Regrets, I've Had a Few
If I could turn back time....
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Regrets, I’ve Had A Few
My friend Anna possesses a magnetism that ensorcells everyone, but especially women. Literally every lady who meets her falls in love with her. I attribute this to the fact that she has a self-possession (not to mention cheekbones you could sharpen knives on) that transcends confidence and looks something more like freedom. That quality is so rare, in anyone, particularly in women, that to be in that energy is like a drug. GIMME A HIT! The day after she attended my Christmas a half dozen of my female friends texted me asking who is Anna, what is her deal, how do they become her friend. She could and probably should start a cult. This week, I recommend to you, Anna.
Esoteric! Look, if I could sell her magic I’d be a zillionaire and I’d quit the typey typey. Instead I recommend to you an idea Anna shared recently.
She is a great appreciator of beauty and it is literally her job, so I knew that when I had a Tabboo-like quandary to pose around a mid-century American artist, she’d be able to name names. The clues I dispensed: wallpaper designer, show at the old Whitney 10+ years ago.
Less than a second later: Charles Burchfield.
And even better than the elusive name I so sought, she offered his advice: “Before starting work go through all the former material. Many things of vital importance have been lost sight of.”
TRUER WORDS! So, in that spirit, I got to thinking back over my pile of discarded ideas to see if there lies any nugget of even moderate importance. Former material is typically former for a reason. I’ve dodged some bullets in terms of topics I once yearned to write about which didn’t go anywhere, namely an essay about gay men and straight women which would not have aged well, given that I wanted to title it with a certain pet name, one that rhymes with mag pag. Cancel me not!
I have about a zillion regrets in my career, namely that I chose this as my “career.” I possess zero other skills. I recently visited the studio of Katie Lincoln, an artist and craftswoman who will dip your children’s baby teeth in gold for you to wear around your neck like an actual witch, and was struck by the fact that she make things, beautiful things, all day long, with her very hands. And come doomsday, she will have a valuable skill to offer the community—metallurgy. I, on the other hand, will be milling around the scorched earth as survivors make shelter out of plastic bags and forage for worms asking if anyone would like a profile written about them.
But beyond the thing itself my biggest writing regret yet is not doing an idea Jean gave me for an article a few years back. It was late 2019, pre-pandemic and postpartum. I was 36, and the age limit to join the FBI as a new officer is 37, which I would be turning in a few months. So the idea was to 1. Attempt to join the FBI with my sordid history and limited physical capacities and 2. To train for the physical fitness test as a means to losing baby weight, like a literal mommy bootcamp. And write the experience as an article, naturally. Can you imagine the IP possibilities?! FBI MILF?! My Mom Burps Me and Does Burpees?! Zero to SHERO?! The endeavor could have also been a vehicle for my physical comedic stylings, a part of my repertoire that has heretofore been woefully underexploited.
I didn’t end up doing it because like everyone we had zero childcare during the pandemic and I had to finish revisions on a book that was at that point two years overdue, a book that took so long to complete I wrote A WHOLE ASS OTHER BOOK in the interim. The book that snatched my chances of becoming a FBI agent has gone on to sell approximately four copies (a fact which publishers love to remind me of), probably to people reading this newsletter right now.
So if a genie were to grant me three wishes, first I ask would to hear Bonnie tell me the story of her life, in her own words. Then I’d wish to be a callow 36 again and to join the FBI to WRITE ABOUT IT. I’d have a rockin’ bod, an actual career path with benefits, etc, and maybe could’ve put some Jan 6 chodes behind bars.
Since I’m now a million and tired I will never be able to heave myself around a track in front of my opponents who are 15 years younger and recently left the military, I’ll write about it here and let you imagine the possibilities. But like most things, imagining is probably better anyway.
Might I also recommend:
Girls Write Now: One thing I will never ever regret is the decision to mentor for Girls Write Now! Apply to be a mentor for the 2023-2024 academic year! Here’s my mentee Mei, who writes speculative fiction and personal essay and will be the first person in her family to attend college in the fall.
This Fresh Air episode with Alex Auder. Cannot WAIT to read her wild memoir.
Dancing Queens God I love this show! I stan Donie. Fun fact: my hairdresser Igor used to be a pro and in my next appointment I am going to get to the bottom of why these guys are all Russian. Does the Bolshoi now teach cha cha? Stay tuned.
Now Is Not the Time to Panic by Kevin Wilson: See I do read fiction by straight white men I do not personally know, but only if they happen to be Kevin Wilson. What a big, tenderhearted writer Wilson is.
This article on my OG baby mama Janet Malcolm. It’s really weird to me that no one has commissioned me to write a kind of idiot’s guide to JM, as chief idiot. Have your people contact mine!
This self tanner which my sister recommended which is making our transluscent legs slightly less so.
Fat Ham: You’ve heard about it from the Pulitzer committee, you’ve heard about it from the Tonys, but now hear it from ME! This play is good!