Finishing the Sentence
Avoiding "sexy stress" in the lead-up to my book launch (in ONE WEEK! AHH!!)
Well. Here we (almost) are.
My book A Guide to Midwestern Conversation (have I mentioned it?) comes out a week from today. (Psst. Preorders help books SO MUCH did you know that? Oh, I told you 700 times? Okay great love you!)
I am so many things. I am excited. I am humbled. I am nervous. I am proud. I am hopeful and terrified and emotional and grateful and busy and overwhelmed and every other possible thing I could be.
Over the past few weeks leading up to launch, trying to market a book while working a full-time, time-intensive job that also requires creativity-on-demand, I’ve been tempted to succumb to what my sister and I have dubbed “sexy stress.” This is a term we coined for people who have, (and I say this with all the love in my heart) “high school stage manager” energy.
“Sexy stress” is a state of performative overwhelm. A constant wide-eyed manic state that lets everyone around you know how busy and spread thin and committed you are to the project and task at hand.
I say that it’s high school stage manager energy because by the time folks get to college or professional theater they realize that people will appreciate the work you’re doing even if (sometimes especially if) they don’t know how stressed out the work makes you at any given moment. That fretting outwardly about all the things that need to get done actually doesn’t get things done as much as shutting up and doing them.
My personal flirtation with “sexy stress” the past few weeks has gone something like this:
Me to myself: This is hard.
Myself to me: Sure is! But you can do hard things!
Me to myself: Yeah, but I feel like it’s hard in a way that’s making me a worse friend and employee and daughter and sister and partner.
Myself to me: But remember our therapist said that all those people love you and want the best for you.
Me to myself: Maybe. Or maybe I’ve ruined everything and they’re super mad at me because they don’t know how hard I’m working. I should tell them how hard this is. I should tell everyone!
Myself to me: You mean ask for help? Or support?
Me to myself: NO! Just announce that I’m working hard so that everyone knows but I can’t ask for help! What do I even need help with!
Myself to me: Maybe just confirmation that they understand and support you? And that they know it’s hard?
Me to myself: But is it actually hard or is it just hard because I’m not doing the work and just sitting here thinking about how hard it is?
Myself to me: Maybe it’s a little of both and that’s okay!
Me to myself: No it’s not. I’m being a lazy baby. I’m making to-do lists and not actually doing anything I’m a big stupid dummy who doesn’t deserve success.
Myself to me: Hey. WHOA. Hey. What? Hey. Look at me. LOOK AT ME. What is stressing you out right now?
Me to myself: I have to email a podcast host and get book event RSVPs and write a humor piece and turn in a script for work and I have three shows this week and I have to pack for my trip to Kansas City and…
Myself to me: Hey. That…sounds like you’re living your dream.
Me to myself: Excuse me?
Myself to me: Why do you have to email a podcast host?
Me to myself: Um…cause he wants to interview me about the book I wrote.
Myself to me: Mmmhmmm. And…that script? Why do you have to turn that in?
Me to myself:
becauseIwriteforLastWeekTonightwithJohnOliveradreamIhadsincecollege
Myself to me: Sorry, I couldn’t hear you?
Me to myself: BECAUSE I WRITE FOR LAST WEEK TONIGHT WITH JOHN OLIVER, A DREAM I HAD SINCE COLLEGE
Myself to me: And why do…
Me to myself: I get it you can stop-
Myself to me: Rule of threes.
Me to myself: And why do you have to pack for Kansas City?
Myself to me: Because somehow, after everything that has happened, after the pandemic and the dream job and the various other wonderful and challenging things that have happened in my life and the world, I am, miraculously, getting to launch this book at home.
Me to myself: It seems like all of these things you have to do are actually fucking awesome. Or at least annoying for awesome reasons.
Myself to me: Okay, yeah. Yeah…you’re right.
Me to myself: Do you wanna go cradle the book in your arms like a baby and whisper “I made you?”
Myself to me: …maybe…
Me to myself: Okay, 2 minutes then back to work.
Fin
It doesn’t always end that way, of course. Sometimes it ends with “let’s go get a Chocolate Cream Cold Brew” or “let’s go cry in the shower for a few Kelly Clarkson songs” but the point is, it ends with me deciding to finish the sentence of my overwhelm. To say “I’ve got so much to do because I’ve done so much.” To remind myself that the tightening in my chest that I now feel as stress about my book or my job was once a feeling of abject longing for the life that is now mine.
I am living the dream. Sometimes, I just need to wake up and remember that.
Love you all,
TKP
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I would love to see you at any/all of my book events!
Kansas City: April 11 - The Bird Comedy Theater - 6pm
Des Moines: April 16 - Raygun - 4pm
New York: April 26 - KGB Bar: Red Room - 7pm
Manhattan Beach: May 16 - Pages: A Bookstore in Conversation with J. Ryan Stradal celebrating Saturday Night at the Lakeside Supper Club
Oh my goodness! I adore your talk with yourself! Been there, had that chat. I call that stressed voice “Yahbutt” Two t’s intentionally… Ha!
She also sometimes chastises me, accuses me of being sn imposter and the like. I have discovered that she needs love.
Thank you for sharing all of this and good luck with your launch!!