Matthew Dicks's Blog, page 179

Makemake

Clara, age 10, is spending the first hour of her morning - beginning around 6:00 AM - researching the celestial bodies that were named after Hawaiian Gods after finding a dwarf planet named Makemake in a book on astronomy and strongly suspecting that the name has Hawaiian origins.

Clara’s been into Hawaiian history - particularly Hawaiian history during World War 2 - for quite a while. There are books on Hawaiian history EVERYWHERE in my house.

It also explains her hula dancer Halloween costume.

It turns out that Clara was wrong. Makemake is actually a god worshiped by the people of Easter Island, which is almost 5,000 miles south of Hawaii.

Nice try, Clara, but not even close.

All of this would be fine except that it’s 6:00 in the morning, I’m trying to finish a column for Slate, and she’s sitting next to me, asking question like, “What does virility mean?"

It’s a wonder I get anything done.

Sometimes the old-school methods are still best.

Dolly Parton is very wrong.

I’m listening to Dolly Parton’s America, a podcast by Jad Abumrad, the creator of Radiolab. Jad’s father, a physician, became friends with Dolly Parton after treating her, and this afforded Jad unusual access to the star. I had no intention of listening to the podcast when it was introduced, but loving the work of Abumrad, I thought I’d give the first ten minutes a listen, and I immediately became hooked.

Dolly Parton is a fascinating person and more influential and popular than I could’ve ever imagine. I’ve also started to fall in love with her music over the course of the podcast.

The most recent episode focused on Parton’s unwillingness to take a stand politically. Though she writes and performs songs about social justice, women’s rights, and racism, she has thus far refused to speak out against Trump despite the constant questioning by the media.

While onstage at the Emmy’s in 2017 with her 9 to 5 costars Jane Fonda and Lili Tomlin, Parton refused to criticize Trump even though Fonda and Tomlin did so, cracking jokes in an attempt to change the subject and avoid taking a political stands.

Parton talked about this unwillingness to take a political stand on the podcast, saying that she has fans on both sides of the aisle and wants to entertain everyone.

She said, “No matter what you say is wrong.”

Dolly Parton, of course, is wrong.

These are not normal times in America. The President of the United States is a bigot. He separates migrant families on the border and cages small children. He brags about committing sexual assault. He conspired with foreign powers to undermine American elections. He is ignoring the rapidly escalating crisis of climate change. He operated a fraudulent university that stole millions of dollars from hard working Americans and was forced to settle the case for millions more. He stole from his own charity, was forced to pay a fine, and is now banned from ever operating a charity again. He illegally used campaign funds to pay porn stars to remain silent about extramarital affairs. He is enriching himself and his family from US coffers constantly, from overcharging the Secret Service for food and transport at his resorts to diverting the flight paths of US military planes to keep the airport geographically closest to his Irish resort in business. He insults war heroes and attacks Gold Star families. He threatens to imprison his political opponents. He praises dictators. He divulges state secrets to Russian operatives in the Oval Office. He lies multiple times a day.

This is not a normal Presidency. Saying that Donald Trump is a bigot, a liar, a self-described sex offender, and a traitor who has colluded with foreign powers for political gain is not wrong. This is a man who claims that windmills cause cancer and continually asserts that tariffs are paid directly into the US Treasury. He alters meteorological maps with Sharpies (a federal crime) rather than admitting a mistake.

These are not normal times. In times like these, patriots speak up. Decent human beings stand against this insanity. Folks with a platform put that platform to good use.

“No matter what you say is wrong,” is nonsense. Not saying anything is wrong. Standing by silently is wrong. Refusing to speak up so that you can sell more records and fill more seats is wrong.

Last night Elysha and I were guests at Lisa Lampenelli’s storytelling and comedy show “Losin’ It.” This is not a political show at all, but Lisa still found a way to make her feelings on Trump clear a few times during the course of the evening.

She wasn’t afraid to offend.

And during the Q&A at the end of the show, a man asked a question. When Lisa asked, “Do I know you?” he said, “I don’t think so. Trump 2020!“ at which point several people in the audience erupted into cheers.

Trump supporters were in the audience. A bunch of them. Lisa didn’t care. She followed up the audience member’s political statement with another joke about Trump.

Did she lose a future audience member in the process? Maybe, but I think not. She answered the man’s initial question, referenced him later with a smile, and expressed an acceptance of his presence in the audience, if not his political position.

She took a stand. She made her position clear. He pointed out the insanity of our times. She acted like a patriot.

These are not normal times. Someday Americans will look back on time in America and ask what the hell their fellow Americans were thinking. Historians will ask how the American public allowed this to happen. Some of us will have a record of resistance. Through our words, our writing, our participation in protests and marches, our support for organizations like the ACLU, and more, we will be on the right side of history.

Others, like the Republican members of Congress, the pundits on Fox News, and that audience member last night, will not.

Dolly Parton, too. She will land on the wrong side of history. You can’t stand silently in the middle and claim to be on the right side of history. You either pick a side or you support the status quo.

Silence allows the villainy to continue.

I still think Dolly Parton is a fascinating person, and I’m still falling in love with her music. But do I like Dolly Parton?

Certainly not as much as I did a week ago, and perhaps not so much anymore. I understand the desire to sell tickets and make your fans happy, but not at the expense of our country, our climate, our functioning democracy, or basic human decency.

Worst moment ever for an author

Elysha and I stepped into a bookstore a couple years ago, looking to spend a little time browsing before heading home. As we entered, I noticed an author standing in the cafe to the right, speaking to a small audience of readers. He stopped speaking for a moment as I passed through the doorway, and for the briefest of seconds, we made eye contact.

Then he turned and resumed his talk, and I turned left to begin browsing.

A minute later, I couldn’t help but become curious about the subject of the author’s talk. He had written a book on the writing of memoir - sort of a how-to for the fledgling memoirist. Being someone who makes a living sharing his life onstage, and also being in the midst of writing a memoir myself, I was interested in what this author had to say.

Then it became apparent to me that what he had to say was also what I have to say. This author was describing the strategies that I teach in workshops and write about in Storyworthy, including Homework for Life, in great detail.

Really, really great detail.

A second later, Elysha was standing beside me. “Can you believe this?” she whispered. “He’s stealing all of your stuff!”

“Kind of,” I thought. “It’s absolutely my content, but he’s butchering the hell out of it.”

Still, I couldn’t believe it. It was like listening to a less articulate, less impassioned, less effective version of myself, trying to teach storytelling in the way I’ve been doing for years. It was my strategies for sure, but they were coming out all wrong.

I felt the sudden urge to shout out and correct him.

As he continued to speak, I made my way over to the display of his books to see if he had also included my content in his own book.

As I began flipping through the pages, the author spotted me again. He stopped speak, started again, and then stopped and said, “This is kind of crazy, folks, but Matthew Dicks is actually here right now. The creator of Homework for Life and the author of a great book on storytelling is in the house.”

He pointed, and heads turned. I waved.

The author continued. “Much of what I’ve learned about storytelling has come from Matthew. I can’t believe he’s here right now.”

No kidding.

I pushed away the compliment, wished the author luck, and retreated to the stacks to further examine his book. To my relief, it was absent of my content. While his book was about the writing of memoir, his talk did not match the material in his book at all.

He might be stealing my content in his talk, but he had at least left it out of his book.

Then again, I’ve trademarked Homework for Life, so if he had stolen my content and published it, I could’ve sued for trademark infringement.

That would’ve been fun!

Elysha and I often wonder what that author must’ve been thinking that day. In the midst of a talk on storytelling - one that presents many of my strategies as his own - I suddenly walk into the store.

What was he thinking?

“Oh my God. Someone told Matthew Dicks that I’m stealing his content, and now he’s here to bust me.”

“That’s Matthew Dicks. How is this possible? Matthew Dicks just walked into the store. What the hell am I going to do?”

“Am I the unluckiest person on the planet right now, or is this just karma biting me in the ass?”

It must’ve been quite the moment for him as the bell above the door tinkled and I walked in.

Many people - professors, teachers, social workers, psychologists, storytelling and speaking coaches, and clergy members - have written to me, asking if they can use Storyworthy and my methods when teaching their classes and working with their clients. My response is always, “Yes, by all means. Please do.” These folks always offer to credit me, and they often purchase my book for their classes and clients as well. Storyworthy is currently being used at least a dozen universities that I know about around the world as their primary text on public speaking and storytelling, and I couldn’t be more honored.

Use my content. Please. Just don’t steal it. Don’t pass it off as your own. And for God’s sake, don’t butcher it.

It’s also come to my attention that at least one teacher of storytelling is using some of my content when teaching workshops, but like this author, this person is also passing off my methods as their own. More importantly, this person is also doing a terrible job at presenting it.

“Your stuff for sure,” in the words of one of this person’s former students. “But not entertaining and not compelling and not engaging. Just not the same.”

That’s the thing:

You can steal someone’s methods and strategies, but it’s more than just the content. Unless you can teach or write about these methods and strategies in an entertaining, engaging, and authentic way, you’re going to sound like a cardboard version of me. Unless you live and breathe this methodology - utilizing it everyday to great success - you’re just a fraud, and probably an uninteresting one at that.

They say that imitation is one of the best forms of flattery, and I agree. The problem is that imitation is hard. Maybe impossible.

And if uncredited, it’s also a lousy thing to do.

Things I do #14: I constantly assume it's nuclear war

When my cell service momentarily disappears in an area where service is reliable, I stare at my phone and the absence of those four tiny bars and think, “Oh no. They’ve finally done it. Someone launched the missiles.”

And then, for a fraction of a second, I really do believe that nuclear war has begun.

A second later, the bars on my phone return - service is restored - and I’m thrust back into a world that is still, blessedly, armageddon free.

It’s terrifying. Every time. Truly.

Stranding small children on desert islands

My very good friend, a fellow educator, sent me this quote yesterday, saying that when he read it, he thought of me and my teaching style:

If you want to build a ship, don’t drum up people to collect wood,

and don’t assign them tasks and work.

But rather teach them to long for the endless immensity of the sea.

- Antoine De Saint-Exupery

It was an incredible thoughtful and humbling gesture, and there is certainly is true that this quote closely matches my my belief system, but because I’m me, I decided to re-write the quote a bit to more closely reflect my educational philosophy:

If you want to build a ship, don’t drum up people to collect wood,

and don’t assign them tasks and work.

But rather strand them on a desert island with limited resources and wish them luck.

People are far more capable than we think.

- Matthew Dicks

The thing about my version of the quote is that it allows me to exert far less time and energy. It’s essentially education through delegation and desperation, and while I would never think of stranding my ten year-old students on a desert island, I am not opposed to assigning them incredibly challenging tasks with strict timelines and then attempting to offer them as little support as possible.

You’d be surprised when kids can do when given the opportunity and impetus.

Children are far more capable than we - and more importantly - they think.

Speak Up Storytelling #72: Chris Gaffney

On episode #72 of the Speak Up Storytelling podcast, Matthew and Elysha Dicks talk storytelling alongside the first Great Hartford Storyslam winner, Chris Gaffney!

In our follow up segment, we discuss (and decide upon) the name for the start-and-stop episode that was so popular with our listeners. 

In our Homework for Life segment, we talk about how a story can hinge on the way a conversation can suddenly change the way you see the world. 

Next we listen to the winning story from the very first Great Hartford Storyslam, told by Chris Gaffney.

Amongst the many things we discuss include:

Balancing tone in a story with a combination of humor, tension, suspense, and more. 

Effective choices for the opening a story

The effective advancing of space and time for both time and verisimilitude in a story

Preserving surprise by allowing the audience to experience the events of a story in a way that is similar to how the storyteller experienced them

The value (and possible danger) of subtlety in storytelling 

Then we answer a listener questions about evoking emotion from an audience and make some recommendations. 

RECOMMEDATIONS

Elysha:

What Your Child Would Tell You About ADHD If They Had the Words

Matt:

The 22 Rules of Storytelling According to Pixar

Chris:

Newspapers

LINKS

Uncommon Discourse: http://uncommondiscourse.com

Purchase Storyworthy: Engage, Teach, Persuade, and Change Your Life Through the Power of Storytelling

Purchase Twenty-one Truths About Love 

Homework for Life: https://bit.ly/2f9ZPne

Matthew Dicks's website: http://www.matthewdicks.com

Matthew Dicks's YouTube channel:
https://www.youtube.com/matthewjohndicks 

Matthew Dicks's blog:
http://www.matthewdicks.com/matthewdicksblog

Subscribe to Matthew Dicks's weekly newsletter: 
http://www.matthewdicks.com/matthewdicks-subscribe

Subscribe to the Speak Up newsletter: 
http://www.matthewdicks.com/subscribe-speak-up

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"Skip Politics" is nonsense.

Seth Meyers - a comic and late night talk show host who I adore - released a comedy special on Netflix this week called “Lobby Baby.”

It was very good. Not great, but perhaps that’s because I had heard chunks of the special before as parts of monologues on his show, but I still enjoyed it immensely.

But there was a moment that did not sit well with me.

About halfway through the show, Meyers indicated that he was about to spend some time talking about politics.

“I know there are people who don’t like jokes about politics,” he says. “And because this is on Netflix, it presents us with the unique opportunity. We’re going to have an option for people watching at home to skip politics.”

Meyers then points to the left, and a box appears that reads “Skip Politics.” He gives viewers a chance to click, and then he says, “I appreciate that there are people who think there are too many jokes about Donald Trump, and they say, ‘When are the jokes about Donald Trump going to stop?’ The only thing I’ll say is that the jokes are the only good thing about living through the Donald Trump era.”

I don’t like this one bit.

First, this sounds to me like pandering to Donald Trump supporters.

These are Americans who support a racist, corrupt, traitorous President who puts migrant children in cages and brags about committing sexual assault. These are people who love to refer to people like Seth Meyers as snowflakes. Yet when it comes to exposing them to content that they might not like, they must be offered a “Skip Politics” option?

The most easily triggered folks in America, who constantly besmirch the mental fortitude of people unlike themselves, now need a “Skip Politics” button lest Seth Myers offend their fragile sensibilities?

Give me a break.

Also, if you’re watching a Seth Meyers comedy special, you should know what you’re getting. Meyers has become famous and beloved for his willingness to take on the President night after night on his talk show. If you’re a thin-skinned Trump supporter and you think that Seth Meyers isn’t going to talk about politics in his comedy special, you’re crazy. In fact, both Stephen Colbert and Seth Meyers are now the leaders in their late night time slots respectively, crushing the likes of Jimmy Fallon, because of their willingness to take on the President.

Of course Seth Meyers is going to make fun of Donald Trump. Don’t watch it if you can’t handle it.

But here’s what I hate most about this “Skip Politics” button:

Meyers is not being himself. He’s stripping away his authenticity in favor of placating viewers. I hate this so much. I love Seth Meyers because he is funny and honest and humble. I love the diversity of his writing staff and his willingness to feature them on his show. I love that he is a patriot who refuses to play to the middle.

Except “Skip Politics” is playing to the middle.

Comedy is not supposed to be about catering to the feelings of your audience. It’s not supposed to be presented buffet-style. Comedy is supposed to make you laugh and challenge your beliefs and sometimes punch you in the face. It’s supposed to be performed by someone who is willing to say the real, raw, uncomfortably honest things on their mind.

“Skip Politics” does none of this.

My suspicion is that Netflix asked Meyers to consider this option. Hoping to garner more viewers and keep the low-information Trump voters happy about the platform, they asked Meyers to placate them with “Skip Politics.”

And Meyers agreed.

It doesn’t make me any less disappointed in him.

Whether “Skip Politics” was his choice or a request from the network, it should never have happened. It’s an affront to everything that comedy is supposed to represent, and it strips away the honesty and authenticity of a man who is honest and authentic every night for millions of viewers.

Why should his comedy special be any different?

It shouldn’t.

"I don't mean to insult you, but..."

I was speaking to an auditorium filled with high school students about storytelling. After completing my remarks, I asked for questions. A young man in the front row raised his hand. When I motioned in his direction, he stood and said, “I don’t mean this as an insult…”

I stopped him right there. “I want to hear the rest of your question,” I said. “But consider this a little life lesson. Statements that begin with ‘I don’t mean this as an insult’ are almost always insulting and better unsaid. But fear not. I am impossible to offend, so go right ahead.”

So he did. “So I still don’t mean this as an insult, but your life has been awful. Like really, really hard. How did you manage to survive all that stuff and stay positive and become who you are today?”

Not only had the young man heard some of my stories over the course of the previous hour, but he and his class had studied me online. Watched many videos on my YouTube channel. Read Storyworthy. Even subscribed to my blog. He didn’t know me well, but he knew about some of the struggles of my past. Arrested and tried for a crime I didn’t commit. Homeless. Kicked out of my childhood home at 18. Died twice. Victim of a violent armed robbery. Shared a room with a goat. Worked 50 hours a week while attending college full time. Slandered on a public scale by an anonymous coward in an effort to destroy my career. A lifetime of PTSD. Left handed.

All that messy stuff that has been my life.

When he finished his question, I laughed. “I was wrong,” I said. “That wasn’t insulting at all.”

There were many things I could’ve said to that young man. I could’ve spoken about my desire to do great and interesting things. I might’ve mentioned an ongoing, overwhelming existential crisis that has made me relentless. I could’ve talked about how the struggles of my past have afforded me enormous perspective today, so I’m able to shrug off problems that paralyze others. I could’ve talked about the structure and strategies for productivity and efficiency upon which I have constructed my life. I could’ve discussed how living well is the best revenge - a fact I think about every day when I step into my classroom.

Instead, I said this:

“I never forget how lucky I have been.”

The auditorium erupted in laughter, and I understood why. At that moment, I seemed anything but lucky.

I pressed on. “No, I’m serious. I’m an exceptionally fortunate person. Think about it. I’m a white, straight man living in the United States. Do you have any idea how many advantages those simple things have afforded me? If I was black or gay or a woman, my road would’ve been a hell of a lot harder. If I was born in Mexico or Afghanistan or Ethiopia or Syria, this life that I enjoy today might’ve been impossible.”

I paused to allow this to settle, then I continued. “In addition, I’m healthy - both in mind and body - and reasonable intelligent. I grew up in Massachusetts, which is near the top of the country in public education. I’ve deliberately avoided illegal drugs for my entire life, but I could’ve become addicted to alcohol, but I didn’t. And my heart stopped beating and I stopped breathing twice in my life, and both times, trained medical personnel saved my life with CPR. How lucky is that?”

More laughter. But also nods from the black kids in the audience. The girls, too. Also the female teachers.

I finished with this:

“I’m not saying that your road will be easy, but if you’re a white, straight, American man, you have the easiest road of anyone anywhere. I hear this nonsense about reverse racism. I hear young, white men complaining that they are the victims of a system designed against them. These are stupid people. Try being black or Hispanic for a day. Try being openly gay. Try being a woman. Try being physically disabled or struggling with a mental illness. White, straight, healthy American men have no idea what kind of discrimination and hatred and harassment and obstacles that people unlike us face everyday. Yes, I’ve had a tragically eventful life at times, and yes, I had to fight like hell to get where I am today. I was relentless and positive and forward-thinking and willing to do whatever it took to survive and thrive, but no one was holding me back because of the color of my skin or my sexual preference or my gender. My biology has afforded me enormous privilege, and I’m quite certain that more than anything else, that has been the greatest factor in my success.”

And I believe it.

Warmer days ahead

The weather has turned cold in New England.

Frost on windshields.
Leafless trees.
Demands that Charlie put on real shoes and socks before heading outdoors, damn it!

On mornings like this one, when I’ll be forced to don a hoodie before heading outside and won’t be able to play golf until well after has risen, I like to scroll through my photos, back to a time when things were a little warmer and a little easier.

I stumbled upon these from last summer.

My beautiful wife, sitting on our friend’s deck on the edge of Puget Sound, playing her ukulele and singing.

I like the change of seasons a lot. I couldn’t imagine watching the Patriots play in balmy temperatures or celebrating Christmas with palm trees. I’d hate to lose the joy of a snow day or the excitement of sledding down a hill alongside my kids. I love watching the leaves change colors and that first real day of spring when you toss your coat aside drive with the windows down.

I love it all.

But it’s also good to have something to aim for in the future. When you’re scraping a windshield or shoveling snow or layering up for a long, cold day in Gillette Stadium, it’s good to remember that there is something different on the horizon.

A return to something glorious and lovely.

This is what I will be aiming for this winter when things get especially cold and hard. A return to a day like this.