Happy February! I say this because 1) January was decidedly not “happy,” but I’m an eternal optimist, and 2) irony = humor. Is February happy, ever? Maybe for the newly-in-love types who get excited by Valentine’s Day, or for my Dad (happy early birthday, Dad!), but I think most of us would be happy to be done with February. Always one of the worst months for weather, this year, it’s been a terrible month for the political climate as well (ba-dum-bum).
Need a laugh, as well as some surprising insight into February? Watch Kevin Killeen’s take, below. (h/t Austin Kleon)
“Something great happened here, but it’s over with.”
But enough about February! Back in the before-times, pre-January 20 (remember those halcyon days?), I attended my third residency at Bennington. For those counting, I have two full terms (and two residencies) left in my program, until I graduate with my MFA in January 2026.
If there were a unifying theme among the lectures, seminars, and workshops, it would be the importance of play. For writers, this means to experiment- with form, voice, perspective, structure, time jumps, really whatever your heart desires. Maybe you normally write realistic fiction (ahem, guilty). Why not throw in a magical element, or write a story set in outer space, or in 2125? Maybe you always write chronologically. Mix it up, pull a Memento or an Everything Everywhere All at Once.
We were also encouraged to think back on what we enjoyed doing as young people, particularly in the realm of arts and crafts. And then do that. Rediscover that joy. Maybe it was calligraphy, or knitting, or playing folk songs on the acoustic guitar, or putting together photo albums (yes, okay, I’m describing myself). What if we make time for play? Especially play that doesn’t have a goal, in an area where we don’t pretend to be an expert and we don’t even care. I will never be an amazing guitarist or calligrapher, and that’s okay.
Of course, we can also play at things other than arts & crafts. In my household, that might mean tennis, MarioKart, Ticket to Ride. We’ve been playing one round of That Escalated Quickly at dinner most nights, which turns out to be a better conversation starter than my standard, “So, how was everyone’s day?”
So, for February (and for a more enjoyable 2025), I encourage us all to play more. Because most of us can’t do anything about the omnishambles that is Washington.1
And on that note, enjoy this exquisite Mary Oliver poem on this very topic.
I Worried
I worried a lot. Will the garden grow, will the rivers flow in the right direction, will the earth turn as it was taught, and if not how shall I correct it? Was I right, was I wrong, will I be forgiven, can I do better? Will I ever be able to sing, even the sparrows can do it and I am, well, hopeless. Is my eyesight fading or am I just imagining it, am I going to get rheumatism, lockjaw, dementia? Finally, I saw that worrying had come to nothing. And gave it up. And took my old body and went out into the morning, and sang. -Mary Oliver
Reading Recommendations
I’m mixing things up in this newsletter; instead of recommending books, I want to send you to a few short stories that I adore.
“So Late in the Day” by Claire Keegan. Brilliant, brilliant, brilliant. You’re probably sick of hearing me talk about her, right? This link brings you to the written text *and* an audio version of the author reading the story out loud. I recommend both. If you’re not a New Yorker subscriber, I think you get one free article a month? And if you’ve already used your free article, try opening an incognito browser to paste the link, and NO you didn’t hear that from me.
“Good Country People” by Flannery O’Connor. I just read her collection A Good Man Is Hard to Find for the first time and I hadn’t expected just how funny I’d find her stories. This one was my favorite. I’m not going to link to it because it’s under copyright, so you can buy or borrow the story collection or do some Google sleuthing to find a PDF version of the story but again, you didn’t hear that from me.
“Lobster” by Rachel Reeder. This flash fiction will take you 3 minutes to read. This story has stayed with me ever since I first read it several years ago. I find it so moving.
Your Turn!
How will you play your way through February and/or 2025? And, as always, please comment with any fantastic books, stories, or poems you’ve read recently (or memes, jokes, videos, podcasts, all recommendations welcome). Thanks for being here, and I’ll see you again in the spring.
Except for the obvious strategies: call/write your congressperson, support morally sound and qualified candidates for office, and VOTE.
OK, Jill, you've convinced me to read Claire Keegan. Which of her books should be my first read?
Phil
Thank you for the play reminder! Also! So Late in the Day is such a good story. To my mind, it's an example of what I think of as Keegan's more cold-hearted, William Trevorish side.