What's Growing On
Cooperation, animation, and a giant pile of mulch. 🌱
I’m a Sesame Street kid, which means I learned about things like cooperation from imaginary nectarine eating space critters. I’m also a writer — and very introverted — which means I do a lot of stuff alone at the keyboard. Seeking collaboration doesn’t come naturally to me.
But I got it in my head that my pal Jamie of {Required Field} Productions would know exactly how to transform short clips from CANNED with his trademark animation style.
Oh. Look!
It was super fun to send ideas to Jamie and see what resonated. I was delighted with the results. Plus, I get to add “Collaborating on short animations” to the many cool things CANNED has given me and you get to experience a new way of looking at these stories. I hope to drop more of these in the CANNED feed — for as long as Jamie will indulge Team CANNED in making them.
[Jamie has a newsletter that he says is about tech and creativity, but I think it’s mostly about creativity. You might like it, check it out.]
I haven’t published anything for a while, so I’m psyched to share that I have an essay up about that time I got a terrifying amount of mulch delivered to my house.
[Heads up, it contains ladybug sex and eff bombs.]
I wrote that essay on a whim in response to a call for submissions to the How I Learned project where this lives. Sometimes there’s a catalyst, a tiny spark, a nudge, that unleashes something you’ve been meaning to make, like you’ve just been waiting for someone to say, “Don’t you have a story about a terrifying amount of mulch?”
That’s how I ended up with an entire memoir, when my friend Alex asked me, “Didn’t you tell me once you’d been to Sinai?”
The whimsical inspriation doesn’t mean a writer takes the work less seriously, only that oh, what a fickle weirdo the brain is, what she decides is The Muse is so different one day to the next.
I remain underemployed; I am walking dogs again to bring in some cash — and I did sign a regular tech column for a new client, it’s just not enough.
Please don’t worry about me, I’m generally fine, though I am wondering if I am actually retired. A nearby friend and I have discussed this, coining the phrase “Reluctantly Retired” to describe our state of being prematurely kicked out of the job market. “I don’t know, am I supposed to find a pickle ball game or something?” she asked, a question to which I do not have the answer.
I went to phone bank for KBCS - a local independent radio station I love - and rebooted my Rover account. I went to some storytelling events, those things where people stand up at a mic and tell a story about, I dunno, that one time they got a terrifying amount of mulch delivered.
I’ve been talking to the organizers of these things about doing a night based on stories about getting canned, of course, and every time they greet the idea with such enthusiasm. That’s nice to hear as I at work pitching a book about the same topic.
[I’m working up my nerve to do Bar Stories in October, see you there?]
My dream is that I will sell the book concept by Thanksgiving, spend the winter writing the book, and then, come spring, the logjam of this job market will break free. That or my book will be such a splash that I no longer need a Day Job, it will be talk show desks* and NPR interviews* and the random corporate workshop where they bring me in as entertainment. That’s why I need to be able to stand up and tell a good story, right?
*Assuming those still exist in any form given, ya know, the fascism.
In the meantime, I am pruning the lavender, planting winter greens, recording people’s stories about getting canned from their jobs… I would like to see more income but go figure, my days are good.
I still have a handful of pledge drive stickers. Venmo [$3 US residents/$5 overseas] I’ll mail you one. Or, you know, any amount over that is cool too.
There’s more stuff coming to Canned Goods; I’ll be back to let you know when the t-shirt designs are done. See above under collaboration — a graphic arts friend is working through some concepts I threw her way.
I like hearing back from you, so in addition to forwarding this newsletter to someone who needs a visit from a fellow creative weirdo who isn’t sure where they’re going but is trying out a lot of things, drop me a line and let me know what you’re making, reading, listening to. Art should be shared.
In a time when it feels like everything wants to crush the creative energy right out of us, let’s be twice as weird.
//Pam