It’s Tuesday!
How are you? Last weekend, I subjected two audiences to my impression of Idina Menzel doing “Defying Gravity” with her lips and tongue glued to the wall, if that gives you any idea of how I, personally, am doing.
let’s discuss baseball (metaphorically)
In the beautiful sport of baseball, batters are ranked by RBIs, or Runs Batted In. It’s a handy little stat that credits a batter for making a play that allows their team to score a run. (If you hit a triple, allowing another runner to advance to home plate, that contributes to your RBI.) RBI is one way of gauging a batter’s effectiveness.*
*Other measures of batters’ effectiveness, as determined by me: cool catchphrase (“Okay, I’m gonna hit the ball now!”), great walk-up song, prominence of hog in see-through pants, etc.
Up until my book launch, I had a high RBI.
I sold the book. I wrote the book. I got a high-paying, full-time journalism job. I wrangled solid book publicity. I sold humor pieces and essays to prestigious outlets.
Then, the book came out in July 2023—and, amid the excitement, my RBI plunged into the shitter.
I got laid off from the aforementioned high-paying, full-time journalism job.
I returned to standup after a years-long hiatus, and the material wasn’t hitting.
I wrote new essays and set my sights on bigger, more prestigious outlets—and I couldn’t sell a thing.
I wrote a podcast proposal and genuinely had no clue what to do with it.
I tried my hand at fiction for the first time ever, and it was very, very hard.
Right now, statistically, I am a terrible batter. I am unworthy of the sexy sexy NSFW baseball pants. After a multi-year streak of home runs, I can’t nail a dinger to save my life. But it’s not that I’m a bad player—it’s that I’m making bigger swings.
lol okay sorry we can stop the metaphor
I know I can write a book of funny essays. I did it; I made money from it. But right now, I’m excited about other forms—forms that are new to me. Fiction, audio and traditional standup are all new terrain. Thus, I am currently sitting in the Bog of Being Bad at New Things.
I’ve been hitting Chicago mics (actual hell on earth) to re-learn how to hold a microphone, and my jokes aren’t where I want them to be. I’m better than I was six months ago, but it’s a slog.
I’m working on a novel, which feels exciting and fun—but the prose is objectively not good, and probably won’t be good for a while.
I’m blindly groping my way through the audio space, trying to figure out what to do with my podcast idea.
Being bad at new things is frustrating, especially after a period of success. A year ago, when someone asked about my work, I’d respond: “I’m gearing up for my debut book release!” Now, when someone asks what I’m working on, I mumble that I’m “trying something new.” There is no prestige!!!!! I am bereft of prestige!!!!!!!! I am in the bog!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I’m back to square one, and it will be a long time before I finish something—anything, really. I’m batting my little ass off, but I’m not hitting the ball, and I might not for a while.
this is not failure!
It is simply the nature of pushing oneself creatively, dreadful though it may be. ~*bog vibes*~
When you train for a marathon, you embark on countless shorter runs until you’ve reached your full potential as a runner. Those short runs aren’t failures—they’re practice.
oh my god I literally have to stop speaking in metaphor someone needs to call the police
Now, as I’m grinding it out to reach my creative potential, I am practicing. And practicing. And practicing. I’m getting booked on standup shows where 45-year-old men grill me about how long I’ve been performing. (LEAVE ME ALONE I AM HERE TO DO MY IDINA MENZEL IMPRESSION!!!) I’m sitting at my desk to plug away at a novel that may take me years. I’m allowing myself the space to be the new kid for as long as it takes.
If you, too, are in the bog, I’d love to hear about what you’re working on! Join me in the comments <3
and now for your weekly dose of treats:
Welcome to YEAH BABY YEAH, a weekly roundup of little treats to get you through your creative practice and/or stave off the darkness within.
This deep dive on Andrew Huberman’s personal life is so juicy. I knew that guy had problems!
Big Shirt For Spring (BSFS): Last week, I treated myself to a new Big Bud Press overshirt in a very spring-y baby blue. It’s the perfect topper for my preferred spring aesthetic, which is Big Shirt over Tiny Shirt.
Lolita the Alien is my Instagram dog of choice. She has the grumpiest face and is very small. I wish I could tuck her inside my BSFS and carry her around town.
bog lyfe,
Lil
I sat down at 9pm last night with that Huberman article and 9 Reddit threads queued up and ready to go...best night I've had in a while!!!!
hi, also, from a bog nearby.
I think there’s a very specific post-book bog that emerges the day after a book release?
I haven’t fact-checked this but have experienced it personally and anecdotally.
choosing to believe the bog can be, if not enjoyable, then illuminating in its own way!! wishing you good boggin’