What I’ve Learned this Year (Caturday)

Big Cat, Little Cat: Happy Anniversary

What I’ve Learned about… Learning

If you try things, you’ll learn things. That’s the essence of what I’ve learned from running the 2 Rules of Writing website this year. I guess it’s the positive version of “fuck around and find out.” It’s also what I went into the project already knowing. Redundant, right? What I mean is that trying new things is always a surprise. And, when you’re starting out a new project, you never know how little prepared you will be for that project, nor how much you will learn in the course of it.

But there were two unknowns. One was what, or perhaps how much, I would learn. (Is that one unknown? Or one-and-a-half?) The other was what I would learn from others. I know other people less well than I know myself, so I had more to learn from them, and less of an idea of what I would learn.

I’ve watched Erika overcome her natural reticence and her half-dozen chronic illnesses to stake claim to her territory as a writer. I’ve watched Wen and Erik struggle to express themselves as they balance teaching, writing, research, and family; one through poetry, the other through song. Watched Josi find her essayistic voice, combining elements of the personal and journalistic in her search for justice in education. And I’ve watched John write a damn novel. And that’s not counting all of the other amazing writers who have contributed one or two pieces to our pages.

What I’ve Learned about… Reciprocity

Watching my colleagues strive and succeed gives me the strength to finish that story I’ve put aside. Or to send that story I’m 99% sure of (but not 100%) to a literary magazine. Their example makes me a better writer and a better person.

I would like to take this idea to the next level. I know that my friends inspire me. And I know that, when I feel low and unmotivated, thinking of their accomplishments puts a smile on my face and helps me make the right decision. Whether that is to press on a bit longer or to take a break and avoid burnout. But I have trouble thinking of myself as having accomplishments. I have trouble thinking of myself being a light for others the way they are so obviously and irrefutably a light for me. Something to work on, perhaps.

The 2 Rules

I don’t talk about it in every article, but the 2 Rules are as follows:

1. You must make mistakes.
2. You must finish… something.

There’s a lot of leeway in those two little rules, which is the point. It’s the briefest way I found to encapsulate the idea that creative endeavor relies on the willingness to try new things and the willingness to see something through to the end.

If you try new things, you’ll eventually create something new. And you’ll learn something in the process. But if you never finish a project, trying new things can itself become a way to hide from the difficulty and anxiety of creation. Really there should be a third rule that says: follow these rules in good faith, to the best of your ability. But that rule doesn’t make sense. Because if you’re not already following the rules in good faith then you wouldn’t follow in good faith a rule that says “follow the rules in good faith.” Make sense?

What I’ve Learned about… Teamwork

For a long time, I was ashamed of my ADHD. I still don’t especially like talking about it. I would have trouble completing tasks that were simple for other people (naturally). But I would also have trouble asking for help. That’s an impossible situation.

Ask just about anyone with ADHD; no, ask just about anyone and they’ll tell you that there are things they have trouble doing. Things that most people find easy or at least doable and they just… fall short. But we’re too individualistic in the United States. The idea that I need to manage every part of my life successfully–from planning to working to cooking to taxes–with no help from anyone else is as absurd as the idea of a small medieval family making their own barrels and thatching their own barn and firing their own pottery and–. You need other people in your life to do the things you cannot. What has been especially fortuitous about this collaboration is that Erika and I both have ADHD, but in different ways. We’re each able to pick up some of the things the other does not.

What I’ve Learned about… Accomplishment

If you ask me what I’m proudest of this year, I can list some tangible accomplishments. Things I hadn’t done before. Running (or rather co-running) a website. Being accepted for publication in not one but two magazines: a literary journal and a psychiatric journal. Which sounds like the premise for a joke. “Yo, you so crazy you’d submit your short stories to Cimmarron Review but they’d get published by the Academy Forum of the American Academy of Psychodynamic and Psychoanalytic Psychiatry!”
“Oh yeah? Well you’re a–…”
I know. My playground banter has gotten rusty these past couple decades. But you get the idea.

But neither of the 2 Rules is: “Achieve tangible physical accomplishments.” So ultimately it’s the intangibles I’m proud of. The ways I kept going when things got rough.

And Finally, What I’ve learned about… Forcing a Segue to my Concluding Thoughts

Which is why the main thing I’m proud of this year is that I was able to put my pride where it belongs and ask for help on a number of issues. Like: I’m having trouble pulling the trigger on sending this poem to a literary magazine. Or: Can you take care of the editing on this article? Or: Can you build the author-bio-box for this new author? Simple as that. Things I could do. But I just wasn’t going to. Leastwise not left to my own devices. And I was equally available to such requests from Erika. And from our other collaborators, as well.

Thank you to all of our readers and writers. I look forward to another year of learning and growth for all of us. And to everyone who has been reading here and there but has yet to introduce themselves, please stop by the Facebook page and say hello.

Description of Big Cat, Little Cat: Happy Anniversary

Four identical images sit side by side. In each, a photo of two cats, one large and orange with darker orange stripes, the other small and grey with darker grey stripes. The large orange looks down on the small grey with quiet affection. The small grey does not return his friend’s gaze but looks out of the frame, burdened with inexpressible weltschmerz.

Panel 1

Big Cat: Little Cat, did you year? Human-Mom’s website turned one year old!
Little Cat: We should get her something.

Panel 2

Big Cat: Like what?
Little Cat: A dead bird.

Panel 3

Big Cat: No! This has to be something special.
Little Cat: …

Panel 4

Big Cat: C’mon think! Something she’ll appreciate and cherish!
Little Cat: Two dead birds?