Jo Knowles's Blog, page 29
June 13, 2011
Sometimes stepping out of your comfort zone can be, well, comforting
Once a year, the UU church I go to has a wonderful outdoor service at a member's nearby home. During the service, we could hear cows from the farm across the street moo. We could hear the clip-clop of horses as they trotted past with their riders. Birds chirping. Dogs barking. Kids playing. And all around us green, green, green. It was beautiful.
This year, our minister put a call out for people to bring their instruments if they wanted to play. His wife, a dear friend, suggested that E and I bring our guitars. My first reaction was: Hahahahaha. Yeah, right. No. Way. But then I realized that maybe it would be FUN. So E and I practiced one of the songs (our favorite), and decided to be brave. Even that morning, I had doubts. E did too. But as our friend pointed out, everyone will be singing! They won't know if you screw up! Just do it!
So. We did.
You'll just have to trust me that that's us. I still don't like publishing my son's photo in public. :-)
You know, as much as doing that required me to step out of my comfort zone in a big way, playing music with five other people to the sound of I'm not sure how many people singing, is... well... surprisingly comforting.
I think I need to remember that.
Also? We had so much fun we decided to meet up and play music together on a regular basis. Clearly, sometimes stepping out of your comfort zone results in stepping into new friendships.
I think I need to remember that, too.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Monday Morning Warm-Up:
Describe something you've always wanted to try but have been too nervous/afraid to.
This year, our minister put a call out for people to bring their instruments if they wanted to play. His wife, a dear friend, suggested that E and I bring our guitars. My first reaction was: Hahahahaha. Yeah, right. No. Way. But then I realized that maybe it would be FUN. So E and I practiced one of the songs (our favorite), and decided to be brave. Even that morning, I had doubts. E did too. But as our friend pointed out, everyone will be singing! They won't know if you screw up! Just do it!
So. We did.
You'll just have to trust me that that's us. I still don't like publishing my son's photo in public. :-)
You know, as much as doing that required me to step out of my comfort zone in a big way, playing music with five other people to the sound of I'm not sure how many people singing, is... well... surprisingly comforting.
I think I need to remember that.
Also? We had so much fun we decided to meet up and play music together on a regular basis. Clearly, sometimes stepping out of your comfort zone results in stepping into new friendships.
I think I need to remember that, too.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Monday Morning Warm-Up:
Describe something you've always wanted to try but have been too nervous/afraid to.
June 9, 2011
More lessons in "The Year of Being A Writer"
This morning I sent my former students an e-mail. It was a hard one.
I've been teaching Writing for Children in the MFA program at Simmons College for the past four years—first at Simmons in Boston, and then through the Eric Carle Museum. Since I was an undergrad, teaching was my "BIG DREAM". It was one of those things I imagined I would never get a chance to do because I wasn't smart enough. Wasn't brave enough. Wasn't experienced enough. Etc. So when I was asked to apply, I was shocked, thrilled and terrified. But oh. I loved it so much. I loved meeting new students and watching them find their voices. Watching them discover their unique talents. Watching them gain confidence. And most importantly, watching them bond with each other to become lifelong colleagues and friends. Teaching at Simmons changed my life. It was the most rewarding job I've ever had.
But teaching takes time. A lot of time.
Last January, I declared this to be "The Year of Being A Writer."
What I meant by that and what this year has turned out to be a lesson in, are two very different things. I thought "Being A Writer" was going to mean that I wrote my fiction full time. Instead, what it's meant is living the writer's real life: struggling to balance freelance jobs with finding time to work on my own writing and not become a stranger to my family. It's meant making tough choices that feel almost selfish. Learning how to put writing before washing dishes. To put writing before laundry. But understanding that my child still comes first.
The more freelance jobs I've received (which I've been very grateful for), the less time and energy I've had for writing. The thought of adding teaching to the mix again this fall seems impossible. In many ways, I've felt like this "Year of Being A Writer" has been anything but. Except, I guess that's what being a writer is all about. Being a writer is learning how to roll with the insanity. And yet... It's also learning when and how to take control of the reins. And so, since this year is already half-way over, I've decided I needed to slow this crazy horse down. What makes the most sense for my sanity and everyone who lives with me, even though it is the hardest choice, is to stop teaching.
It is a very scary thing, to REALLY put your writing first. I mean, in front of a sure thing as far as a paycheck goes. But this, too, seems what BEING A WRITER is all about. Having a little faith in yourself.
I feel like I have arrived at both the top of a steep hill, and at the bottom of another. I don't know how much harder the rest of the climb will be. But it's time to take a big gulp of water and find out.
Thanks so much to all of my students for making my dream come true. And, as Laurie puts it, attending the "Knowlesian School of Writing." ;-) Teaching really did change my life, you know. You did. I will never forget you.
xoxo
I've been teaching Writing for Children in the MFA program at Simmons College for the past four years—first at Simmons in Boston, and then through the Eric Carle Museum. Since I was an undergrad, teaching was my "BIG DREAM". It was one of those things I imagined I would never get a chance to do because I wasn't smart enough. Wasn't brave enough. Wasn't experienced enough. Etc. So when I was asked to apply, I was shocked, thrilled and terrified. But oh. I loved it so much. I loved meeting new students and watching them find their voices. Watching them discover their unique talents. Watching them gain confidence. And most importantly, watching them bond with each other to become lifelong colleagues and friends. Teaching at Simmons changed my life. It was the most rewarding job I've ever had.
But teaching takes time. A lot of time.
Last January, I declared this to be "The Year of Being A Writer."
What I meant by that and what this year has turned out to be a lesson in, are two very different things. I thought "Being A Writer" was going to mean that I wrote my fiction full time. Instead, what it's meant is living the writer's real life: struggling to balance freelance jobs with finding time to work on my own writing and not become a stranger to my family. It's meant making tough choices that feel almost selfish. Learning how to put writing before washing dishes. To put writing before laundry. But understanding that my child still comes first.
The more freelance jobs I've received (which I've been very grateful for), the less time and energy I've had for writing. The thought of adding teaching to the mix again this fall seems impossible. In many ways, I've felt like this "Year of Being A Writer" has been anything but. Except, I guess that's what being a writer is all about. Being a writer is learning how to roll with the insanity. And yet... It's also learning when and how to take control of the reins. And so, since this year is already half-way over, I've decided I needed to slow this crazy horse down. What makes the most sense for my sanity and everyone who lives with me, even though it is the hardest choice, is to stop teaching.
It is a very scary thing, to REALLY put your writing first. I mean, in front of a sure thing as far as a paycheck goes. But this, too, seems what BEING A WRITER is all about. Having a little faith in yourself.
I feel like I have arrived at both the top of a steep hill, and at the bottom of another. I don't know how much harder the rest of the climb will be. But it's time to take a big gulp of water and find out.
Thanks so much to all of my students for making my dream come true. And, as Laurie puts it, attending the "Knowlesian School of Writing." ;-) Teaching really did change my life, you know. You did. I will never forget you.
xoxo
June 8, 2011
Introducing my very first book trailer! :-)
David Burgis, the very talented brother of the very talented author Stephanie Burgis (
![[info]](https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/hostedimages/1380451598i/2033940.gif)
stephanieburgis
), has created a book trailer for PEARL!
Excerpt from chapter 2:
When we get to the paint-chipped front steps of my house, Henry moves closer to me. I can smell his deodorant and the fabric softener Sally uses because she likes the little teddy bear on the ads. I move closer too, so that our arms touch.
Being close to Henry has always made me feel safe. Ever since I met him at the MiniMart on the corner of our street. I was there to buy my mom some ginger-ale for her hangover and get myself a treat with the change. Henry was buying his mom Soap Digest and some Suzie Q's. We were seven and it was July. Sally said later this was a sign, us being seven and meeting in the seventh month. She said we were meant to be friends forever.
Thanks for putting this together, David!
:-)
stephanieburgis
), has created a book trailer for PEARL!Excerpt from chapter 2:
When we get to the paint-chipped front steps of my house, Henry moves closer to me. I can smell his deodorant and the fabric softener Sally uses because she likes the little teddy bear on the ads. I move closer too, so that our arms touch.
Being close to Henry has always made me feel safe. Ever since I met him at the MiniMart on the corner of our street. I was there to buy my mom some ginger-ale for her hangover and get myself a treat with the change. Henry was buying his mom Soap Digest and some Suzie Q's. We were seven and it was July. Sally said later this was a sign, us being seven and meeting in the seventh month. She said we were meant to be friends forever.
Thanks for putting this together, David!
:-)
June 7, 2011
IRA's 2011 Young Adults' Choices Project
A couple of days ago a librarian sent me a tweet saying JUMPING OFF SWINGS was on The 2011 Young Adults’ Choices List put out by the International Reading Association!
What's really special about this list is that it's compiled by teens. There is a huge variety here—Fantasy, realism, humor, romance, nonfiction, etc. etc. etc. In light of the WSJ ridiculousness, this makes me very happy. It represents the vast array of stories teens are reading (and that yes, are available in most bookstores). It's an honor to see my book among them...
...Oh, lets be honest. It's a THRILL!!!!!!! :-)
Young Adults’ Choices 2011 Reading List
The Big Ideas That Changed the World. Dorling Kindersley.
Candy Bomber: The Story of the Berlin Airlift’s “Chocolate Pilot”. Michael O. Tunnell. Charlesbridge.
City of Glass. Cassandra Clare. Margaret K. McElderry.
Halo. Alexandra Adornetto. Feiwel and Friends.
Happyface. Stephen Emond. Little, Brown.
Hush, Hush. Becca Fitzpatrick. Simon & Schuster.
I Am Number Four. Pittacus Lore. HarperCollins.
If I Stay. Gayle Forman. Speak.
If You Live Like Me. Lori Weber. Lobster.
Incarceron. Catherine Fisher. Firebird.
It Started With a Dare. Lindsay Faith Rech. Graphia.
Jumping Off Swings. Jo Knowles.Candlewick.
Leviathan. Scott Westerfeld. Simon Pulse.
The Lost Hero. Rick Riordan. Hyperion.
Low Red Moon. Ivy Devlin. Bloomsbury.
Matched. Ally Condie. Dutton Juvenile.
Mockingjay. Suzanne Collins. Scholastic.
The Necromancer. Michael Scott.Delacorte.
Out of My Mind. Sharon M. Draper. Atheneum.
The Pale Assassin. Patricia Elliott.Holiday House.
Ruined. Paula Morris. Point.
Rules of Attraction. Simone Elkeles.Walker.
Sea. Heidi R. Kling. Putnam Juvenile.
Shiver. Maggie Stiefvater. Scholastic.
The Sky Is Everywhere. Jandy Nelson.Speak.
Congratulations to everyone on this list, and to everyone who has chosen to write for children and teens!!!
What's really special about this list is that it's compiled by teens. There is a huge variety here—Fantasy, realism, humor, romance, nonfiction, etc. etc. etc. In light of the WSJ ridiculousness, this makes me very happy. It represents the vast array of stories teens are reading (and that yes, are available in most bookstores). It's an honor to see my book among them...
...Oh, lets be honest. It's a THRILL!!!!!!! :-)
Young Adults’ Choices 2011 Reading List
The Big Ideas That Changed the World. Dorling Kindersley.
Candy Bomber: The Story of the Berlin Airlift’s “Chocolate Pilot”. Michael O. Tunnell. Charlesbridge.
City of Glass. Cassandra Clare. Margaret K. McElderry.
Halo. Alexandra Adornetto. Feiwel and Friends.
Happyface. Stephen Emond. Little, Brown.
Hush, Hush. Becca Fitzpatrick. Simon & Schuster.
I Am Number Four. Pittacus Lore. HarperCollins.
If I Stay. Gayle Forman. Speak.
If You Live Like Me. Lori Weber. Lobster.
Incarceron. Catherine Fisher. Firebird.
It Started With a Dare. Lindsay Faith Rech. Graphia.
Jumping Off Swings. Jo Knowles.Candlewick.
Leviathan. Scott Westerfeld. Simon Pulse.
The Lost Hero. Rick Riordan. Hyperion.
Low Red Moon. Ivy Devlin. Bloomsbury.
Matched. Ally Condie. Dutton Juvenile.
Mockingjay. Suzanne Collins. Scholastic.
The Necromancer. Michael Scott.Delacorte.
Out of My Mind. Sharon M. Draper. Atheneum.
The Pale Assassin. Patricia Elliott.Holiday House.
Ruined. Paula Morris. Point.
Rules of Attraction. Simone Elkeles.Walker.
Sea. Heidi R. Kling. Putnam Juvenile.
Shiver. Maggie Stiefvater. Scholastic.
The Sky Is Everywhere. Jandy Nelson.Speak.
Congratulations to everyone on this list, and to everyone who has chosen to write for children and teens!!!
June 6, 2011
Purple paper lanterns
Last night I was driving alone in the car, headed to Montpelier, Vermont to meet some friends for dinner. As I drove along the lonely highway, I noticed a number of sad things. A dead raccoon. A dead coyote. A dead dear. Mounds of fur from animals too far gone to recognize. A purple paper bag hanging from a tree. Deep purple. With a design cut into it. Like a paper bag lantern would have. I think. At 65 mph though, it was hard to get a good look. Was it left there as a memorial for someone else who had died? I'm not sure. But several miles later, I saw another one.
Dinner was lovely. I saw friends I hadn't seen in a long time. We caught up a a bit. We laughed a lot. We shared a little gossip. And then we said good-bye.
Back in the car, on the highway, the sun was setting. As the road grew darker, I listened to Selected Shorts on the radio. They were running "Devil of a Curve," by Walter Kirn, read by Roscoe Lee, and I marveled at the gift of a good story-teller. The story made me think about relationships between mothers and sons and fathers and expectations, and how life is always veering off course no matter how carefully we drive.
As I drove, I looked for more purple paper lanterns. Signs of sorrow, but also signs of love.
Instead I saw another dead coyote.
A dead cat.
And I kept thinking, "This is a devil of a highway."
But at least there weren't any more purple lanterns.
It was a hard drive home.
But it was a thoughtful drive, too.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Monday Morning Warm-Up:
Tell the story of the paper lanterns.
Dinner was lovely. I saw friends I hadn't seen in a long time. We caught up a a bit. We laughed a lot. We shared a little gossip. And then we said good-bye.
Back in the car, on the highway, the sun was setting. As the road grew darker, I listened to Selected Shorts on the radio. They were running "Devil of a Curve," by Walter Kirn, read by Roscoe Lee, and I marveled at the gift of a good story-teller. The story made me think about relationships between mothers and sons and fathers and expectations, and how life is always veering off course no matter how carefully we drive.
As I drove, I looked for more purple paper lanterns. Signs of sorrow, but also signs of love.
Instead I saw another dead coyote.
A dead cat.
And I kept thinking, "This is a devil of a highway."
But at least there weren't any more purple lanterns.
It was a hard drive home.
But it was a thoughtful drive, too.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Monday Morning Warm-Up:
Tell the story of the paper lanterns.
June 2, 2011
Thankful Thursday
I wrote a very cheesy post and then deleted it because it was too embarrassingly cheesy.
But basically, I just wanted to let you all know how thankful I am to know you all.
:-)
xo
But basically, I just wanted to let you all know how thankful I am to know you all.
:-)
xo
June 1, 2011
Saying good-bye to Angus
My brother showed up for Christmas one year with a travel bag that looked like a cooler. He told my dad he brought home some special meat for the holiday. But when my dad opened the bag, a tiny little black nose poked out and licked his face.
It was Angus. A tiny puppy my brother and his partner had rescued back in Colorado and flown him all the way to New Hampshire to give to my dad.
That was more than thirteen years ago. Since then, my family has seen so many changes. A marriage. The births of four grandchildren. The purchases of three houses (my sister's, my parents' and mine). And the loss of our sweet, loving brother. Angus has been here with us for every milestone. He has been a constant companion, comforter, babysitter, and friend.
This is Angus and my son at Beede Falls in Sandwich, NH.
This is a picture of Angus my son drew after spending time with him in Maine one summer. I believe that's supposed to be me, E and Angus.
Here's Angus visiting one winter, keeping all the kids and my mom rounded up on the couch.
Here's an illustration my son made to go with a picture book text I wrote about Angus.
And here's my son taking Angus for an after-Thanksgiving-dinner walk a few years ago at my parents' house.
Today, my parents are in my thoughts as they say good-bye to their dear, dear pup. I know it is especially hard because of the ties to my brother.
Thank you, lovely Angus, for giving us all so much comfort and joy for so many years. We'll miss you.
It was Angus. A tiny puppy my brother and his partner had rescued back in Colorado and flown him all the way to New Hampshire to give to my dad.
That was more than thirteen years ago. Since then, my family has seen so many changes. A marriage. The births of four grandchildren. The purchases of three houses (my sister's, my parents' and mine). And the loss of our sweet, loving brother. Angus has been here with us for every milestone. He has been a constant companion, comforter, babysitter, and friend.
This is Angus and my son at Beede Falls in Sandwich, NH.
This is a picture of Angus my son drew after spending time with him in Maine one summer. I believe that's supposed to be me, E and Angus.
Here's Angus visiting one winter, keeping all the kids and my mom rounded up on the couch.
Here's an illustration my son made to go with a picture book text I wrote about Angus.
And here's my son taking Angus for an after-Thanksgiving-dinner walk a few years ago at my parents' house.
Today, my parents are in my thoughts as they say good-bye to their dear, dear pup. I know it is especially hard because of the ties to my brother.
Thank you, lovely Angus, for giving us all so much comfort and joy for so many years. We'll miss you.
May 30, 2011
Sir Keen Insight
This weekend my son's school held their Medieval Faire.
My son played the king in a short play based on Saint George and the Dragon. The dragon killed him.
Luckily, he was brought back to life.
Later, the graduating students were knighted by the "real" king and queen, with their young prince looking on.
My son was dubbed "Sir Keen Insight". I wish I had written down the kind things they said about him. The ceremony was actually quite touching, as each student's unique and noble qualities were described.
We're going to miss Open Fields School very much. It is a special place. And in many ways, it saved our child. Thank you Karen, Jean, Mary and Mindy for helping our son rediscover his love of learning, for celebrating his differences, and for encouraging him to discover and share his own keen insights.
And thanks Woody, too. For being the best school dog ever.
~*~*~*~*~
Monday Morning Warm-Up:
Today is Memorial Day. Who are you remembering?
My son played the king in a short play based on Saint George and the Dragon. The dragon killed him.
Luckily, he was brought back to life.
Later, the graduating students were knighted by the "real" king and queen, with their young prince looking on.
My son was dubbed "Sir Keen Insight". I wish I had written down the kind things they said about him. The ceremony was actually quite touching, as each student's unique and noble qualities were described.
We're going to miss Open Fields School very much. It is a special place. And in many ways, it saved our child. Thank you Karen, Jean, Mary and Mindy for helping our son rediscover his love of learning, for celebrating his differences, and for encouraging him to discover and share his own keen insights.
And thanks Woody, too. For being the best school dog ever.
~*~*~*~*~
Monday Morning Warm-Up:
Today is Memorial Day. Who are you remembering?
May 27, 2011
Changes
When I started this journal, he was four years old. Most of my entries consisted of stories of worry, amusement (who remembers Mr. Naked wreaking havoc in the dollhouse?), pride, fear, joy, and love for this sweet little beast who occupied my heart.
Today, he is eleven and in just over four hours, he will graduate from elementary school.
As cliché as it is, where did my sweet little duck-talker go?
Well yes. He's still right here. Busy occupying my heart just as much as he did then. I know as we turn this corner there will still be worry, amusement, pride, fear, joy and love for my not-so-little beast. I'm so glad he's here.
Happy graduation, my sweet, sweet E.
:-)
Today, he is eleven and in just over four hours, he will graduate from elementary school.
As cliché as it is, where did my sweet little duck-talker go?
Well yes. He's still right here. Busy occupying my heart just as much as he did then. I know as we turn this corner there will still be worry, amusement, pride, fear, joy and love for my not-so-little beast. I'm so glad he's here.
Happy graduation, my sweet, sweet E.
:-)
May 25, 2011
The Three-Point Shot is Not About the Extra Point
Last night I tuned in to American Idol for one last shot of inspiration from my man Steven "The Muse" Tyler. And once again, I'm very sorry to say, the show started out with something that made me cringe. I know I know. It's probably just me.
Anyway, here's what happened: Ryan came on stage and introduced the final two contestants, Scotty and Lauren. Right away, he said there'd been a rumor going around online that Lauren was having problems with her voice. The camera zoomed in on Lauren and she looked kind of surprised and horrified that Ryan was sharing this fact with the world. But it got worse, and quite frankly, a little creepy, when Ryan asked the doctor to come on stage. So this guy wearing all black (not a suit, just black pants and a black long-sleeve shirt like stage hands wear) came out. As he neared the contestants, Ryan told him to stand a bit away. He said something like, "No, stay right there, stay right there." As if he he didn't want the guy to get too close. Which also seemed weird. Did anyone catch that?
Anyway, this doctor explained that Lauren had completely damaged (did he say shot? I can't remember) one of her vocal chords. Only it was OK! Because he had pumped her full of meds. That's what he said! And Lauren just smiled nervously and said everything would be great.
Friends, I think we have gone too far. I really do.
Maybe this isn't a big deal. Maybe this is how you treat vocal chord injuries. But bringing the doctor in black—who wasn't allowed to approach the contestants but was allowed to pump one of them full of drugs—onto a stage and in front of the camera so he could share this fact with millions of people without any sense of concern for the possible side effects of this practice, including permanent damage to a young teen's vocal chords, felt worse than creepy. It felt very wrong.
And it felt wrong again when Randy had to pipe up with his whole IN IT TO WIN IT campaign as well.
If this is what IN IT IT WIN IT means, I think we have a problem.
But I kept watching.
The contestants each had to sing three songs. These felt very short to me and all six performances, I must admit, felt rushed and karaoke-like. Don't hate me! But they really did. To me. I mean, both singers have lovely voices. But the performances were so unoriginal, especially for a season finale. I kept asking my son, Is it just me? Is it? Everyone looks so tired and bored. Neither performer seemed to be there for the joy of singing and creating music. They looked like they were being very careful not to screw up. Which is understandable, I admit. But neither seemed to put their own little piece of themselves into the songs. Even the songs that were written just for them. I think maybe it was because they were afraid to do that because all the contestants who had were, well, gone.
Is that what IN IT TO WIN IT means now?
I don't know. But I admit I was disappointed. We'd come all this way. And it all felt very anticlimactic. Even the judges looked exhausted. Their commentary felt totally scripted. Steven Tyler looked like he had been forced awake to come to the show.
It was all a bit depressing.
Or.
Maybe it's just how I was seeing things.
Maybe everyone else thought it was fantastic and genuine.
Maybe I am the only one who is tired of it all.
It's this IN IT TO WIN IT stuff, I swear. It has made me very cynical.
Even so, I continued to hang on, waiting for my muse to deliver. And sure enough, Steven finally piped up with a good one. But to be honest, I don't even remember who he said it too. I don't even remember the context. Because as much as I love Steven, even that line felt like something he'd come up with a while ago and he finally found a chance to use it.
"You can't take a three-point shot from under the net," he said. So, I wrote it down and started to ponder.
What, exactly, did he mean by this? Here are some thoughts:
You can't get the extra point if you play it safe.
You have to take a risk if you want the extra point.
You have to go the distance to get the extra point.
Yuck, yuck, and yuck. That is what I thought.
That doesn't sound like Steven at all. I watched the rest of the show, got more depressed about it all, and went to bed.
But this morning I knew I wanted to write a final entry about my muse. I had to find my way through my own stubbornness and negativity to find some inspiration. Isn't that what Steven would do? Isn't that what he's done all season?
Yes.
So I started thinking more about that three-point shot. I'm not a huge basketball fan, but I've seen players take that shot and make it. It's always kind of miraculous, isn't it? You see the player get the ball and make that unmistakable glance up toward the net and make that split-second decision: Do I go for it? Can I do it? And everyone in the stands is screaming "Shoot! Shoot!" And when the player does, everything goes quiet as you all watch the ball soar through the air. Heads move in unison to follow the graceful arc of the ball as it approaches that impossibly small metal circle.
And then... Swoosh.
It's a beautiful sound (to one team, anyway). Because it's always a swoosh. It has to be when the ball travels that distance. Just... Swoosh. And then at least one side of the gym erupts in cheers over the beauty of it all.
Maybe that's what Steven was talking about. That precious moment.
You can't take a three-point shot from under the net.
Taking shots from under the net is all arms flailing and people grabbing at you and elbowing you in the ribs or face or anywhere they can get away with as they jump up for the rebound. It's all jumbled and ugly. But the three-point shot. The three-point shot requires you to slip away in the distance and wait for someone under the net to not only see that you're open, but trust your skills enough to take a chance on getting the ball to you. So you're standing out there. For an all-to-brief moment no one is guarding you and the ball pops into your hands and you have about one more second to set yourself up, aim and shoot with just the right amount of force. It's perfect physics, right? And the only people who make it are the people who have practiced and practiced and practiced thousands of times so that they know what they have to do. They just know. And even then, they don't always make it. But they dare to try. Steven said "Take it." Not "Make it."
Maybe that's it.
Maybe that's what Steven was talking about.
About having the confidence to take a risk. About knowing when to step out from the crazy jumble of reaching arms and jabbing elbows and taking the hard shot. The shot that requires practice and skill and timing and strength. And the courage to try.
I don't know if that's what he meant. But that's how I'm going to interpret it.
I know it took me a long time to get here, so if you read this far, thanks.
Here's what I think: This business CAN feel like a jumble sometimes. It can feel like a mass of arms and pointy elbows. It can feel like you are using all your strength just to stay standing. It can feel like you will never get a chance to hold the ball, much less take a shot.
But on the good days, and even on the bad days, really, I feel like our team is pretty fantastic. So here's my pledge to you. When we're all in a jumble and it feels like we're going to lose, step out. Leave the crazy. Set yourself up. Show us your hands. And we'll pass you the ball. Now remember what you've practiced and practiced and practiced.
What happens next is up to you. Either way, we'll cheer you on. You, and the beauty of it all.
That's what teammates do.
:-)
Anyway, here's what happened: Ryan came on stage and introduced the final two contestants, Scotty and Lauren. Right away, he said there'd been a rumor going around online that Lauren was having problems with her voice. The camera zoomed in on Lauren and she looked kind of surprised and horrified that Ryan was sharing this fact with the world. But it got worse, and quite frankly, a little creepy, when Ryan asked the doctor to come on stage. So this guy wearing all black (not a suit, just black pants and a black long-sleeve shirt like stage hands wear) came out. As he neared the contestants, Ryan told him to stand a bit away. He said something like, "No, stay right there, stay right there." As if he he didn't want the guy to get too close. Which also seemed weird. Did anyone catch that?
Anyway, this doctor explained that Lauren had completely damaged (did he say shot? I can't remember) one of her vocal chords. Only it was OK! Because he had pumped her full of meds. That's what he said! And Lauren just smiled nervously and said everything would be great.
Friends, I think we have gone too far. I really do.
Maybe this isn't a big deal. Maybe this is how you treat vocal chord injuries. But bringing the doctor in black—who wasn't allowed to approach the contestants but was allowed to pump one of them full of drugs—onto a stage and in front of the camera so he could share this fact with millions of people without any sense of concern for the possible side effects of this practice, including permanent damage to a young teen's vocal chords, felt worse than creepy. It felt very wrong.
And it felt wrong again when Randy had to pipe up with his whole IN IT TO WIN IT campaign as well.
If this is what IN IT IT WIN IT means, I think we have a problem.
But I kept watching.
The contestants each had to sing three songs. These felt very short to me and all six performances, I must admit, felt rushed and karaoke-like. Don't hate me! But they really did. To me. I mean, both singers have lovely voices. But the performances were so unoriginal, especially for a season finale. I kept asking my son, Is it just me? Is it? Everyone looks so tired and bored. Neither performer seemed to be there for the joy of singing and creating music. They looked like they were being very careful not to screw up. Which is understandable, I admit. But neither seemed to put their own little piece of themselves into the songs. Even the songs that were written just for them. I think maybe it was because they were afraid to do that because all the contestants who had were, well, gone.
Is that what IN IT TO WIN IT means now?
I don't know. But I admit I was disappointed. We'd come all this way. And it all felt very anticlimactic. Even the judges looked exhausted. Their commentary felt totally scripted. Steven Tyler looked like he had been forced awake to come to the show.
It was all a bit depressing.
Or.
Maybe it's just how I was seeing things.
Maybe everyone else thought it was fantastic and genuine.
Maybe I am the only one who is tired of it all.
It's this IN IT TO WIN IT stuff, I swear. It has made me very cynical.
Even so, I continued to hang on, waiting for my muse to deliver. And sure enough, Steven finally piped up with a good one. But to be honest, I don't even remember who he said it too. I don't even remember the context. Because as much as I love Steven, even that line felt like something he'd come up with a while ago and he finally found a chance to use it.
"You can't take a three-point shot from under the net," he said. So, I wrote it down and started to ponder.
What, exactly, did he mean by this? Here are some thoughts:
You can't get the extra point if you play it safe.
You have to take a risk if you want the extra point.
You have to go the distance to get the extra point.
Yuck, yuck, and yuck. That is what I thought.
That doesn't sound like Steven at all. I watched the rest of the show, got more depressed about it all, and went to bed.
But this morning I knew I wanted to write a final entry about my muse. I had to find my way through my own stubbornness and negativity to find some inspiration. Isn't that what Steven would do? Isn't that what he's done all season?
Yes.
So I started thinking more about that three-point shot. I'm not a huge basketball fan, but I've seen players take that shot and make it. It's always kind of miraculous, isn't it? You see the player get the ball and make that unmistakable glance up toward the net and make that split-second decision: Do I go for it? Can I do it? And everyone in the stands is screaming "Shoot! Shoot!" And when the player does, everything goes quiet as you all watch the ball soar through the air. Heads move in unison to follow the graceful arc of the ball as it approaches that impossibly small metal circle.
And then... Swoosh.
It's a beautiful sound (to one team, anyway). Because it's always a swoosh. It has to be when the ball travels that distance. Just... Swoosh. And then at least one side of the gym erupts in cheers over the beauty of it all.
Maybe that's what Steven was talking about. That precious moment.
You can't take a three-point shot from under the net.
Taking shots from under the net is all arms flailing and people grabbing at you and elbowing you in the ribs or face or anywhere they can get away with as they jump up for the rebound. It's all jumbled and ugly. But the three-point shot. The three-point shot requires you to slip away in the distance and wait for someone under the net to not only see that you're open, but trust your skills enough to take a chance on getting the ball to you. So you're standing out there. For an all-to-brief moment no one is guarding you and the ball pops into your hands and you have about one more second to set yourself up, aim and shoot with just the right amount of force. It's perfect physics, right? And the only people who make it are the people who have practiced and practiced and practiced thousands of times so that they know what they have to do. They just know. And even then, they don't always make it. But they dare to try. Steven said "Take it." Not "Make it."
Maybe that's it.
Maybe that's what Steven was talking about.
About having the confidence to take a risk. About knowing when to step out from the crazy jumble of reaching arms and jabbing elbows and taking the hard shot. The shot that requires practice and skill and timing and strength. And the courage to try.
I don't know if that's what he meant. But that's how I'm going to interpret it.
I know it took me a long time to get here, so if you read this far, thanks.
Here's what I think: This business CAN feel like a jumble sometimes. It can feel like a mass of arms and pointy elbows. It can feel like you are using all your strength just to stay standing. It can feel like you will never get a chance to hold the ball, much less take a shot.
But on the good days, and even on the bad days, really, I feel like our team is pretty fantastic. So here's my pledge to you. When we're all in a jumble and it feels like we're going to lose, step out. Leave the crazy. Set yourself up. Show us your hands. And we'll pass you the ball. Now remember what you've practiced and practiced and practiced.
What happens next is up to you. Either way, we'll cheer you on. You, and the beauty of it all.
That's what teammates do.
:-)
