__________________________________
I’m Swearing as Fast as I Can (working title)
By Stephanie Kemp
I’m Swearing as Fast as I Can (working title)
By Stephanie Kemp
(Painting by Olivia Bluming, courtesy of the Heather Corbally Bryant collection)
When you tell someone you are a writer, they say (if you are lucky, and I am):
Oh my God! You would be such a great writer!
Wow. Really? I thought you were a…….(fill in the blank).
I can’t wait to read your book!
(Do you have a book?)
What is it about?
I bet it is hilarious!
Is it sad? (How are you doing, by the way?)
Is it a real book?
Are people going to get mad at you?
I always wanted to write, but……..(fill in the blank).
You should write about that time you………(fill in the blank)!
You should write about your…..(fill in the blank).
You could totally be a writer!
Good for you! I tell my daughter she can do whatever she wants to, but she still has to have a day job!
Wait….Did you even study writing?
This is why I rarely tell anyone that I am a writer.
The next level of telling someone you are a writer is when you tell it to people who are also writers:
Fiction or memoir?
Do you want to publish?
And then (if the answer is yes):
Do you have a proposal?
What is the container?
This last one is the one that always stops me cold.
The effing “container” ruins everything (for this writer).
If you are writing any kind of book, the container is the unique structure that you hang your words on (and/or the time based bookends you use to contain them).
For example(s):
Memoir (Growing Fierce Together: The Year my Kitten became a Cat)
Personal Essays (The Loan Out: Stories of a nice, normal Michigander working and living in mostly batshit but used to sometimes be awesome Hollywood)
A Life in Letters (Sent but Never Answered, or Answered after Being Sent to the Wrong Person)
Self-Help (How to Know When to Stay in Bed Forever or “Get Up and Get Going!”)
Pandemic Poetry (”Send me a picture, I’ll write you a poem. There’s no turning back, my mind needs to roam...”)
Children’s Books (Don’t even bother - they are impossible to get published.)
Novels (The novel’s story is the container - what a bonus for novelists!)
Here’s the problem…
I write all of these things (except novels and self-help, but never say never) and am not exactly known as the queen of structure.
I write poems in the middle of the night (or the day, if I am procrastinating or see something pretty or awful...I don’t think I’ve ever said, “I am going to sit down and write a poem today.”)
I write stories from my childhood that keep knocking.
I write down my dreams in real time.
I record the mean things that other people’s children say to my children as a diffusion mechanism so that I won’t have to punch them, or their parents.
I write about my mom who I lost at the beginning of the pandemic.
I (am trying to) write about my dad.
My sisters!
I write (and kept notes, in case you were wondering or are worried) about my non-linear but wouldn’t trade it for anything career (and then try to figure out if this is actually true and make a note to write about it.)
I write Alphabet Books.
Origin Stories.
Sticky Things.
Inciting Incidents.
Dings, as they are the things that form us.
I pull the pages from my old journals and letters that make me laugh, cringe, cry - and try to use them somewhere, especially if my first thought is to burn them. (Maybe I will write about my secret life as a masochist!)
Jesus. This is already a disaster and it is only (supposed to be) a prologue.
Once (and sometimes still), I worked with a badass person/friend/writer/mentor (it was Laura Munson) who made me write a mission statement to help me figure out why I write. (I did it, even though I didn’t like it one bit):
“I write because I see stories as artifacts that connect us to (and remind us of) our shared humanity………..beautiful hot mess that it is.”
I stand by that statement (it was written on a good day), but also this one, written on a bad one:
“I write so that I won’t explode.”
See what I mean? So how am I supposed to choose a fucking container?
But here’s the good news (there is always good news if you look hard enough)...
I have a solve (at least for me, and maybe you, if you also like to write but hate containers):
THE BOOK THAT YOU ARE ( or WILL BE!) HOLDING IS THE CONTAINER!
It can hold everything! It can be a hot mess! It can be anything I want, because I am a Writer (I have been practicing saying that), not (necessarily, or at least yet) an Author!
Plus, since I might never write another book for the rest of my life (writing a book is really hard), I have to get it all in here!
But, because I want to be fair to you, my Someday Maybe Reader (and also because deep down I sometimes do like to follow rules), here’s what I will tell you about my book. It came to me in a poem one night at 2:26am and I call it:
A POETIC INTRODUCTION
Between my Start Day (July 28, 1967) and my End Date (tbd)
with my whole life in between,
These are poems and ponderings
of things I’ve felt, remembered, seen.
They’re for:
Anyone who’s trying,
Anyone who cares.
Anyone who’s flailing,
Anyone who swears.
Anyone who lives their life,
But (sometimes) stays in bed.
Anyone who wants to laugh,
But screams (or cries) instead.
Anyone who knows that
It’s a shit show and a fight,
But tries to love their people
And aim at what is right.*
*I don’t mean that kind of right, but everyone is welcome to read my book.
*OR! How about this as the last line: “And also wants to write.” (I think everyone wants to write……something.)
ps. In case you don’t read my book and only read this “prologue”?
This started for my mom and kept going for my daughters. I would have totally quit by now, except for them…because someday they will lose their mom, too.
pps.Oh no!
Guess what just happened? By writing all of this down and then immediately wanting to delete everything and never write again, I came up with my container (and switched the title):
Stephanie Says: by Stephanie Kemp
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It will be like a Best of Compilation Album by Someone You’ve Never heard Of (and my daughters can make me a cool cover!). Everyone should make one.........don’t you think? (But now I might have to start a printing press. Right after I clear my new title with the Velvet Underground. I am unstoppable!)
ppps. I hope you write a book (or anything else). I want to read it.
___________________________________________________________
BTW, here are some examples of books with genius containers that I love (or hate because I didn’t write them):
The Middle Place by Kelly Corrigan
(Container: A glimpse into the beautiful time in life when your kids are small and safe and your parents are old/er but still healthy, and you get to live sandwiched in the magical land of that double reality.)
Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott
(Container: Funny, human, tangible steps and stories on how to write and/or live a Life with a capital L.)
Crying in H Mart by Michelle Zauner
(Container: Your mom dies when you are too young to lose her and you still have to figure out how to be a grown up person in the world, only now without your mom while realizing you never learned how to make her comfort foods and she will never get to see you become a badass indie rockstar and/or any/everything else you will continue to grow up to be.)
Flaneuse by Lauren Elkin
(Container: What happens when women take and make their rightful place walking, contemplating and writing the streets in all the cities and corners of the world that the men used to hog for themselves.)
Tasha by Brian Morton
(Container: A grown son takes care of his challenging, brilliant, increasingly irascible mom at the the end of her life in a world that sucks for old people, as he tries to sort out his own complicated relationship with her and what she meant to so many others, while preparing to say goodbye.)
I Don’t Have a Happy Place by Kim Korson
(Container: Hilarious short stories about being seriously, chronically and unapologetically unhappy.)
Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life by Amy Krouse Rosenthal
(Container: Memoir via Encyclopedic format. RIP, AKR. There was nothing ordinary about you.)
River Teeth by David James Duncan
(I wrote an entire essay about this Container - it is the first one in my book, or somewhere at the top of my website if my book doesn’t exist yet, and very short! If you read it, it will explain EVERYTHING.)
Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein
(Container: Genius Kid Think Poems paired with Perfect Simple Line Drawing Illustrations about everything that matters to anyone who is or was ever a kid.)
Trick Mirror: Reflections on Self-Delusion by Jia Tolentino
(Container: Nine personal essays on the state of humanity and identity in the internet age by a genius millenial who makes me believe the world might possibly find a way to keep spinning despite the state of humanity and identity in the internet age.)
In Love by Amy Bloom
(Container: A Massive Love Story that ended too soon, by choice, through bravery, in dignity.)
Any/Everything by David Sedaris
(Container: OG Funny Family Stories…and any/everything else.)
I just wanted to include these examples to make sure that you know I understand what a container is...(and because I think you might also really love these books).
______________________________
Special Thanks to: Grace, Heather, Breene, Courtney, Liz, Kelly, Tegan
When you tell someone you are a writer, they say (if you are lucky, and I am):
Oh my God! You would be such a great writer!
Wow. Really? I thought you were a…….(fill in the blank).
I can’t wait to read your book!
(Do you have a book?)
What is it about?
I bet it is hilarious!
Is it sad? (How are you doing, by the way?)
Is it a real book?
Are people going to get mad at you?
I always wanted to write, but……..(fill in the blank).
You should write about that time you………(fill in the blank)!
You should write about your…..(fill in the blank).
You could totally be a writer!
Good for you! I tell my daughter she can do whatever she wants to, but she still has to have a day job!
Wait….Did you even study writing?
This is why I rarely tell anyone that I am a writer.
The next level of telling someone you are a writer is when you tell it to people who are also writers:
Fiction or memoir?
Do you want to publish?
And then (if the answer is yes):
Do you have a proposal?
What is the container?
This last one is the one that always stops me cold.
The effing “container” ruins everything (for this writer).
If you are writing any kind of book, the container is the unique structure that you hang your words on (and/or the time based bookends you use to contain them).
For example(s):
Memoir (Growing Fierce Together: The Year my Kitten became a Cat)
Personal Essays (The Loan Out: Stories of a nice, normal Michigander working and living in mostly batshit but used to sometimes be awesome Hollywood)
A Life in Letters (Sent but Never Answered, or Answered after Being Sent to the Wrong Person)
Self-Help (How to Know When to Stay in Bed Forever or “Get Up and Get Going!”)
Pandemic Poetry (”Send me a picture, I’ll write you a poem. There’s no turning back, my mind needs to roam...”)
Children’s Books (Don’t even bother - they are impossible to get published.)
Novels (The novel’s story is the container - what a bonus for novelists!)
Here’s the problem…
I write all of these things (except novels and self-help, but never say never) and am not exactly known as the queen of structure.
I write poems in the middle of the night (or the day, if I am procrastinating or see something pretty or awful...I don’t think I’ve ever said, “I am going to sit down and write a poem today.”)
I write stories from my childhood that keep knocking.
I write down my dreams in real time.
I record the mean things that other people’s children say to my children as a diffusion mechanism so that I won’t have to punch them, or their parents.
I write about my mom who I lost at the beginning of the pandemic.
I (am trying to) write about my dad.
My sisters!
I write (and kept notes, in case you were wondering or are worried) about my non-linear but wouldn’t trade it for anything career (and then try to figure out if this is actually true and make a note to write about it.)
I write Alphabet Books.
Origin Stories.
Sticky Things.
Inciting Incidents.
Dings, as they are the things that form us.
I pull the pages from my old journals and letters that make me laugh, cringe, cry - and try to use them somewhere, especially if my first thought is to burn them. (Maybe I will write about my secret life as a masochist!)
Jesus. This is already a disaster and it is only (supposed to be) a prologue.
Once (and sometimes still), I worked with a badass person/friend/writer/mentor (it was Laura Munson) who made me write a mission statement to help me figure out why I write. (I did it, even though I didn’t like it one bit):
“I write because I see stories as artifacts that connect us to (and remind us of) our shared humanity………..beautiful hot mess that it is.”
I stand by that statement (it was written on a good day), but also this one, written on a bad one:
“I write so that I won’t explode.”
See what I mean? So how am I supposed to choose a fucking container?
But here’s the good news (there is always good news if you look hard enough)...
I have a solve (at least for me, and maybe you, if you also like to write but hate containers):
THE BOOK THAT YOU ARE ( or WILL BE!) HOLDING IS THE CONTAINER!
It can hold everything! It can be a hot mess! It can be anything I want, because I am a Writer (I have been practicing saying that), not (necessarily, or at least yet) an Author!
Plus, since I might never write another book for the rest of my life (writing a book is really hard), I have to get it all in here!
But, because I want to be fair to you, my Someday Maybe Reader (and also because deep down I sometimes do like to follow rules), here’s what I will tell you about my book. It came to me in a poem one night at 2:26am and I call it:
A POETIC INTRODUCTION
Between my Start Day (July 28, 1967) and my End Date (tbd)
with my whole life in between,
These are poems and ponderings
of things I’ve felt, remembered, seen.
They’re for:
Anyone who’s trying,
Anyone who cares.
Anyone who’s flailing,
Anyone who swears.
Anyone who lives their life,
But (sometimes) stays in bed.
Anyone who wants to laugh,
But screams (or cries) instead.
Anyone who knows that
It’s a shit show and a fight,
But tries to love their people
And aim at what is right.*
*I don’t mean that kind of right, but everyone is welcome to read my book.
*OR! How about this as the last line: “And also wants to write.” (I think everyone wants to write……something.)
ps. In case you don’t read my book and only read this “prologue”?
This started for my mom and kept going for my daughters. I would have totally quit by now, except for them…because someday they will lose their mom, too.
pps.Oh no!
Guess what just happened? By writing all of this down and then immediately wanting to delete everything and never write again, I came up with my container (and switched the title):
Stephanie Says: by Stephanie Kemp
It will be like a Best of Compilation Album by Someone You’ve Never heard Of (and my daughters can make me a cool cover!). Everyone should make one.........don’t you think? (But now I might have to start a printing press. Right after I clear my new title with the Velvet Underground. I am unstoppable!)
ppps. I hope you write a book (or anything else). I want to read it.
___________________________________________________________
BTW, here are some examples of books with genius containers that I love (or hate because I didn’t write them):
The Middle Place by Kelly Corrigan
(Container: A glimpse into the beautiful time in life when your kids are small and safe and your parents are old/er but still healthy, and you get to live sandwiched in the magical land of that double reality.)
Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott
(Container: Funny, human, tangible steps and stories on how to write and/or live a Life with a capital L.)
Crying in H Mart by Michelle Zauner
(Container: Your mom dies when you are too young to lose her and you still have to figure out how to be a grown up person in the world, only now without your mom while realizing you never learned how to make her comfort foods and she will never get to see you become a badass indie rockstar and/or any/everything else you will continue to grow up to be.)
Flaneuse by Lauren Elkin
(Container: What happens when women take and make their rightful place walking, contemplating and writing the streets in all the cities and corners of the world that the men used to hog for themselves.)
Tasha by Brian Morton
(Container: A grown son takes care of his challenging, brilliant, increasingly irascible mom at the the end of her life in a world that sucks for old people, as he tries to sort out his own complicated relationship with her and what she meant to so many others, while preparing to say goodbye.)
I Don’t Have a Happy Place by Kim Korson
(Container: Hilarious short stories about being seriously, chronically and unapologetically unhappy.)
Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life by Amy Krouse Rosenthal
(Container: Memoir via Encyclopedic format. RIP, AKR. There was nothing ordinary about you.)
River Teeth by David James Duncan
(I wrote an entire essay about this Container - it is the first one in my book, or somewhere at the top of my website if my book doesn’t exist yet, and very short! If you read it, it will explain EVERYTHING.)
Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein
(Container: Genius Kid Think Poems paired with Perfect Simple Line Drawing Illustrations about everything that matters to anyone who is or was ever a kid.)
Trick Mirror: Reflections on Self-Delusion by Jia Tolentino
(Container: Nine personal essays on the state of humanity and identity in the internet age by a genius millenial who makes me believe the world might possibly find a way to keep spinning despite the state of humanity and identity in the internet age.)
In Love by Amy Bloom
(Container: A Massive Love Story that ended too soon, by choice, through bravery, in dignity.)
Any/Everything by David Sedaris
(Container: OG Funny Family Stories…and any/everything else.)
I just wanted to include these examples to make sure that you know I understand what a container is...(and because I think you might also really love these books).
______________________________
Special Thanks to: Grace, Heather, Breene, Courtney, Liz, Kelly, Tegan