HEY T'es Capab' (February)
February, the month to START getting shit done, is brought to us by UNE CLAQUE SUR LA GUEULE (« S'A 'UEULE ») [pronounced sua yeule]
In January, you:
Chose an essay topic for the Dalton Camp Award. (It's due on March 22March 20. You are definitely going to win that $10,000 prize.)
DevouredSkimmed the five books for Q1: The Bigger Picture (bought it), Personal Branding for Entrepreneurial Journalists, Telling True Stories, Literary Journalism, and On Writing Well.
Flossed (once).
You did not: write a will, find a physiotherapist or an eight-foot-long ski, or buy a suit. You didn't write 15 minutes every morning. You did, however, write 15 minutes on nine mornings of January's 31. Good job (t'es capab'). And you didn't drink—sauf un petit coup de rouge à la fête de ta filleule—so sober January was liiiiiiit.
You definitely wrote more. You went to the libraries a lot. You taught those eight classes—only 13 left to go! You went cross-country skiing twice. You made shit-ton of pierogies.
I know I started this one in the second person but we all get it. T'es capab', Joe.
SO: In February: I plan to:
write more,
read far more: Intimate Journalism, Stop-Time by Frank Conroy, "The Case for Reparations" by TNC, The Age of Wonder by Richard Holmes, Democracy and the News by Herbert J. Gans, etc. etc.
teach seven classes, and learn while doing so:
fiddle with data visualization for Narrative Writing class,
organize my pitches, contest submissions, and connections for Journalism 4 class,
keep working on project management, (thank you for the tips, Rowena!)
take a French writing course,
do those things I should have done in January (see above),
have a beer with Benji (it's sober February but hey),
read a lot,
and do some kind of 29-day challenge (probably write every morning).
Ah images... one is worth one thousand words.
Is that true?
&~&~&
Now to write my February newsletter! I feel so good about this! Why don't I do this every newsletter: early in the month? Why does it always get put off, by a day or by five months?
Because there's always a reason.
For instance, on Feb. 1, I had a headache in the bottom of my brain that felt like a thick pile of pulsing embers. I'd just returned home from an early skate as an observer of the annual Winterlude Triathlon, which began on Dows Lake.
I slept about three hours on Thursday night (Jan. 30) because I was finishing a piece and I wanted desperately to attend Creative Mornings on Friday morning (Jan. 31). Thursday during the day, I had raced to Algonquin campus for a phone interview (9 a.m.) for a blog post (due Feb. 6) and a pep talk with a struggling student (9:30) before my four-hour Journalism 4 class (10 to 2). After that, I Lyfted my ass from one campus to the next to cover a lecture (2:30) in the new Carleton Health Sciences building: a long-winded, much-attributed, and highly-statistical examination of the substance use and mental health services systems in Canada. (They are "systems" and not "a system" because—as the lecturer Dr. Kimberly Corace explained—they don't work well together.) And around 8 p.m. that Thursday night, I realized I didn't really feel like writing that piece... Until I realized I had to if I wanted to spend my morning listening to Ian Campeau talk at CM.
Most everything about January the 31st was telling me to give it up and go back to bed: three hours of sleep, my coffee machine wouldn't pour, and I missed my bus. I stubbornly went for it instead—expecting nothing but pain. I met five cool people and possibly found a good story idea in the talk. Can you find it?
&~&~&
And now for something completely different! (R.I.P. Monty Python's Terry Jones, from whom I constantly steal this line.)
Hed: Emulation
Dek1: How to Learn
Placeline: Saint-Jean-de-Matha, Qué.
Date: Jan. 24, 2020
Copy:
One of my newsletter heroes has successfully created a brand (I got one of those :), written three books (impressive!), and gathered a sizeable following (ne care pas) from his writing. He calls himself a "writer who draws," which is a phrase he stole from Shel Silverstein. Austin Kleon believes quite strongly in sharing what he learns, stealing ideas, and proper attribution, y'see? This is his whole schtick. (His first book is the square little tome called Stealing Like An Artist. Perhaps you've seen it.)
It's much more nuanced than that, of course. But super concise—you can read his books in an afternoon. I recommend his weekly newsletter which lists 10 things he noted that week—always chockfull of helpful stuff.
As I improve my newsletter writing (by simply writing it) and teach narrative writing and freelance writing to j-school students (by reading a lot about it, writing what I think about it, and repeating it out loud), I realize that I have learned stolen a lot from Austin Kleon. Keeping a daily logbook? Observing my own process to find out how I work best? Reading as much as I can, and jettisoning any book I can't seem to get into? Taking on strange challenges, writing more, and telling good stories? Mr. Kleon put me on to that, always pointing me in endless fascination/direction of those who came up with the ideas in the first place.
And, I mean, his third book is called Keep Going. Sound familiar?
I think I should read more.
Conclusion: So I can write more.
Epilogue: February should be a big drum full of incredible meals with friends, snow, and tedious editing of shitty first drafts—both mine and those of my 21 students in J4.
My friend David—good at every sport he tries, a great photographer, a solid (I'm guessing) instructor, and famous for his super tiny cranes—wrote me to say he enjoyed my January newsletter. Always nice to hear! But not why I write these newsletters.
My friend Gab—a great videographer, good at every project he takes on, a solid (I'm certain) teacher, and not famous—asked me over coffee whether he should (and how he should) create his own newsletter. This is indirectly why I write my newsletter: to get other people to write, think, and try things. Whatever those things might be. "But isn't it egocentric to share what you're doing?" asked Gab. (I think about this every time I hit publish because the real reason I write this newsletter is for me—I want to read it.) Yes, sometimes writing and sharing is ego-driven. But it doesn't have to be.
For knowledge and experience, there's hoarding, then there's contributing, and then there's spamming. (I stole this from Austin Kleon, btw.) So just try to do the one in the middle. Perhaps I'll explore this in my Dalton Camp Award-winning piece so I can make it as helpful to others as it will helpful to me, as it funds my wedding.
Merci Gab. Now send me a newsletter.
When I asked David if January really had been "the month to get shit done," he said: "Ehhh, I’m not getting too much done. I think I’m lacking your spirit for life in many ways lol. It’s inspiring anyway!" Thanks David. But you don't seem to be lacking anything. Except the next issue of One-Punch Man. (It's so good.)
No one reading this is lacking anything. February can be tough, so try not to be hard on yourselves.
T'es capab', y'all.
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