Maybe It's My Intensity
Isolated in idealism, writing to figure out what I believe
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People always told me I was “too much.” I’ve certainly lost friends because of my intensity over the years, and pouted in the aftermath of loss, assuming I just wasn’t lovable. Have you ever felt that? Does it sound familiar? Changing yourself to be liked, to be loved, the quiet voice inside telling you you’re not ok as you are, that you have to be different to be desirable?
What a sad story. The other day, my therapist said maybe a long-time friend was backing away from talking with me about Israel and antisemitism because of my “intensity” on the subject. She might be right.
But at 53, I’m ok with being intense. Listen: I’ve been like this my whole life. I think I was born this way. And rather than swim against the tide all my life to be someone I’m not, why not be who I am? Embrace it. Accept and nod, yes I am intense, so what? Some people will love it, some people will back away, but it’s how the blood runs through my veins.
From this intensity comes a lot of good things, too. A book a year (and sometimes more). A long line of achievements. A deep belief that anything is possible if I want to go for it.
I was a journalist for 15 years early in my career—first at newspapers, and then freelance. I worked for myself starting at 27, and I wrote fiercely, worked all hours, scrappily pitched new editors. I even flew to faraway cities on my own dime to meet editors and convince them to send story assignments my way. Especially when I went to Des Moines, Iowa in the frigid neck of winter, they were impressed—you came all this way just to meet me? Yep.
And then, journalism shrank with the economic recession, and I was getting divorced and my children were very young. The house was under water—I sat on the bottom carpeted step, head in my literal hands, and reasoned that if it all went belly-up, I’d move in with my parents, and it wasn’t the worst thing, though at 37, I really didn’t want that.
Which spurred me to work harder, fiercer, and succeed. For a time, I wanted to create a magazine. I took myself to Ann Arbor and met with my new mentor and friend, Paul Saginaw, a founder of Zingerman’s, and told him all about it, how it would be a Jewish New Yorker, and did he want to invest? He was so kind, shaking his head and saying, magazines are a losing proposition these days, but I’d read it, I’d subscribe. It was 2007, and he invited me to participate in his e-club, a six-week course for wannabe entrepreneurs, and he taught us all about how to start a business.
I learned so much that I dropped the magazine idea and for a brief time, I wanted to open a cafe. It would serve breakfast and lunch, and in the after-hours, I’d bring people together across racial and religious lines, drawn by the written or spoken word, and we’d build bridges of understanding in that cafe of baked sweets & strong coffee.
But I was a single mother by then, and it’s hard to run a restaurant when your children are so young and you have no support. So I started a blog called Nourish Cafe, and that was where I brought people together, for some long years, writing daily.
I blogged for a long time, and then I stopped because I wasn’t writing creatively when I was writing online. There’s only so much room for creativity when you have to earn a living, and I wanted to write books. So now I’m here.
I think the intensity is paying off, isn’t it? It might isolate me sometimes, and make me feel lonely—I’ll admit that—but I’m so tired of trying to be someone I’m not.
My therapist has a way of simply stating what is so obvious, making everything seem less important than I sometimes make it out to be. Like, in two generations, no one will remember us anyway, so live today and don’t worry what others think. Or, one or two good people in your life is really all you need. True.
I think it might be uniquely American to want more more more. To never be satisfied. I’ve been watching the last season of My Brilliant Friend. It’s such a beautifully filmed series. In Italian with English subtitles. And the protagonist, Elena Greco, moves back to a small, poor enclave near Naples with her three daughters, just to be near her childhood best friend. The apartment is described as “two rooms and a kitchen,” and the girls all sleep in one room, and the family is content. It’s enough.
I thought, two rooms and a kitchen? That would never be enough here. It’s a story about how we can go far from where we started, but it never truly leaves us. It’s embedded deep within. Might as well make friends with our origins.
Book Marketing Update
In more than two decades in business, I learned something really interesting. Money and time are the two reasons people say they can’t do something, and those are never the reasons—we find the money and make the time when something is of value.
Value is key—articulating your value, showing people how what you offer will improve their lives or bring them insight. Believing in your own value.
I coach people on book marketing, coach being the operative word: I don’t do it for them; I teach them how to do it themselves. For a few reasons. Because, 1, it’s tiresome and frustrating to pay someone else way more than you’ll ever earn back in book sales. And, 2, once you have the skills, you can continue the marketing, which is never-ending. It becomes part of your life and your repertoire.
But it’s funny. Authors don’t want to market. I do it, but I don’t want to do it because I want to write. You get it. Still, the only way books sell is by telling people they’re there and promoting them endlessly, so you have to resign yourself to nurturing the process for a long time, if you want an author career.
So I say, make it fun. Find the fun. It can be, you know. Take a playful approach to marketing—what happens if I do this? And then that? Let’s just see. Let’s try new things and take risks and jump in the deep end and see if we can swim. Chances are good that we can.
What I’m doing these days for book marketing: Facebook ads, Bookbub, social media posts, email newsletters, book talks—one a month, ongoing. Relationship-building. In all my years of marketing, that’s what I landed on: build a mutually beneficial relationship with your readers and keep feeding it. What’s good for them? What’s good for you? Truly care, and it comes back to you. Plus, it’s fun.
What I’ve Been Reading
The Wolf Hunt by Ayelet Gundar-Goshen—OMG, so good. I literally blew off everything on my calendar for a 36-hour period and tore through this book. I’ll be leading a book club discussion about this at Congregation Beth Ahm in May.
Displaced Persons by Joan Leegant—I don’t normally read short stories, but this collection is riveting.
Long Island by Colm Toibin—Another tear-through, couldn’t-put-down! I loved the movie made about the first in this series, Brooklyn, and so when I saw there was a book 2 in the Eillis Lacey series, I snapped it up. Gorgeous.
House of Sticks by Ly Tran—This memoir by my friend, a refugee from Vietnam when she was 3 years old, is heart-wrenching and beautiful. I’m listening to the audiobook, which Ly narrates so beautifully.
A Relative Stranger by Charles Baxter—I bought this for 50 cents at a thrift store, mostly because the author spent most of his life in Ann Arbor, Michigan, teaching at my alma mater, but found that I love the stark beauty of his short stories. I mean it when I say I don’t usually read short stories, but here I am with two in the last month. Hmmm…
Thanks for reading A Look in the Mirror. If you like what you read here, I’d sure appreciate it if you might become a paid subscriber. You’ll get the satisfaction of supporting a working writer plus discounts on my classes and programs and retreats and occasional book giveaways and live zoom writing coaching calls. Look forward to new issues on the 1st and 15th of every month!
Nice job. I think it’s critical to be ourselves, even if we are too much. And yes, we get things done!!!