Hello! I hope you’re having a wonderful week, wherever you are. I am on our “ski week” break, which my wife and I were planning to spend in Carmel; however, Hank (my little baby dog I lovingly refer to as my husband) had surgery last week (more teeth removed, and a small bump removed from his back that seems to be okay but that has kept me spiraling for days), and my wife fell in the shower last Friday and broke her nose in four places! Naturally, we did a HARD PIVOT and are at home. Everyone is on the mend, for which I am deeply grateful.
Reading
Over the past few years, whenever I fly, I download an audiobook for the plane. For some reason, I favor thrillers when I am flying (some of my favorites are this, this, and this) and for this flight, I chose Bright Young Women by Jessica Knoll ) who also wrote Luckiest Girl Alive which was later turned into a Netflix film). If you’re new to Bright Young Women, it’s a fictionalized retelling of the Ted Bundy murders. The pacing is excellent, and the details are well-rendered, and Knoll is a capable writer in every sense. But what has intrigued me about this work has been the fact that Knoll simply refers to the murderer as “The Defendant” — refusing to even give him a name. In a Vanity Fair interview about the book, Knoll says:
“I started researching and realized pretty quickly that a lot of what we knew about Ted Bundy had been grossly exaggerated in terms of his intelligence, his charm, and even his scholastic aptitude…I found lots of transcripts, interviews with witnesses who described encounters with him or described witnessing an encounter with him and a victim where they were very clear that like, these women were not smitten with him. They were irritated.”
It reminded me of some advice I got from one of my most beloved writing teachers (if you guessed Megan Stielstra, you’re correct, I will literally never shut up about how much I love her) when I was in the process of writing a draft of my (hopefully someday) book. I spent page after page of that draft describing an ex of mine who had crushed me, clearly trying to make sense of it through the work. Megan very lovingly invited me to consider how much page time I was giving this person, and at one point, flat out said that “this asshole doesn’t deserve this much attention.” She urged me to write more about the overcoming, to trust that the things I left out would do the heavy lifting to convey how much this person had harmed me. I see Knoll doing the same work in this book: she’s honoring the lives of the women involved, rather than elevating Ted Bundy (again) to the level of some sort of sexy, genius, god that simply could not be resisted by these hapless women.
As I’m going through my nonfiction work and also writing fiction, I’ve been keeping both of these examples in mind: who am I giving page time to? Who are other people giving page time to? How are they telling the story without inadvertently making the person who deserves the least attention the hero of the work — or at minimum, the focus of the work?
Annoyingly, this advice is also worth consideration in life: who is genuinely worthy of your attention, and who is not? Is the balance in the favor you’re hoping for? If not, how can you fix it?
Writing
I have been finding literally every possible excuse to avoid my work lately. I was at a conference for work last week, and it was energizing (and, after nearly 20 years in the classroom, that can be a challenge for me) but it also meant that suddenly, I had a convenient excuse for not wanting to write or work on my projects. I needed to lesson plan, I said. I’m department chair, so I need to do this work so I can lead. I need to do laundry/clean my house/reorganize my office/tidy the bedroom/do anything but work. Excuse after excuse.
Yesterday, I caught myself writing in my morning pages that I was bored with my work. “I’m sick of my project,” I wrote. “It’s probably not very good anyway.” I momentarily allowed myself to envision a life where I didn’t write. I pondered getting really into fitness or just watching a lot of TV or making being a teacher my entire personality. Then, I remembered that a few years ago, I’d tweeted (RIP Good Twitter) something similar, asking writing pals what they do when they feel bored with their work.
Alexander Chee, one of my favorite writers and someone I’ve learned an enormous amount from, replied and said something that’s stuck with me:
“Boredom is just fear in disguise.”
When I paused to consider it, both back then and yesterday, I realized that he was absolutely right: the sensation of “boredom” is protecting me. It’s easier to say I’m bored with the work than it is to admit that I’m afraid of what’s coming next. As I think I’ve shared, I’m in a Book Proposal generator, and by April, I should have a proposal to use to query. I’m writing fiction, and getting ready to share that work, and working on a critical thesis, which feels overwhelming (even though I am enjoying my research and work so far). I’m waiting to hear back about some submissions and applications.
Sometimes, I don’t think we talk about the scary parts of being a writer enough. It’s vulnerable as hell to work on a project and then send it out into the ether to have other people decide whether or not it’s worthy of publication, or if the work is good enough to get me into a workshop. Deciding I’m bored with myself and my work is much easier than admitting that I’m afraid: What if it’s rejected? What if no one takes the work? What if I’m never published again?
When boredom shows up, I try to get curious and see what’s underneath it. It’s okay to be scared — I know that. But instead of waiting for the fear to fade, I’m trying to push through anyways. Boredom isn’t a reason to quit, but neither is fear.
I made myself a little graphic of this quote to use as wallpaper on my desktop and my iPhone. If you think you might need this reminder, too, you can grab them HERE (phone) and HERE (desktop). And thank you, of course, to Alexander Chee, for this perfect advice.
Ranting
Please, if you can, donate to support folks in Gaza. This specific link is a GoFundMe for Bisan, a journalist who has been keeping the world informed via her hopeful but honest documentation of the genocide, as well as supporting others. I also recommend the Middle East Children’s Alliance.
I recently remarked to a friend that I was tired of discussing what happened to me in the district where I used to teach. I taught in my former district for five years, and was outed, harassed, and not supported. The district assured me that things would change, but they literally cannot stop being in the news for how they treat students and teachers.
I’ve been happily teaching in my current district for nearly six years now. My principal and vice principal are extremely supportive, and last year, when a hate group found me online and Proud Boys attended a school board meeting in my district to demand my firing, my union, my district, and everyone around me responded with deep compassion and concern for how I was doing.
Then, this week, we learned of the death of Nex Benedict, a non-binary person who was murdered by their classmates for being non-binary at school. Aided by their superintendent’s hateful rhetoric and online hate activists who targeted Nex’s school district, three students beat Nex to death. The school didn’t call an ambulance, or offer serious medical help. They allowed a child to die.
Living in California, I frequently hear that this is a problem in the South or in “red states.” Nex happened to live in Oklahoma, but to write this off as a problem that doesn’t occur in more “liberal havens” is foolish. First of all, queer people have always and will always exist in the South, and everywhere else. Southern queers are organizers, they understand the meaning of community, and keeping one another safe. When we write off the South as a place of ignorance or pretend like these issues don’t exist elsewhere, we do a disservice to everyone and perpetuate harmful stereotypes.
I’ve been an educator since I was 21, and have taught in public schools since I was 23. In recent years, I have watched education become more and more “political” and seen educators be accused of having a “woke agenda.” First, teaching is an inherently political job because we work with all kinds of students, and every single child who walks through the doors of their public school deserves safety and respect. Voting for people who want to harm those children is inexcusable. But secondly, educators cannot do it alone. The school did not respond, and I can only imagine the lack of support Nex received at school, but the sorts of students who beat another living human to death don’t develop those beliefs in a vacuum.
If you’re a parent or an aunt or an educator or someone who works with kids in any fashion, I hope you are having conversations with those kids about how they treat others. I hope you are teaching them to stand up for those who are marginalized. I hope you’re confronting them and their friends about their casual use of slurs and explaining why calling things or people “gay” as an insult is genuinely harmful. I hope that you are reminding them that if they see something, they need to say something. I hope you are calling your school boards and fighting against injustice that happens in your own backyard.
And if you have a queer kid, I hope you’re reminding them how much they are loved and supporting them, cheering for them, and caring for them.
Recommending
It feels foolish to recommend anything this week, in the face of how heavy the world is, but one way I’m supporting Palestine and fat liberation (two of my favorite things) is through purchasing this crop top:
Order yours here. All proceeds go to the Middle East Children’s Alliance.
I am so sorry you went through that at the school district. They failed one of the best teachers (at least my jr high self would think so)
Thanks for another great edition of RWRR. I was impressed and (hopeful?) in reading your explanation re: Bright Young Women and her refusal to give "The Defendant" a name. I recently watched and thoroughly enjoyed the Danish TV Series, The Investigation, similarly this show gives virtually no air time to the accused throughout. The show is about the killing of journalist Kim Wall, who disappeared after going to interview a man who built a homemade submarine. It is not about glorifying the criminal as I have experienced watching other TV true crime shows. It is much more about the loss and the awesome effort that bought about justice. I hope this is a trend!