Matthew Dicks's Blog, page 80

A crying monster

Here’s a weird thing about my recent solo show, “You’re a Monster, Matthew Dicks” that I did not expect:

I kept crying after the show.

I stepped back into the wings at the end of the first night and started crying. This had never happened to me before, and I could not understand why. I was forced to retreat to my dressing room for at least three minutes before finally pulling myself together.

On the second night, I had a Diet Coke on a table in the wings, so when I stepped off the stage, I began crying again, but this time, I had a drink ready, and it dampened my emotions quite a bit.

Drinking something will often do that for a performer—the act of drinking forces at least part of the mind to shift away from its current state.

Still, even with the Diet Coke, I cried.

On the third and final night, I did not leave the stage. Instead, I finished the show and took my bows, and then returned to the microphone to honor someone in the audience. So instead of crying in the wings, I blubbered onstage. Not nearly as much as the first or second night, and perhaps more because of the person I was honoring, but still, I cried.

So weird. Unexpected and confusing.

Three theories as to why:

I had just taken myself through some of the more traumatic moments of my life, living through them on stage again and in front of a sold-out audience, and the accumulation of those moments brought me to tears.My parents never really engaged in my achievements as a child. They never watched me pole vault. Never attended any of my band shows. Rarely attended a Little League game. Never visited me in my apartment when I moved out. I spent a great deal of my youth feeling unnoticed and ignored. So to sell out the theater with friends, family, and strangers, and to receive their appreciation and recognition for something as monumental as what I had accomplished, made me feel seen in a way that hit me right in the heart.The tears were a release of energy and stress accumulated over the months of preparing, planning, and rehearsing the show. For about six months, a considerable amount of my mental space had been occupied by the show, so upon stepping off the stage, the joy in knowing it had all come together produced tears.

All three theories seem entirely reasonable. Perhaps it was a combination of all three.

Either way, it was unexpected and strange, and when and if I perform the show again, I wouldn’t mind acting like a normal person as I step off the stage rather than a blubbering fool.

Bandwidth required

I recently completed the three-night run of my solo show, “You’re a Monster, Matthew Dicks” at Theater Works in Hartford.

I now find myself in that strange space where I am happy and relieved that the show is over and went so well and also saddened that I don’t get to perform it again tonight.

I’ve had theaters across the country inquire about touring with the show, so opportunities abound, and a video of the show is being edited now, so hopefully, I will be able to perform it somewhere again soon.

I accumulated some stories during the run and thought I would share them here. Here’s the first:

On opening night, I made two mistakes in the show. I forgot to tell two stories.

I was able to wedge one of the stories back into the show with relative ease (once I realized that it had been missed), but the other was highly problematic. I knew I had forgotten something very early in the show. I arrived at a transition and could not find the next story, so after a moment of thought, I moved on to the next section, knowing that I was leaving something behind.

But since I could not remember what I was forgetting, I could not determine what the missing part might mean for the show.

About five minutes later, amid my performance, I realized what I had forgotten, so then new calculations needed to be made:

Do I wedge the missing story into the show somewhere else? Was this even possible?If I let the story fall by the wayside, how might it impact the overall show?If I didn’t tell the story, what other parts of the show might break? Would jokes or callbacks stop working? Would a character or setting, or idea need to be introduced in some other way later on?

All of this, of course, was going through my mind while I was performing.

I decided to leave the story out but made a mental note to include it the following night so it could be included in the recording.

Then I determined that at least two jokes would not work without the story, so I had to avoid those jokes and build transitions around them, again, while performing.

This is why bandwidth is so vital for a performer. The ability to perform, connect with the material, and maintain focus and energy while simultaneously problem solve for errors is something you can only do if you have ample capacity onstage.

If you’re overly nervous, panicked, or require every drop of focus and effort to remember and perform the material, you can’t adjust on the fly. Can’t correct a mistake. Can’t look ahead to possible problems lying in wait.

You certainly can’t find brand-new jokes, additional callbacks, and unexpected connections.

All this is to say:

As a performer – storyteller, comic, public speaker, and the like – you need a lot of reps. You need stage time. You need to understand how to perform and calculate simultaneously. You need to be proficient in verbal gymnastics. You need to be able to speak extemporaneously. You need to be able to revise on the fly.

It’s doable, of course. Some people can pull this off more easily than others. Confidence can be immeasurably helpful in this regard. But everyone can learn to do this with enough practice. Everyone can learn to adjust, revise, and problem-solve onstage with enough coaching, strategy, and bandwidth. This is why producers and directors who work with storytellers, comics, public speakers, and other performers without ever taking the stage themselves can only do a small portion of the job.

I’ve watched public speaking coaches work with folks in the corporate world, and within two minutes, I can tell that the coach rarely or has never actually performed onstage themselves.

I have listened to producers and directors work with storytellers and comedians, knowing within seconds that the producer or director has never done the job and has no idea what the job actually requires.

Until the lights are shining in your eyes and you are experiencing everything onstage that a performer faces every day, your coaching and direction can only go so far.

Crafting the material is a big part of the job. Performing the material is also a big part of the job.

Maybe bigger.

If you’ve never felt the fear of standing before hundreds of people, uncertain about what to say next, or worried about what you’ve just forgotten to say, you’re a writer, wordsmith, and maybe editor, but you can’t truly help a performer do the job.

The words are important. Of course. But the physical and mental act of performing is just as important. Unless you’ve done it yourself and understand what it’s like, in your heart and soul, your direction and coaching will ultimately fail the performer.

Do the job, and then teach the job.

Walking talking spell check

While visiting the Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum earlier this month, Elysha found a typo on a plaque.

Goldilocks planets orbit their stars at just the right distance – not too hot and not too cold.

Except the plaque reads:

“not to too hot and not to cold”

Elysha alerted a docent about the error, who at least pretended that he was hearing about this error for the first time.

One day later, while touring the FBI Academy at Quantico, she found another typo on another plaque. We could not take a photo of that error because photography was not allowed, and we value our freedom from a federal detention facility.

Two mistakes spotted in two days.

My wife clearly strikes fear in the hearts of plaque makers everywhere.

Resolution update: July 2023

Every month I report the progress of my yearly goals in order to monitor progress (or the lack thereof) and hold myself accountable.  The following are the results from July 2023.PERSONAL FITNESS

1. Don’t die.

Still alive.

As always, I plan on living forever or die trying.

2. Lose 20 pounds.

I lost another two pounds in July, bringing my total weight loss to 37 pounds in 2023.

I won’t declare victory until I get through the year with sustained weight loss, but at the moment, the goal to lose 20 pounds, as well as my revised goal of 30 pounds, has been achieved.

Now that I’ve hit my new goal, I’m setting my sights on another 10 pounds, which would bring my total weight loss to 40 pounds. This might be difficult but not impossible.

I’ve begun the process of replacing my wardrobe.

3. Do at least 100 push-ups, 100 sit-ups, and three one-minute planks five days a week.

I did not miss a single day in July.

4. Cycle for at least five days every week. 

Done. I missed four days in July when I was on vacation in Washington, DC. However, I used a rowing machine during one of those days.

I also rode the bike (stationary and actual bike) two or more times on a single day for 18 days in July.

5. Improve my golfing handicap by two strokes. 

My handicap at the start of the year was 17.6.

I played about a dozen rounds of golf in July, and my handicap is holding steady at 20.9.

However, I set a personal best of 43 for 9 holes in July, and I also shot a 45 and 46, too.

All excellent scores for me. Great improvement.

WRITING CAREER

6. Complete my eighth novel.

The book is about half complete, but I haven’t made any progress in 2023 as I focus on my nonfiction first.

7. Write my next Storyworthy book.

Work continues. A total of 13 chapters completed. Due September 1.

8. Write/complete at least three new picture books, including one with a female, non-white protagonist.

My agent still has my beaver-related picture book for review.

I’ve also started two new ideas. Short, incomplete, and very much in the rough draft stage. All of this must wait until the fall, but I feel excited about the ideas I have.

9. Write a new solo show.

Done. The show is complete and ready to go.

10. Perform a new solo show.

Done. Performed July 30 and 31. I’ll be performing one more time tonight.

11. Write a musical.

My friend Kaia and I are writing a musical that we will also perform, even though I cannot sing. She writes the music and lyrics. She and I write the story.

I need to write some of the story in order for Kaia to begin writing music. I haven’t done that yet because we are currently immersed in the solo show, but once it’s done, I’m hoping to turn my focus on this next staged project.

12. Submit at least five Op-Ed pieces to The New York Times for consideration.

No progress.

13. Write at least four letters to my father.

I wrote a birthday note to my father in March.

One letter has been sent in 2023 so far.

14. Write 100 letters in 2022.

Done.

Another 12 letters were sent in July, bringing the total number to 106.

Recipients included former students, friends, and two places of business.

15. Convert 365 Days of Elysha into a book.

No progress. There is probably a company that does this sort of thing.

16. Read at least 12 books. 

I did not finish a book in July.

Eight books so far in 2023.

I’m in the middle of reading the following books:

“The Other Wes Moore” by Wes Moore
“Hooked: How to Build Habit-Forming Products” by Nir Eyal and Ryan Hoover
“Tough Sh*t” by Kevin Smith
“From Saturday Night to Sunday Night” by Dick Ebersol
“Think Like a Monk” by Jay Shetty
“The Groucho Letters”

Eight books read so far in 2023.

“Sapiens” by Yuval Harari
“Life’s a Gamble” by Mike Sexton
“The Sea We Swim In” by Frank Rose
“Born a Crime” by Trevor Noah
This Will All Be Over Soon” by Cecily Strong
“Magic Words” by Jonah Berger
“The Science of Storytelling” by William Storr
“Slayers and Vampires” by Edward Gross and Mark Altman

17. Read TIME’s 100 Best Children’s Books of All Time. 

I didn’t read any of these books in July. Reading will resume in September when school starts.

A total of 15 so far.

I’ve read many of the other books on the list in the past, but I am only counting those books that I have read in 2023 toward my goal.

18. Write to at least six authors about a book I love. 

No progress.

STORYTELLING/SPEAKING CAREER

19. Complete the re-recording of Storyworthy For Business. 

“Storyworthy” for Business is complete and available for purchase. Find it and much more at storyworthymd.com.

I want to produce a much-improved version of the course ASAP. Module 1 is now re-recorded. A lot more needs to be done.

20. Record the next Storyworthy course.

Done.

Two brand-new courses have been added to the Storyworthy platform:

Finding Stories
Anatomy of a Story
Humor: Volume #1

I’m proud of all of them. You should check them out.

21. Produce a total of six Speak Up storytelling events in 2023

We co-produced the Great Hartford Story Slam in July.

Three shows in 2023 so far:

April 22 at the Connecticut Historical SocietyMay 4 in partnership with Voices of HopeJuly 29 at Hartford Flavor Company

22. Pitch myself to at least three upcoming TEDx events with the hopes of being accepted by one.

Done!

I spoke at a TEDx event at the University of Connecticut in January. It went well despite a malfunctioning clicker that sometimes advanced two slides instead of one.

You can’t imagine how annoyed this made me.

Also, due to the delay in posting a TEDx Talk from more than a year ago, my University of Connecticut talk will not be loaded onto the TED platform for reasons I don’t quite understand.

I also spoke at a TEDx event in Natick, MA on April 13. It went quite well.

I pitched myself to TEDx events in Harlem, Roxbury, and on the campus of Yale University. Harlem has declined. I await word from the two others.

23. Attend at least eight Moth events with the intention of telling a story.

I attended one StorySLAM in July in New York. My name remained stubbornly in the hat again.

A total of ten Moth shows attended in 2023 thus far.

24. Win at least one Moth StorySLAM.

Done. I won the Moth StorySLAM in Boston on March 29.

25. Win a Moth GrandSLAM.

I competed in a Moth GrandSLAM in Boston in May and did not win. I also had to go first, which is not exactly fun or conducive to winning.

I was invited to compete in the Seattle GrandSLAM in March, but traveling cross country was not possible at that time.

I await invitations from producers in New York, Washington DC, and Boston again (where I have won StorySLAMs in the past year) when my turn comes up.

26. Produce at least 24 episodes of our podcast Speak Up Storytelling.

No progress.

27. Perform stand-up at least six times in 2022.

No progress.

28. Pitch three stories to This American Life.

No progress.

29. Pitch myself to Marc Maron’s WTF podcast at least three times.

No progress.

30. Send a newsletter to readers at least 50 times. 

Two newsletters were sent in July. One storytelling newsletter and one Speak Up update.

A total of 41 newsletters have been sent thus far in 2023.

HOME

31. Clear the basement.

Progress continues and is going well. One more large piece of furniture to remove. Many more items need to be removed.

32. Clean and clear the garage.

A much-needed dumpster, a trip to the dump,  or perhaps a neighbor’s tag sale will be key to completing this task, but it’s nearly done. There are large items that need to be discarded, and a pile of school supplies needs to be organized or eliminated, but otherwise, almost complete.

33. Furnish and decorate the studio. 

Done!

34. Eliminate clothing not being worn and closet bins.

Just two bins left to go through with Elysha.

FAMILY/FRIENDS

35. Text or call my brother or sister once per month. 

Done.

36. Take at least one photo of my children every day.

Done.

37. Take at least one photo with Elysha and me each week.

Six photos were taken in July. My best month ever!

38. Plan a reunion of the Heavy Metal Playhouse.

No progress.

39. I will not comment – positively or negatively – about the physical appearance of any person save my wife and children in order to reduce the focus on physical appearance in our culture overall.

Done.

I actually credit someone in my solo show for being better-looking than me, but it’s a joke, and there is no specific target of the joke.

40. Surprise Elysha at least six times in 2023.

No surprises in July. Eleven surprises so far in 2023, including:

Half a dozen birthday cards, all handmade, scattered throughout her life on her birthdayTickets to the upcoming Lizzo concertA Pusheen Mystery BoxGoodie bag of Trader Joe’s delightsCoat from Canyon RanchVisit from KathySurprise dessert delivered personally to her schoolAnother surprise surprise dessert delivered personally to her schoolAnother Pusheen Mystery BoxTickets to Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me, Tina Fey/Amy Poehler, and Jenny LewisFlowers following Clara’s dance recital

41. Play poker at least six times in 2023.

No progress. It’s ridiculous since I love this game so much.

42. Spend at least six days with my best friend of more than 30 years.

No visits in July. Two visits in total in 2023.

MUSIC

43. Memorize the lyrics to at least five favorite songs. 

I memorized the lyrics to “Lay It On Me” by Vance Joy.

I memorized the lyrics to “Come a Little Bit Closer” by Jay and the Americans.

I’m still working on Fleetwood Mac’s “Go Your Own Way” and “Renegade” by Styx (with Charlie and Clara).

Others, too.

44. Learn to play the piano by practicing at least three times a week. 

Done.

MISCELLANEOUS PROJECTS

45. Learn the names of every employee who works at my school.

I learned the name of two paraprofessionals who will not be working in our school in September. Oh well.

But September is a great time to ensure that I learn the names of new employees.

46. Convert our wedding video to a transferable format.

Done! The wedding video, along with a great deal of other content, was successfully extracted from my ancient Apple laptop. The footage was not removed in perfect order, so some work will need to be done to reassemble the parts of the video, but at last, this goal has been completed.

47. Memorize five new poems.

No progress. But there is a show in Hartford called Other People’s Poems, where you read (and perhaps recite poetry) from memory.

I plan to attend in September.

48. Write to at least three colleges about why they should hire me.

I have begun writing the letter, though I’m starting to wonder if I would still want the job.

49. Complete my Eagle Scout project.

I’ve reached out to the folks who manage the cemeteries in Newington for assistance on this project in March.

No response.

Still need to reach out again.

50. Post my progress regarding these resolutions on this blog and social media on the first day of every month.

Done!

Explaining my recent weight loss

Someone asked me about my recent weight loss and how it was accomplished.

In truth, many people have asked me about my recent weight loss, but just one person this week—last night.

I understand the question. Since January 1, 2023, I’ve lost 36 pounds, which is admittedly a lot of weight over seven months. But let me be clear that weight loss methods are my own. I am not implying that simply following my method will produce similar results, nor does anyone require any results.

You be you.

Also, everyone is different. Age, sex, metabolism, and an endless number of additional factors make me different than you, so what works for me may have no impact on you.

But in answer to this frequently asked question, “How did you manage to lose so much weight so quickly?” here is my response:

In December of 2022, I was riding my indoor exercise bike and chatting with my son, Charlie. I rode for about 45 minutes, and Charlie talked with me most of that time. As he walked away with about five minutes left on my ride, it occurred to me:

“It shouldn’t be so easy to talk to Charlie while I exercise.”

I was exercising every day. Some days more than once. My exercise amounted to bike riding – indoor and outdoor, depending on the weather and my schedule – plus daily push-ups, sit-ups, and planks. I also walk the golf course and carry my bag when the weather is good, and I walk a lot and am on my feet for much of the day.

But as I reflected on how easily I had conversed with Charlie, I realized that none of my workouts were especially strenuous.

Yes, I was pedaling, but I was hardly panting. Rarely working up a sweat.

Even my push-ups and sit-ups had become relatively easy. I was able to bang out sets of 25 with ease.

“If you’re going to exercise,” I told myself, “it should be hard. You shouldn’t be able to so easily talk to Charlie while working out.”

I decided that beginning in 2023, I would make my exercise count. Whenever I was riding my bike, I would work like hell. I would make every workout as strenuous, challenging, and painful as possible.

If I was going to spend 30-45 minutes exercising every day, I would make that time as impactful as possible.

I also altered my push-up and sit-up routine, moving from 25 to 50 per set. This turned out to be too ambitious. I could do four sets of 50 sit-ups, but more than one set of 50 push-ups was impossible unless I spaced them further apart. So push-ups became six sets of 30 instead of four sets of 50.

Still, I worked like hell.

My bike ride instantly transformed from leisurely rides to breakneck hellscapes. I breathe hard, sweat a lot, and suffer mightily. I push myself relentlessly for the entire time I spend on the bike, and when I’m not listening to music, I am watching something on my iPad to inspire me:

The Netflix documentary “Drive to Survive.” Movies like the John Wick and Mission Impossible franchises. Any film or TV show wherein the protagonist must battle hordes of evildoers, survive unimaginable odds, and win the big game.

It helps.

But that’s it. I didn’t change anything about my diet. I still eat the same foods in the same portions. Cheeseburgers and Egg McMuffins and pasta. Healthy foods, too. But essentially the same diet as I was eating last year, though exercise admittedly lowers my appetite, so I am less likely to crave a snack after exercising.

I also often ride the bike twice daily now, 20-40 minutes at a time. Despite the effort required and the burning in my legs, it’s become something I like a lot. It no longer feels like something I need to do. I’m no longer killing time. Instead, I’m doing something great. Spending my time wisely. Achieving results.

And I feel great after every workout. Better than ever before.

Again, this does not mean that simply leveling up your exercise regime will cause you to lose 36 pounds. Everyone is different. But I believe that small, sustainable changes, repeated over time, can lead to extraordinary results.

Six years ago, my cholesterol was slightly elevated at 206. My doctor offered me medication but said I might be able to lower it through diet. Wanting to avoid taking daily meds, I asked what I should eat.

Oatmeal was on the list of foods that could help, so every single workday for a year, I ate oatmeal without exception. I changed nothing else except for this one small thing. When I returned to the doctor a year later, my cholesterol was down to 158.

She was shocked. “How did you do it?”

“Oatmeal,” I told her. “I eat it five days a week for lunch and sometimes on the weekend, too.”

Six years later, I continue eating oatmeal for lunch every day at work and sometimes at home. My cholesterol remains low, and I have managed to avoid medication of any kind.

Will this work for you?

Maybe. I also have friends who are genetically predisposed to high cholesterol. They could eat oatmeal three times a day and still require medication.

Again, I am different than you. What works for me may not work for you.

But small changes, repeated over time? That strategy can work for everyone, and the results are often extraordinary.

You may choose to change something entirely different. Your goals might also be different. But small, repeatable changes stretched out over long periods of time can make a huge difference.

That is how I lost weight and continue to lose weight.

It’s how I lowered my cholesterol and kept it low.

It’s also how I write books:

One sentence at a time. A small change, repeatedly made again and again until my book is finally finished.

Don’t try to do everything. Don’t try to do it all. Don’t look for giant leaps or overnight successes.

Small changes. Repeated again and again.

That’s what did it for me.

Life can always be made more interesting

Earlier this year, my student took an interesting approach to Wordle.

Clever. Right? And depending on your disposition, funny, too.

At least I thought so.

But also a good lesson for us all:

Games (and perhaps almost anything in life) can always be made more fun and more interesting by simply adding a new layer of complexity.

For my son, Charlie, this means requesting a new challenge while he sets the table for dinner:

Left hand only.
You’re only allowed a total of nine steps.
You need to say the name of a US President aloud every time you take a step.

This kind of thing can take many forms.

Sometimes golfers play a round with only three clubs.
“Iron Chef” is a television show that challenges people to cook a meal using a secret, often unusual ingredient.
Ernest Vincent Wright wrote “Gadsby,” a novel that does not include any words that contain the letter E.
I wrote an entire book, “Twenty-one Truths About Love,” entirely in the form of lists.

I will sometimes attempt to walk from one place to another with my eyes closed, seeing if I can navigate the world without sight.

Can I make it to my car with my eyes closed?
Can I navigate this stretch of hallway while blind?
How long can I walk around my house, unable to see, before bumping into something?

I do this more often than you might think.

In the case of my student and her game of Wordle, her new level of complexity was this:

I can only use words that would make fussy adults uncomfortable.

Just like that, an already interesting game became more interesting.

Conquering boredom at a boring museum

I took the kids to the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History during our time in Washington, DC.

It’s not my favorite museum. Like the Natural History Museum in New York City, it’s filled with inert objects and dead things:

Taxidermied animals, rocks, gemstones, fossils…

Most of the exhibits bore me, and the taxidermied animals make me a little sad.

Happily, my children, and especially Charlie, assisted in keeping me entertained by taking amusing photos as we toured the museum.

It turns out I had a great time.

Whenever my children or students tell me they’re bored, I tell them I haven’t been bored in decades – and it’s true – because creativity and originality can conquer boredom every time.

Find a way to amuse, entertain, or educate yourself regardless of the situation, and you will never be bored.

My friend, Bengi, and I were especially good at this when we were young. We would give each other five ridiculous, embarrassing, potentially offensive things to say to strangers, and then we would compete to see who could say those things first.

Or we would play Mall Football, wherein Bengi would walk from one end of a mall to the other in a perfectly straight line at a constant pace, and I would serve as the lead blocker, moving people out of the way by any means necessary lest they come in contact with him.

I took this game so seriously that Bengi would sometimes stop playing with me because he was worried about the safety of others.

Still, we managed to entertain ourselves constantly. It never took much. Whether through overt action or internal diversion, boredom can always be avoided when you choose to be creative, divergent, experimental, subversive, provocative, or contrary.

Admittedly, this sometimes means that I can be distracting or even difficult in meetings that disrespect the value of my time and degrade my sense of adulthood, but I had a colleague who would position himself so that he could watch the people attending a meeting react to my antics, so in that case, not only was I entertaining myself, but I was also entertaining a friend.

The best kind of rocket fuel

In 2002, golfer Brian Harman held a one-stroke lead entering the final hole of the U.S. Open Junior Championship. He hit his next shot into the water and would go on to lose the tournament.

In 2017, Harman entered the final round of the U.S. Open with a one-stroke lead. He couldn’t hold on, ultimately finishing in a tie for second place.

On Saturday, after going into the third round of The Open Champion with a five-stroke lead, he putted two bogeys in his first four holes — and seemed destined for a similar fate.

That’s when eight words from a heckler in the gallery changed his mentality.

“Harman, you don’t have the stones for this,” the spectator said.

But a little over 24 hours later, Harman captured his first Open championship — and credited the slight from the fan as the fuel he needed to lock in.

“It helped snap me back into, ‘I’m good enough to do this. I’m going to do this. I’m going to go through my process, and the next shot is going to be good,’” he said.

This appeared in Mike Lombardi’s outstanding newsletter, “The Daily Coach.”

I love this story.

More than a decade ago, a small cabal of not-so-anonymous cowards tried to end my teaching career in spectacular fashion. They sullied my name and reputation in an outrageous, unprecedented, coordinated attempt to portray me in a deliberately disingenuous and defamatory way.

And for a moment, they thought they had succeeded. They actually bragged to people about their imminent victory.

But they were wrong. They did not succeed. They failed because they were wrong and wicked and rotten.

Instead, the community rose up and supported me. My friends stood by me. Colleagues came to my defense. Politicians stood by my side. In a stunning bit of drama, the summer ended with every single parent of my future class insisting that I teach their children in the coming year while others clamored for a spot in my classroom if a parent opted out.

It was one of the most challenging times in my life and Elysha’s life, but ultimately, we won.

But the people responsible for those heinous actions remained in my orbit. In some cases, they remain in my orbit today, And despite their attempts to remain anonymous or mitigate their responsibility, their identities quickly became known to me, which meant I had to see them often.

I still see some of them from time to time.

But this only fueled my fire to be as successful as possible. It made me want to be the best, most successful, happiest, healthiest, most prosperous human being I could be.

Winning, I knew, would be the best revenge.

One year after those cowards initiated their attack – almost to the day – I sold my first novel to Doubleday. I made my dreams come true by becoming a published author and launching a successful writing career that has led to six novels, two nonfiction books, and at least two more books on the way for next year.

We bought our home thanks to that first book.

One year later, Clara was born. Thanks to my publishing career, Elysha was able to stay home with our children for the next decade.

One year after that, I stood on a stage in New York City and told my first story. I won that first competition and have gone on to win many, many more. That first story has led to an unexpected but blessed career in consulting, taking me to places as far away as Victoria, Canada, and Sao Paulo, Brazil. It’s afforded me the opportunity to share stages around the world with incredible performers, meet amazing people, forge new friendships, and work for Fortune 100 companies, Ivy League universities, religious organizations, hospitals, schools, and most recently, the FBI.

It allowed Elysha and me to launch Speak Up, producing more than 100 shows throughout Connecticut over the past ten years.

United States Senator Chris Murphy performed in one of our shows.

My storytelling career has also led to TEDx Talks, opportunities to serve as a substitute minister in churches, a chance to perform Jewish folktales in concert with a full orchestra, days spent with members of the Mohawk Nation of Canada teaching storytelling, weekends spent working and relaxing at luxury resorts, and so much more.

Every step of the way, every bit of success that I have enjoyed, I think about those who tried so desperately to destroy my teaching career. I think about how much my success must endlessly frustrate them.

They wanted to see me fail. They wanted to bring my dream of becoming a school teacher to an end. Instead, I’ve used their hatred and vileness as fuel to succeed.

Every single day that I enter my school since those terrible days  – without exception – I place my hand on the door to my classroom, and just before I pull it open, I think, “I’m still here. You lost. I won.”

Like Brian Marman, who found focus and confidence in the words of a pathetic, sidelined naysayer, I, too, find fuel to be successful by reflecting on the past and what a small group of people tried to do to me.

We cannot allow our detractors, critics, and honest-to-goodness enemies to undermine our confidence, strike fear in our hearts, or cause us to pause in pursuing our dreams. Instead, we must use their words and deeds as the impetus for our future success. We must take their negativity and use it as rocket fuel to the stars.

Admittedly not always the easiest thing to do, but if you can, and you must, it’s the very best thing to do.

An app idea you can please steal

Here’s my vision:

I’m driving down Starr Boulevard in my town of Newington, CT. I come to a traffic light and stop. I remove my phone, click on the app, and instantly, I am transmitted information about the name of this street.

Why Starr?Why the double R?Is the street named after a person, and if so, who was it, and what did they do to deserve the honor of a street name?

Street names have a purpose. Sometimes a developer simply sticks their name to the street, but more often, there was a reason behind the name. I hate that I can’t always know that reason.

I’ve considered writing a book explaining all the street names of a random town in the United States.

My hometown, perhaps.

Here’s the one problem with my app (and probably my book idea):

I may be the only person who is intensely curious about this topic and desperately wants this information.

So my idea might not be quite as profitable as I was hoping.

But if you love my idea as much as I do and want to build that app, please do so. I’m here, anxiously waiting to use it.

My FBI visit

Storytelling has taken me to some unexpected places.

Most recently, the Federal Bureau of Investigation.

I’ll be doing some work with the FBI in the coming months, pertaining specifically to storytelling and communication, which afforded me the chance to visit the FBI Academy in Quantico, Virginia, with my family and some friends a couple of weeks ago.

We were given a lengthy tour of the facility, which was incredibly interesting. We visited Hogan’s Alley, a mock town where agents learn how to safely and effectively navigate an unending series of dangerous and complex situations they may face while on duty. Every building – homes, apartments, a bank, and stores of every kind – looked real but was built to test the agent’s tactical planning and precision.

Oddly enough, amid all of these mock buildings is a functioning Subway restaurant.

We saw rifle ranges, where snipers learn to hit targets up to 2,000 yards away.

We saw a track where agents learn to drive cars, armored vehicles, and more under every possible situation.

We saw tactical vehicles of every kind, and Charlie had a chance to sit inside a helicopter being readied for flight. The pilot took the time to chat with him, and given Charlie’s love for aviation, he was able to correctly identify many of the controls of the helicopter.

But best of all, we learned about the history of the FBI and what life is like for an agent on any given day.

I came away from my visit with a profound respect for the men and women who choose to work for an organization whose mission is to save lives while putting their own at risk every day. These people work harder than most other human beings to train and prepare for any situation, and they often have little say – at least initially – over the job they are assigned or the location they are sent to.

As an American, I left the Academy feeling deeply grateful for the work these people have done and continue to do on behalf of our country and the American people.

Lately, politicians have chosen to attack the FBI and similar law enforcement institutions almost exclusively for personal and political gain. When politicians call for the defunding of the FBI because their allies are being investigated and prosecuted or question the dedication and bravery of its agents, or when they imply that the insurrection at the Capitol on January 6 was anything less than a violent, brutal, and deadly assault on our most hallowed hall of government and the brave men and women charged with protecting it, they do not deserve to hold a leadership position ever again.

They are the living, breathing definition of un-American.

They disgust me.

I can’t wait to do my tiny part in helping these men and women do their job a teeny-tiny bit better.