lf954Hk.
Recommended Reading
Last week, I finished reading a novel called A Voyage Along the Horizon. I have feelings about this one and I’m not terribly proud of those feelings. It was kind of triggering for me in that I kind of hated the novel, yet it was critically acclaimed.
I go into more detail in one of my other newsletters, The Story Story, if you want to check it out.
The short version is this: Did you ever see a movie that everybody is raving about, but you kind of hated it? That’s what my review is all about.
Next Picayune
I’ll get past this newsletter crunch and finish the revisions of the novel by the time the next Picayune arrives, so look for a more upbeat Mickey to tell you all about it!
Until then, thanks for reading the Mickey Picayune!
All the best,
Mickey