Years ago, I was chatting with another writer about doing laundry. She and I were both staying at an artist residency that provided no onsite washing machines, and sending laundry out to a service was cost prohibitive for both of us. I had the ingenious idea that I’d start washing some of my clothes in the bathroom sink and letting them air dry in my room. It was economical, I told her, plus it offered the extra bonus of making me feel like Laura Ingalls Wilder!
“Even your underwear?” The other writer was incredulous. “In the sink?”
“Especially my underwear!” I told her, delighted.
There was an awkward pause. “Cool story,” she said, by which she meant, “Not a cool story.” Then, she promptly excused herself to go find someone else to chat with.
I think about that writer’s reaction every time I consider sharing some publishing news. I don’t ever want my excitement over publishing a piece (or worse, the published piece itself) to be met with the same “weird flex” response I got from her. Logically I know that publishing an essay (or a newsletter - hello new subscribers!) has more cachet than Woolite-ing my unmentionables under a spigot, but sometimes I need to remind myself. Especially when the essay I publish is about falling in love (okay, fine, lust) with the Bee Gees… and their copious chest hair.
Some of the most interesting things I’ve spent time with recently have included a weird flex or two. Here are some that come to mind:
1 - Rosemary Tonks’s author bio on the back of her novel THE HALT DURING THE CHASE contains, perhaps, the weirdest author flex a publicity team ever penned for a book jacket: “Tonks disappeared after a religious conversion, and having decided that her books were the work of the Devil, set about destroying any copies she could find.”
2 - Sinead O’Connor’s memoir REMEMBERINGS has some amazing celebrity flexes, including one that will never allow me to see Peter Gabriel the same way again.
3 - R.E.M. lyrics are at their best when they contain a multitude of the prettiest, swooniest weird flexes you’ve ever heard. Like this one on their album GREEN: “I can hang my hairshirt way up high in the attic of the wrong dog’s life chest.” See?
All of this is to say, I still stand by my decision to hand wash. Writers, you do you (even if it means bragging about how you drip dry.)
Want to read my essay about weird Bee Gees lyrics? You can find it at Porter House Review, linked here.
Looking for a weird writing prompt this week? Open your cupboard, choose a cereal, and write a story inspired by the box.
Have a weird flex? Drop it in the comments.
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