Notebook 2

Writing challenges, gatherings ideas, music, and more

NYCMidnight | Challenge

For Christmas Lana signed me up for a fiction writing contest. 

Our early days of friendship and then dating involved a lot of creative writing. More than once as college students, we got together with others and—just for fun—read aloud short stories we’d written. From 2000 to 2003, I wrote a lot of fiction: for pleasure and in class.

But since getting married, I haven’t completed a single story. I don’t think Lana has written much fiction either. Certainly we have written a great deal, filled many journals, communicated a lot in writing: so many words—but no fiction.

Her gift to me aligned with one of my goals for this year: write. Though she didn’t know that at the time.

The writing contest—the organizers call it a “challenge”—has a twist. Each of the 6,000-plus participants is randomly placed in a group with thirty others and each group is assigned a genre, character, and subject. The story must be built around those parameters. Maximum length is 2,500 words. Once the assignments are revealed, writers have just eight days to turn in their finished work.

Lana agreed to also sign up. More fun together. We got our assignments two weeks ago.

My genre? Fairy tale. Which didn’t thrill me. 

“I’ve never written a fairy tale,” I complained. Then Lana pointed out that I’ve told dozens of made-up bedtime fairy tales to our youngest daughter. There was the many-part “Water Princess” series—featuring the water princess sisters, Prince Mike, the Adventure Queen, King Charming, and the recurring villain Rupert von Slasher. And more recently the Sailor series and her cadre of talking animals. 

Still, it didn’t come easy.

For the first three days, I struggled. There were plenty of false starts, dead-end ideas, and lots of frustration and self-doubt. Seventy-two hours into the process and I hadn’t written anything that I would keep. The artistic process. With some extra heat! Maybe it always has extra heat. 

Ultimately I recognized that I couldn’t write as I had written fiction in the past: as a journey of discovery. I needed to outline the story. Even if I did not follow the outline completely (I didn’t), it would at least form the necessary framework to get launched. That shift in my approach to creative writing will serve me well in the future. 

Parts of my experience were a case study in not writing. Watching movies is typically not my evening entertainment go-to. But suddenly I wanted to watch movies. Instead of writing, I leapt at the chance to do the dishes. There was a lot of friction. Supposed to be writing my story? My impulse was to write an essay or catch up on email instead. Anything other than working on my story. 

Eventually I put on my work boots (figuratively) and got to it. 

“I write only when inspiration strikes. Fortunately it strikes every morning at nine o’clock sharp.”

—W. Somerset Maugham¹

We finished our stories and submitted them Saturday evening with minutes to spare. Hers was terrific (genre: thriller). I ended up having a lot of fun with my fairy tale. 

Thank you, Lana! That was a joyful, aspirational gift. Loved doing it with you. 

Typos | Learning

There were so many typos in the Notebook 1 post that I sent out a few weeks ago. Which I thought was weird—since I ran it through a couple AI proofreading tools beforehand. That’s what I get for not doing a final line-by-line review before hitting send.

Gatherings | Idea Workshop

So many of my ideas involve people, community-building, events, and gatherings. Things that foster connection, build bridges, and bind us together. 

Here are two of them. Dislike or like in the comments.

Escalator Day

Photo by Omar Prestwich

A month ago I took my daughters to REI. Next to the store is a long outdoor escalator. A moving staircase. My seven-year-old had asked several times beforehand if we could ride the escalator. So we headed to it after the store. We climbed on, turning to enjoy the view as we floated upward. When we reached the top, we pivoted and rode back down. Then I said: “Let’s do it again.” And then a third time. We laughed. It was completely unnecessary and totally fun.

Idea: Escalator Day. Gather a group of friends and ride escalators. Find some good ones. It’s an excuse to do something together. Make sure to also hit a favorite store, grab coffee, have lunch, maybe a picnic, and—if taking multiple vehicles—to rotate seating after each stop. A shared playlist seems essential. 

Who’s in?

Monologue Night.

Here’s the set up: a dinner party for six or so friends. Afterward, each guest gets five unbroken minutes to talk about the topic of their choice. A monologue with absolutely zero apology. About anything. The floor is yours! Then a few minutes to take questions. Next speaker. 

Seriously, how fun would this be? It’s a chance to share a passion, describe a hobby, to pontificate about anything with a built-in audience. Also an opportunity to hold space for the voices of others and get catch glimpses of their rich inner lives.

I’m going to have a hard time picking what to go on and on about. We may need to do this on a recurring basis. 

I definitely want to hear from you.

Pressure Machine | Song

In 2023, due to extenuating circumstances, The Killers moved into listen position number one² for me. Their sound is much more than the pumping alt-rock from their biggest hits like “Mr. Brightside” and “All These Things That I’ve Done.” Those are just scratching the surface. Their catalogue is deep and diverse. Love songs. Ballads. Rock anthems. Dance-to-it music. Lullabies. 

From the song “Pressure Machine,” here are a couple verses, then the full track via Youtube.

A mattress on a hardwood floor—
Who could ever ask for more?
I’ll get up and cut the grass
Ain’t nothing wrong with working class

And I can’t listen to this bit without hearing echoes of John Prime (RIP): 

We’ve had that treadmill now for months
I think she might have used it once
If I shut my mouth and keep the peace
She’ll cook my eggs in bacon grease

And there’s also this beautiful fan-made music video. Worth the extra minute.

Elijah | Farewell

Elijah Kelly, who wrote for Speak Up, passed away in mid-December. He was 71.

The final word I have from him actually came much earlier: a hopeful, forward-looking essay about how he shifted his mindset and overcame homelessness.

Reflecting on The Crash

Elijah — may your memory be a blessing. 

Thank you for reading.

1. W. Somerset Maugham may have said this before anyone else. Versions of it have also been attributed to Herman Wouk, William Faulkner, Raymond Chandler, and others.

2. There’s tough competition for this top slot. I recently remembered that The Beatles exist. Wow—prodigious.