Double Standard Dictionary: A Guide To Things That Are Only "Problems" When Women Do Them

See, the thing is, as a writer you are free. You are about the freest person that ever was. Your freedom is what you have bought with your solitude, your loneliness. You are in the country where you make up the rules, the laws. You are both dictator and obedient populace. It is a country nobody has ever explored before. It is up to you to make the maps, to build the cities. Nobody else in the world can do it, or ever could do it, or ever will be able to do it again.

Ursula K. Le Guin, The Language of the Night.

Possibly the Most important thing you'll read this year...

The following is the philosophy of Charles Schulz, the creator of the 'Peanuts' comic strip.

You don't have to actually answer the questions. Just ponder on them. Just read it straight through, and you'll get the point.

1. Name the five wealthiest people in the world.

2. Name the last five Heisman trophy winners.

3. Name the last five winners of the Miss America pageant.

4. Name ten people who have won the Nobel or Pulitzer Prize.

5. Name the last half dozen Academy Award winners for best actor and actress.

6. Name the last decade's worth of World Series winners.

How did you do?

The point is, none of us remember the headliners of yesterday.

These are no second-rate achievers.

They are the best in their fields.

But the applause dies.

Awards tarnish ...

Achievements are forgotten.

Accolades and certificates are buried with their owners.

Here's another quiz. See how you do on this one:

1. List a few teachers who aided your journey through school.

2. Name three friends who have helped you through a difficult time.

3. Name five people who have taught you something worthwhile.

4. Think of a few people who have made you feel appreciated and special.

5. Think of five people you enjoy spending time with.

Easier?

The lesson:

The people who make a difference in your life are not the ones with the most credentials, the most money ... or the most awards. They simply are the ones who care the most.

Had a shitty stupid day, came home and made myself a hot buttered rum, and with the first sip every sore muscle in my body relaxed. In case you need a cure like that, here's my recipe. I make mine in a big ass mug so if you use a standard coffee mug you'll need to size it down. It's all to taste, anyway.

Brew mug most of but not all the way full with strong black tea. Traditionally it's made with hot water but we all know tea is the best kind of hot water. Chai would probably be great but I love just an English breakfast.

Add a couple spoonfuls of brown sugar, a splash of vanilla extract, a little cinnamon, and a pinch of salt (a little more than you think you'll want)

Add rum. A strong warm flavor is ideal - black rum, spiced rum, I got a vanilla one once that made phenomenal buttered rums. Strength is up to you. In a big mug that I'm just drinking for comfort I'll still put a good shot in there, but if you want you can mix this shit deadly and it'll still be delicious.

Look at me. Look at me. I wouldn't lie to you about this. "Buttered" is literal. Add a big hunk of butter. No, bigger than that. Whisk it in until it melts. When you got enough in there it should be just a little paler and more opaque than it started.

If you sip it and it tastes sweet but flat, like it's missing something, add more butter or salt. Enjoy. Don't say I never did anything for you.

“I sometimes need to write things which I cannot completely control but which therefore prove that what is in me is stronger than I am.”

— Albert Camus

wishing you a safe return back to yourself

Adult Children of Emotionally Immature Parents, Lindsay C. Gibson

Stephanie Foo, What My Bones Know: A Memoir of Healing from Complex Trauma

I stare at the screen for hours, trying to make the words come out, but they won't. I can't compel myself to take a break, because there's this voice screaming at me from the base of my brain...

"You've been told you're a great writer, and you want to be a published author. But all you have to show for it after forty-four years are a dozen crash-and-burn writing projects. When you have the time to write, you don't, for a host of reasons. If you don't have something written by the time you die--which comes closer with every passing day--you've wasted your gifts, you've wasted all the effort people put into educating you, and you've wasted your life. So sit down and WRITE, you worthless piece of shit!"

How do you get past the paralysis caused by the obligation to produce? Is there a way to trick your brain and your body into writing? Or do you just slog on through, no matter how long you have to sit there to get a thousand words a day out?

Perhaps you could try to be kinder to yourself.

I always give myself permission to write or to do nothing at all (staring out of the window or at a wall is okay). After a while spent staring at a wall it's often easier to write.

Remember if you write a page a day -- 300 words -- at the end of a year you'll have a 100,000 word novel.