Write What You Know. Or Not.

A lecture on memoirs that I attended with some friends was cancelled about half way through because of a health emergency in the audience. While we were waiting for a decision on whether the event would continue, we chatted about what we’re writing. One friend is penning memoirs about his family members. The other is working on fiction based on her recently deceased dog. I continue to write essays in my signature style: self-deprecating social satire.

I said I didn’t think I could do fiction, that I wouldn’t be good at it. The memoir friend said he thought I should give it a try. At about that point, the organizers postponed the lecture, to be rescheduled at some date to be determined, and our little group disbanded.

Since then, I’ve given some thought to writing fiction. We’ve all heard the advice: “Write what you know.” As a marketer, I would add to that: “Write what people want to read.” Note that I did not say: “Write what people will buy.” I’m in the camp that believes that if you’re writing to sell your work or to get on the morning talk shows, you’re writing for the wrong reasons.

With that in mind, I wondered what readers are interested in this year. To that end, I looked at the latest issue of Publishers Weekly. Because my husband carries some books in his store, he receives PW, and he brings it home for me to read. The April 21 issue has a section on self-publishing (my method of getting into print), and “the thriving romance and erotica categories” in particular. Oh, my.

If writing what I know that is now a hot button (pardon the pun) means romance and erotica, I’m in big trouble. To be sure, I have plenty to draw upon in that genre from my (misspent) youth. But I wouldn’t want anyone who came into my life from my mid-thirties onward to read “fiction” based on my salad days.

To further that analogy, we’re not talking iceberg lettuce and those uniform hothouse tomatoes that come end-to-end in a plastic tray. My bowl would have the most colorful and diverse maché imaginable. And a mixture of beefsteaks, Italian plums and those little grape tomatoes that scoot off the plate when you try to put your fork into them. Oh, and at least one Mr. Stripey.

It would also have English cucumbers (not your standard garden ones), several types and colors of radishes and a wide variety of olives. You’d probably find at least one carrot (peeled, with the ends trimmed, but not sliced…) Are you beginning to get the picture?

This puts me in mind of an exchange I had years ago with a close female friend back when I worked in Manhattan. We had both (separately) seen the porn movie The Devil in Miss Jones. Excuse me. I meant to say, the art film. “I bet you’ll never eat a banana again,” I joked. “Bananas, yes,” she replied. “Grapes, no.”

Those of you hoping this post continues to go downhill will be disappointed. I’m not ready to share the salient details of those years. That will require a skilled therapist to draw out the deeply-suppressed memories from my subconscious. I’ll also need to come up with an appropriate pseudonym under which to publish that genre of fiction.

I’ll pass on the first names Johanna, Marilyn and Georgina. And I certainly won’t take the last name Green or Grey. I suppose my pen name should be something arcane or provocative. Maybe Balsam Gardner. That would be a head nod to my salad days and to the vinegar I prefer. Or perhaps Saucy Salsa. That provides some colorful double entendres to chew on.

If you find a novel in the erotica section by an author who sounds like she’s been tossed around in a well-oiled wooden bowl, it might be my first attempt at undercover fiction (again, pardon the pun). Note the operative word “fiction.” One thing’s for certain. It won’t be titled: The Story of E.

Spices of Retirement

Occasionally I’ll read or hear an article on planning your meals so that they satisfy all five of your different taste buds. If you miss any of them, you’ll walk away from the dinner table with cravings for the missing one. We’re talking about sweet, sour, salty, bitter and umami (savory). If this last one is not familiar to you, think cheese or ripe tomatoes, and read up on Monosodium Glutamate (MSG).

It’s not unusual for me to walk away from meals craving more. I’m not convinced it has anything to do with the five basic tastes. The diet my sister talked me into last June has me keeping a food journal, so I know exactly what I’ve consumed and what buds have been palpitated. After about ten months, I think I know what drives me and many other seniors to forage in the pantry and the refrigerator late at night. And in the middle of the afternoon. And sometimes even mid-morning.

When you reach retirement, you have an entirely different set of tastes to be satisfied from your culinary cupboard. It’s important to address them all, or you’ll spend your golden years feeling deprived, depressed, anxious and confused. You may spend those years that way anyway, but understanding the Spices of Retirement will make this less likely.

Family Flavor. This is the most important spice in the retirement rack. It doesn’t matter if you come from a small family or a large one; or if any members live near you vs. all being far away. A meal that includes Family Flavor fills the need to feel part of a clan, to be connected to loved ones on your family tree. And even to those with whom you’ve had a long-standing feud. Once we reach retirement, savoring the feuds can be as fulfilling as feeling the love.

Holiday Memories. Sprinkle this one on anything on your plate, and you are instantly transported back to the most wonderful times from your youth. Holiday Memories have the flavor of every meal that was prepared with extra love. It’s rich in tradition. It’s also high in calories, but who cares?

Pinch of Frugality. Even retirees on a fixed budget will splurge on a fabulous meal now and then. To help you forget about how much the meal costs, be sure to have a Pinch of Frugality on your entree. As an added benefit, Frugality has a negative impact on calories. So, if your dessert is a calorific treat, a Pinch of Frugality on that will make it taste even sweeter.

Binge Fusion. Yes, we’re older, and we’re told to watch what and how much we eat. Our GPs discourage us from binging. But that doesn’t mean we can’t have the gustatory equivalent of a binge realized via our meals or snacks. A handful of Binge Fusion will taste like any number of items that you can’t eat just one of. It comes in several varieties. Pick your guilty pleasure, or lard up the pantry with several different packets of this retirement spice.

Alcohol Aspirations. Once we reach a certain age, we’re also told to cut back on alcohol. Don’t they realize that the older we are, the more a glass of fine wine transports us to places that can make us smile, lower our blood pressure and blot out the stressful world around us? No problem. A few drops of Alcohol Aspirations in your filtered water can give you the same result. It’s not as satisfying as an actual glass of wine (what is?), but it has its advantages. Just give me a few weeks to figure out what they are.

Titch of Tranquility. No retiree’s meal is complete without a Titch of Tranquility. It helps us leave the table feeling peaceful, refreshed and ready for a good nap. A small dose of Tranquility will also lower your blood pressure almost as much as a spritz of Alcohol Aspirations.

Chocolate. Period. Enough said.

There you have it. The seven essential Spices of Retirement. A meal that includes all of them is guaranteed to be as satisfying as one that tickles the five traditional taste buds. When the media finally picks up on this, remember: you read it here first.

Are You Still (Fill in the Blank)

I ran into an acquaintance (a fellow retiree) I hadn’t seen in awhile and she asked me: “Are you still writing?” Looking back, I realize that I’ve finally “made it” as a writer when people ask if I’m still doing it. One of the books I asked Santa to bring me was Still Writing, by Dani Shapiro. I asked for several of them on the writing process, but I found Still Writing to be the most helpful.

Shapiro’s title comes from the fact that folks tend not to take writing seriously as a career. They think of it as something one does in one’s spare time, or that it’s a sort of affliction. The question presumes there’s a chance you might have gotten over it since the last time they saw you. Or given up, since you weren’t likely to be good enough to get published. They don’t understand that writers just have to write.

The more I thought about this, the more I realized that this is the situation for a lot of retirees, as well. People assume that something you take up in retirement automatically falls into the hobby category. It doesn’t occur to them that it might be a second act for you. They’ll ask you questions they would never pose to someone in his forties or fifties.

A college classmate in Canada took up clarinet late in life. In her retirement, she plays in several local bands. At our last reunion, she went home a day early so she could participate in the first concert of the spring series. She added tenor saxophone to her repertoire so she could join the jazz group. Her Facebook page is filled with posts about upcoming gigs and performances that were well received. Her music is more than simply a way to while away free time. It’s life affirming for her.

Maybe you’ll decide to study a foreign language. Do that when you’re forty-something, and your friends won’t consider saying: “Are you still trying to learn Mandarin?” But once you’ve become a senior citizen, they’ll assume you’ll dabble for a few lessons and move on to something less challenging. Just ignore them. Leave a few copies of the Guangzhou Daily on your cocktail table the next time they drop by for coffee. Then mention you’re now also studying Cantonese.

Another of my college classmates is taking advantage of time freed up after she stopped working full time to become a Master Gardener. The qualification process is demanding and complex. She plans to volunteer as a guide and lecturer at the United States Botanic Garden once she has her credentials. That’s not exactly piddling away her free time. So if you run into her, don’t ask: “Are you still working on identifying those weeds you’re pulling out of your flower bed?”

It’s not unusual for a man to use his retirement to launch a woodworking business. Carpentry might have been a hobby when he was employed elsewhere. Now his workshop is not just his haven but also a source of discretionary income. And then some. “Are you still making those rocking horses for your grandkids?” Yup. For his grandkids, and those of dozens of other grandparents. You can put your name on the waiting list—for delivery next year. He’s about to leave on a month-long trip to Bali.

Speaking of travel, another college friend and his wife have finally retired so they can start a tour business. They own a home in Provence and they’re specializing in tours of the Secret Provence. I can see a lot of tax advantages in this, since it’s well beyond the hobby stage. What I can’t see is someone asking them: “Are you still doing that tour thingy?”

Retired presidents almost always move on to another career. George H. W. Bush has become internationally recognized as a senior statesman. Bill Clinton is now thought of as a philanthropist instead of a philanderer. Bush the younger (“Dubya”) recently had a showing of his paintings of famous people. He’s taking art classes and seems serious about making this his post-presidential act. He also seems to have enough talent that I doubt anyone will dare ask him in five years: “Are you still painting?”

From now on, when I run into someone who says: “Are you still writing?” I plan to smile and answer yes. Then I’ll add, ever so sweetly: “Are you still reading?” and hand them a business card with the URL for my blog and the titles of all the books I’ve published.

Improving Mental Health

Two posts that appeared on Facebook dealt with improving one’s mental health. Since I love cashews and I used to knit, I’d consider using both of these to improve my mental well-being. But first I’d need to research the reports touting them, to evaluate the science.

The first article, from www.naturalcuresnotmedicine.com, claims that cashews are a natural antidepressant. This is good news for proponents of the holistic approach (and my life is full of them). Dave Sommers is cited for this quote: “Two handfuls of cashews is [sic] the therapeutic equivalent of a prescription dose of Prozac.” He maintains that the L-tryptophan in cashews is converted to niacin and serotonin to reduce anxiety.

Best I can tell, this is true, so Eli Lilly must have staff looking to discredit it. I can picture some of the headlines: “Cashews breed rare worm that burrows into your intestines.” Or: “Fatty oils in cashews cause blockage of arteries; lead to increased risk of stroke.” Maybe Lilly doesn’t care, since generic Prozac (fluoxetine) has now been approved by the FDA. Let those suppliers panic over cashew encroachment.

In any case, we now have this terrific alternative to prescription drugs to provide positive mind-altering benefits. And we don’t have to smoke it to get them. Not only do I plan to eat more cashews (I had cut down on them because of my diet), I also plan to market my own brand. I’ll call it Mellow Yellow.

The second article puts forth the notion that “knitting is healthy for your brain”. The site Jezebel.com tells us several studies support this assertion, and that not just knitting, but any crafting provides these benefits. The specifics are so, well… specific, that I’m compelled to quote the full claim. Knitting “serves as a natural anti-depressant, helps ease anxiety and stress, can protect your brain from aging and has the [same] effects as meditation.”

This news was so energizing that it sent me straight to my basement storage room looking for my knitting needles that were packed away when we staged the house for sale. No luck with that, but they’ll show up eventually.

Jezebel.com cites a CNN series “Inside Your Brain” that credits knitting with treating PTSD, saying it “dampens internal chaos.” I can’t tell you how many times I’ve lamented: “I sure wish I had a way to dampen this internal chaos today.” Claremont University Professor of Psychology Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi attributes this to something he refers to as “flow,” which he calls “the secret to happiness.” CNN says he has decades of research to support this.

The Claremont website describes the avuncular MC (as I prefer to call him) as “the founder and co-director of the Quality of Life Research Center. The QLRC is a non-profit research institute that studies ‘positive psychology’; that is, human strengths such as optimism, creativity, intrinsic motivation…” Plus he’s a member of the National Academy of Leisure Studies. Who knew there even was such an academy? I’m now sufficiently impressed.

In a 2004 TED talk, MC said your existence outside a creative activity, such as knitting, becomes “temporarily suspended” and your sense of your body disappears. I don’t know about you, but there are plenty of days when I wish my sense of my body would disappear. I’ll knit one of those Snuggler body blankets if that will make it happen. Note to self: buy knitting needles if they don’t show up soon.

Jezebel.com also cites a study published in the British Journal of Occupational Therapy that bolsters the CNN story and MC’s findings. The study sounds credible, especially since the survey had over 3,500 respondents. Except that it was conducted online through an Internet knitting site. For all we know, 3,000 of those “knitters” were using their prison library to participate. Or 100 bored widows took the survey 35 times each.

Respondents said they knit for relaxation and stress relief; they also praised knitting in a group. (The prison library doesn’t sound that far fetched now, does it?) The study thus concluded that: “Knitting has significant psychological and social benefits, which can contribute to wellbeing and quality of life.” It seems to me that if you’re in for life, it doesn’t take much to improve its quality. Ditto for bored widows.

So the Brits leave me skeptical, but Professor MC seems credible. They don’t let just anybody give a TED talk, you know. I have a vision of myself, nestled in the corner of our sunroom, humming Donovan tunes and knitting argyle socks by the basketful. I’m shoving fistfuls of cashews into my pie hole and I’m as happy as that proverbial clam. I’ll call you when your socks are ready. In the meantime, be on the lookout for my Mellow Yellow. No prescription needed.