The other night while on the phone with a friend I threw out the idea that everything I need to know about life I learned in creative writing class. Or something like that. Of course, my theory didn’t get very far because we all know everything we needed to know came in kindergarten, or chicken soup, I’m not quite sure.

Anyway, I had a good start; at least I thought I did.

Show Don’t Tell

That’s like the golden rule of creative writing. Not only will you hear that phrase five kabillion times in any creative writing class you ever take, you’ll also see it written at least three times on any thing you hand in, just in case you forgot about the five kabillion mentions in class.

This is a tough one to live by. Really, I dare you to try it for a week. Showing people how you feel is much more difficult than just telling them. But, I would argue, showing is way more efficient. Because if you show someone that you dig them by paying attention to them, noticing details, etc, you don’t have to constantly reassure them with “yeah, I do like you.” Saying I dig you and then acting like a jackass just doesn’t cut it.

This also works for people you aren’t particularly digging at the moment. Lately, I’ve been having some problems with a co-worker. She’s a good person and really good at what she does, but lately this doesn’t seem to matter because she’s driving me nutso. This woman has self-esteem that I envy, but now it’s bordering on narcissism. She cannot speak a single sentence nor have a single conversation without reminding you how brilliant she is. Everything she does is brilliant; every idea, every TV show, movie, song, everything associated with her is brilliant. And if you ever forget, wait five minutes and she’ll remind you. This is clearly a case where I’d much rather she shows me her brilliance rather than just tell me, because frankly, I can’t see it and I’m not buying her PR.

She’s got other issues going on too. Somewhere in her brilliant, yet warped mind she’s decided I’m the cool kid. Don’t ask. I’ve never been the cool kid. I never wanted to be the cool kid. But, I have discovered, much to my chagrin, that I sure can act like the cool kids. This woman has been arguing with our co-workers lately over having to compete with them for my attention. She doesn’t like this. I have no idea what the hell she’s talking about. But clearly this means that to get into my good graces and bask in the warm glow of my cool-kid attention she has to treat everyone around us poorly.

This does not cut it with me. Though I have tried to tell her on numerous occasions that I like them all just the same, and I like her as much as everyone else, and she should back off, it’s not cutting it. And now she’s pissed me off.

So I’ve decided to show her how much I don’t approve of her behavior. I’ve just started ignoring her, and favoring the others. It’s very 8th grade lunch-room behavior, but I just don’t know what else to do. Perhaps by showing her what a drag she’s become, she’ll wise up. In the meantime, I’m getting so much demented joy from being the cool kid that I think I should probably seek professional help pronto. Now I see why all those skinny popular girls were such megabitches because they could be.

Your Character Has to Say Yes

This one is new. I just learned this sometime in September, and I am most enamored with this little lesson. This is, however, the little lesson that threw a giant wrench in my “everything I needed to know about life I learned in creative writing class “theory” but we’re just gonna ignore that, ok?

Here’s what the wise and beautiful writing teacher whom I had a big, fat crush on said: “In order for your story to go anywhere, your character has to say yes to something. No matter how preposterous or absurd it may seem, your character has to say yes.”

Then he went on to list a bunch of examples from great short stories that made me just sigh dreamily in his direction.

But I’m using this one to my full advantage. In order for my story (read my life) to go anywhere my character (read me) has to say yes. And honey, I’ve been saying yes all over the place. Yes to things that I wouldn’t normally do, yes to people I wouldn’t normally say yes to, and it’s scaring the shit out of me.

Since my character has to say yes for the story to go anywhere, I have decided to go to an art opening. Yes, little Jodi from the sticks is going to an opening at an art show at an art gallery. Why? Because the Artguy she works with asked her if she would like to go. If I had said no, the story would end there, but I said yes and now there’s gonna be a whole new exciting chapter.

And, because saying yes to the Artguy wasn’t quite enough yes-saying for me, I said yes to something else. I swallowed my fear, my pride, and my lack of trust and said yes, when I asked myself if I should seek a partner for this event. So I asked my friend, the TTHM, to go with me, and he said yes because he probably wants his story to go somewhere too.

But that’s as far as I got. There are only two lessons in the “everything I needed to know about life I learned in creative writing class” theory, because that’s where I got stumped. I couldn’t think of any other lessons I learned that I needed to apply to life. Because no matter how hard I tried I could whip that I before E except after C into any sort of life lesson.