A Season in the Show

H.D. Lynn:

Every writer needs to read this ASAP. You never know where your career is going, so just keep on it. Something will happen.

Originally posted on Whatever:

This last weekend I had an enjoyable time at the Confusion convention, which is no surprise, as I usually do — it’s one of the reasons I’ve gone back to it now for nine years running. I mostly hung out in the bar and talked to writers, doing the usual combination of business talk and complete idiocy, as writers generally do at conventions when they chat with each other.

One evening I talked to a couple of different authors about writing careers and the ups and downs careers have, and how from time to time we’re all filled with frustration with them, especially during a downturn. We all want to be on award lists; we all want to have bestsellers. If those things don’t happen we can wonder if what we’re doing matters much at all. As we were talking about it I came up with a metaphor which I…

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The sickness in your head

When I did 30 hour famines to raise money for world vision, it was easy for me. I was already going every other day without eating — or subsisting on two yogurts and two cans of peaches a day. I figured I could at least put my ‘diet’ to good use. No one in my life knew what to do about this. I was naive enough to think they didn’t notice; they did, but no one knew what to say, what to do. My not eating was shameful, and it was easier to everyone to pretend it wasn’t happening.

Which didn’t make it go away.

The first time I googled trichotillomania, I cried. Ugly cried — tears all over the key-board, chest heaving sobs. Who wants to go bald? Why did I keep pulling? I had fantasies of shaving my head and just getting rid of all my hair that night. It didn’t want this disease to be my life, but it was. It still is. I can’t get rid of it. Saying, “Why don’t you try not being obsessed with your hair and skin pulling?” is like saying, “Why don’t you just trying not to be depressed?”

It doesn’t work that way.

Trich and anorexia are both fueled by shame, but it’s taken me over a decade to learn that. And keeping quiet, pretending these things don’t exist, isn’t a way to deal with them. Like a weed, shame is the root, and that’s what I target when anorexia or trich springs up in a new and exciting form in my life.

If you’re struggling with a mental disease, I wish I could say there was one guaranteed way to kill it off. There’s not, but I know that, and you probably do, too. I wage my own personal war against shame and worthlessness everyday, and sometimes I win, but other times, I’m unable to climb out of that spiraling pit that opens in my head when I start pulling my hair.

I want whoever googles trichotillomania to have a different experience than I did. There is behavioral therapy out there. There are people who won’t treat your disease like it’s gross. You’re not alone. Does it get better — sometimes. Does it go away — no. But it’s real, and you have permission to take care of yourself, to decide that you want something else besides your disease to define your life.

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The Joys of Working Your Ass Off

Hurry up and wait — it’s the most frustrating emotional loop to fall into. This makes my life choices — research and writing — a hell of a patience test. I’m low on patience and not fond of surprises. This summer? It was trying. The moving, the constant travel, the settling in, and the endless check list.

And there’s only one solution to this: meaningful work. A new lab means new machines, new experiments. I got more into backpacking this year. I’ve written nearly 300k words in the past six months. These things? They’re the only antidotes I know to tedium.

On the hiking end, I got to go back to the Olympic Peninsula. And it’s awesome and beautiful, so I’m going to leave my favorite pictures from that trip here. Because, if nothing else, you can always have the mountains.

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15 Camping Hacks That Actually Make Sense

I love me some nature — the animals, the walking, hunkering down in tents, snuggling in cabins, a good fire, the smell of the dirt, and the pure feeling of being immersed in scenery porn. There are many ways to go and be outdoors. I’m not about to tell anybody the ‘right way’ to enjoy nature or what parts should be most important to them. At this time of the year, people are gearing up to go camping and hiking. (Hey, I got a new tent. I’m ready!)

There are things you do in your own backyard or at your friend’s cabin that you can’t do in the back country — or even at a campground designed for car camping. Going into a public space — and most nature in the US is public land — means respecting the ecosystem and rules set up to protect you and the wildlife. If you haven’t hiked or camped a lot, things that seem ‘fun’ or ‘easier’ really fall under the category of ‘unnecessary’ or even ‘dangerous’. And the 41 Camping Hacks article has more than a few tips that aren’t nature friendly. Hell, they aren’t even real hacks. Here is my improved list of 15 tips that’ll help you have a better hiking and camping experience this summer.

That blue heron caught several fish -- I was just too slow to photograph it

That blue heron caught several fish — I was just too slow to photograph it

1. By an inflatable mattress and double it up with a yoga mat. You actually will be able to buy and find the yoga mat — you may already have one. And log onto Backcountry.com and you’ll be able to find plenty of deals on any level and price of inflatable mattress you want. Or just use a mattress — a foam or inflatable one depending on personal preference.

Inflatable mattress + yoga mat. Because let’s face it: many of you probably don’t even know where you can buy those foam pads

2. Using tin cans as a ‘portable food option’ to store bread is nonsensical. Let me give you a tip: the only thing you need to protect your food is a bear canister. This goes for car camping and backpacking. You can usually rent one, some campsites already have them at your site, and you can buy them for around $80. There are places that specifically require canisters, and that’s because canisters reduce the rate of bear/human incidents. Here’s a basic list of where bear canisters are required and where they’re highly recommended. It’s not just bears that get into your food. It’s ‘mini-bears’ — raccoons, squirrels, chipmunks, ect. — and they are vicious little vermin.

3. Don’t glue sandpaper to your match box. Buy storm proof matches and bring a second lighter option (I use a Bic cigarette lighter) for good weather.

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4. Biodegradable toilet paper and sanitary wipes should cover all the pooping materials you need. Put them in a ziplock bag. If you’re in an area where you have to pack it out, place the TP bag inside of a second ziploack bag filled with a bit of backing soda. I’ve also used leaves and smooth rocks for TP, but if that thought makes you sad, just don’t go on prolonged wilderness backpacking trips.

I don’t know why you would do this — even when car camping. There are usually running water toilets when you’re car camping — so bringing toilet paper is unnecessary. And are you really going to lug around a coffee can on a hike?

5. Hammocks are cool — in theory. Everyone wants to go outdoors and lounge in a hammock. And you can. No problem. I just think there are cheaper ones than these ones that remind me of baby swings and cost $399.

It’s a $400 baby swing.

6. On the topic of soap and cleanliness: you’re in the outdoors. There is dirt. There are bugs. Don’t try to over-sanitize it because nature will just blow a big, dirty kiss at you. Dr. Bronners soap (unscented) soap is great for camping, and it’s affordable and easy to find. I use it to wash pots, pans, and myself.

This is a day hike during a car camping trip. Charlie's messenger bag is what we carried to keep snacks, water, and first aid in.

This is a day hike during a car camping trip. Charlie’s messenger bag is what we carried to keep snacks, water, and first aid in.

7. I don’t even know what to say about the laundry detergent one. I’ve never seen anyone do this — nor have I ever had a ‘hand washing station’ even when car camping. This isn’t a hack at all — it’s more time consuming to construct and use than just pouring some drinking water over your hands. If you must, get a water filter and use the filtered water to wash your hands. Soap does kill germs, I promise.

This isn’t smart at all. Just use regular water and some soap.

8. This isn’t a hack, either. At the end of the day, all of your pots and pans should either go back in your car or into your bear canister. If you’re not car camping, make sure they’ll fit into the bear canister if you’ve done anything but boil water in them. Despite where you are (established camp ground or primitive site), your pots and pans should definitely not be handing on a tree. I just don’t understand the logic of this one. You can’t wrap those pots in a microfiber towel or put them into a trash bag to ‘keep them clean’? Remember the part about bears and mini-bears? If you’ve cooked food with those, you’re going to have guests coming to sniff at those pans.

Not a hack. If you want animals to come over and investigate your campsite looking for food, do this.

9. The ‘portable washing machine’ is hilarious (and tragic), and it’s another thing I’ve never seen anyone do. Ever, not even in my years of car camping. If you’re out for just 2-3 days, you can bring enough clothes to not have to wash any of them. If you’re on a more extended hiking trip, or feel you really need to wash something, that is what creeks are for. Or, my favorite trick, is to find camp ground showers and crawl in with my clothes on and wash them when I wash myself. Once again, this really isn’t a hack — you’re bringing more things with you that aren’t going to add to the enjoyment of camping. The real hack is showering with your clothes on.

I have never seen anyone do this.

10. There’s a lot of focus on creating lamps and light for your campsite. First, you’re probably going to get plenty of daylight (I’m assuming it’s summer). If you light a campfire, you’ll definitely have enough light. For extra light, flashlights and headlamps are all you should need. If you want ‘mood lighting’, go for it, but don’t use homemade oil lamps. They’re going to be more of a fire hazard than anything. If you’re in your tent, use headlamps when it’s dark. But don’t make hotel shampoo bottles into oil lamps. You will start a forest fire.

Pictured: an unsafe fire hazard

11. This is a picture of what is called ‘disposable hiking tape.’

Uses: none

If you’re hiking, here are two very important things you should do: 1) bring a compass (and know how to use it) and 2) bring a map. If you have problems using a compass and a map, you shouldn’t be going off trail. Hell, in many national parks and forests, there are areas where you specifically should not go off trail because if everyone did this, the ecosystem would get severely damaged. I posted my Olympic hiking photos from March, and we were told that the trail in the Hoh rainforest was a sludge path, but don’t go off the trail because if everyone did, the surrounding plant life would get trampled into mud. Trails are there to keep your clumsy, human feet from stomping all over nature. Many trails are well maintained or at least clear enough that a good (topographic) map should keep you from getting lost.

12. Don’t use a bucket and a milk crate as a disposable toilet. I’ve never seen this done, and it’s just as asinine as the laundry bucket idea. If you’re car camping, there are usually running water toilets. At some more primitive campsites, there are pit toilets. If you’re in the back country, you’re going to be digging catholes. If you’re not comfortable digging a hole and pooping in it, you shouldn’t be camping in the back country. Also, I don’t think I’d want to hike a full minute trying to carry a ‘disposable toilet’.

13. Once more with the light sources: don’t bring unnecessary fire hazards. Your best bet is to bring extra batteries for headlamps and flashlights. The phrase ‘emergency light source’ should equal ‘extra batteries’ in your mind.

Pictured: more terrible advice

14. Another quick word about food: Use bear canisters. If you’re car camping, coolers are great, but there’s a reason bear canisters have quickly become the norm in food storage regulations on federal lands — it’s because they work. Most of the food tips on this list aren’t bad — hell, one of the reasons I still go car camping is to bring the dutch oven and make some awesome food over an open fire. But I pack up my food properly at the end of the day.

15. Honorable mentions: there are some tips that are actually good. The instant coffee and the microfiber towel are things I do carry on all my camping trips. They’re easy — and they work for car camping as well as in the back country. A lot of these tips are not applicable if you’re hiking and camping when you have to lug stuff on your back before you get to your campsite. The food ideas are fine for cabin BBQs or car camping, but I won’t be hauling spices with me on the 4 day 45 mile hike I’m taking this summer.

Pictured: all you need to enjoy nature

Pictured: all you need to enjoy nature

You’re going to need the XL bleach bottle

There are times when it feels like someone threw your brains into a plastic cup like the dice you play Yahtzee with. Except you’re not playing Yahtzee. You’re playing Jenga and the dice are being chucked at the tower because I don’t understand how family game night works. But I do understand metaphors. And this is a metaphor for how it feels to move. You don’t know what genre-bending mash-up you’ve gotten yourself into, but you’re sure as hell in it. Knock that tower down. Roll a full house. There’s no scoring system for this.

In the Game of Moving, the points are made up. The rules don’t matter.

The first step — plan ahead. (Don’t worry, even if you skip this step, everything else still applies.)

The second step — planning ahead is a pipe dream. It means you might actually get a few things done, but it won’t be enough. You swept the floor? Whoops, do it again. Sent a box to Goodwill? Send another three! You filled your trash yesterday? Look at all this other junk you have to throw out. (You will learn, despite any effort you have made, you’ve still got too much crap.)

graph of throwing crap away

And start packing boxes. Then start packing in earnest. See all that stuff on the floor — it all has to go. Now. You discover you don’t know where to put your hair clips and random headbands because they didn’t fit into your scheme of boxes. Everything ends up traveling together (in questionable wrapping that may result in more than one glass breaking) because making ‘themed’ boxes by ‘type’ of item gets too complicated.

If you don’t have a time turner or aren’t a time lord, you’re going to run out of time. There will be at least one night where you’re scrubbing your kitchen, carpet, or bathroom at 1 am when you say to yourself (because no one is sane enough to help you), “I’m going to die of bleach inhalation. This is such an undignified way to go.”

When you leave a room — after declaring victory on scum, mold, and stains, you’ll sit down at your computer. It’ll be blissful to take a quick rest. When you go back to inspect your handy work, you will blanch in horror. You left a wine stain on the carpet; there’s a line of scum on the shower shelf. You forgot to scrub the wall around your trashcan. The only appropriate response: fuck it — grab the bleach, carpet cleaner, and bucket.

You will clean the floor more than once.

Even after you’re moved everything out and vacuumed up dust bunnies that look like tumbleweeds, it’s not over. You have to do the apartment walk through. You’re confident you’ve cleaned every spot — but you haven’t. You forgot the inside floor of your oven. Pro-tip: oven cleaner is another product you’ll need because you have to clean the oven. If your property manger is nice, you’ll get the chance to clean it up before he signs off on your apartment. If he’s not — whelp, say good-bye to more money.

Somewhere along the line, you lose the lists of what you need and what you don’t. Lists are for people who have plans. You’re being truly spontaneous now — whatever makes this move work is what you’re going to do. It’s an adventure designed for sadist germaphobes. You’re just unlucky enough to be playing their game. But at the same time, you’re moving — you’re onto something new. Something that might be better — but if not better, definitely novel.

So maybe you’re winning the game of moving. You picked bleach as your weapon. Your possessions might be reproducing while you sleep — but damn it, you’re going to win. Because in the Game of Life, you can most definitely roll a Yahtzee.

Basement Magic

I turned my basement into an apocalyptic talent show. The cause of the apocalypse was almost irrelevant — although I preferred natural disasters. The important part was that recovering from an apocalypse required putting on a mixed tape and dancing. Hence, I was very territorial of my reconfigured basement being that it was in the perfect atmospheric arrangement for end-of-the world dance-offs. The space was perfect, and I was definitely going to play this game all week, thank-you-very-much. All my favorite toys (from dinosaurs to Barbies, Disney dolls to action figures) got the invite to rebuild a (much more glamorous) society — with fun and dresses and music.

My grandma’s basement suffered a different fate — that of a roller rink in a magical fantasy world. There were werewolves prowling at the doors, but if you were in the bunker turned skating arena, you were safe. It was an extremely 90s pop influenced Fortress of Solitude. Once again, there was a pathological reliance on CDs, mixed tapes, and the radio (these are clearly what you need to survive in a harsh, barely settled fantasy land). The downside to this was there was always a tremendous number of spiders and silver fish in the basement, and these are way worse than dragons, orcs, or werewolves. Apparently those creepers still inhabit fantasy worlds.

In the real world, I’ve been in a tornado and don’t consider the damages of disasters to be funny in the slightest. But that’s what play-acting is — a cathartic way to deal with fear, shame, and guilt. In our age of Big Disasters, it’s not a huge shock that I play-acted those out. There’s something random and completely inevitable about natural disasters — there’s a lack of control. In fiction, you get that control back. It’s magic — it’s choose your own adventure. You get to pour whatever glitter-infused lotion you want onto the things that keep you up at night. Being separated from your family is no problem when you get adopted into a magic, fantasy bunker of disco-awesomeness. Your house is destroyed, but you can rebuild with Batman, Sailormoon, and their dinosaur friends.

But like all things, the literal days of Basement Magic came to an end. Basements are storage places, workshops, and game rooms now. But the macabre fantasies blended together with the touch of absurd (you really need mix tapes to survive) lives on. We all fear something (from silverfish and spiders to failure and death), and we crave community — a place to be safe from the wolves at the doors in our own heads. You always need someone there to help you pick up the pieces. And sometimes, that person is fictional — an idea instead of flesh and blood. And sometimes, that person is a phone call away, and when you don’t know the way back to the basement, they most certainly do.