Author: Jackie Pick

Jackie Pick is a former teacher and current writer living in the Chicago area. She is a contributing author to multiple anthologies, including Multiples Illuminated, So Glad They Told Me: Women Get Real about Motherhood, Here in the Middle, as well as the and the literary magazines The Sun and Selfish. She received Honorable Mention from the Mark Twain House and Museum for her entry in the Royal Nonesuch Humor Writing Competition. Jackie is a contributing writer at Humor Outcasts, and her essays have been featured on various online sites including McSweeney's, Belladonna Comedy, Mamalode, The HerStories Project, and Scary Mommy. A graduate of the University of Chicago and Northwestern University, Jackie is co-creator and co-writer of the award-winning short film Fixed Up, and a proud member of the 2017 Chicago cast of Listen To Your Mother.

Spanx for the Memories and Absolutely No Other Puns but Maybe a Couple of References to Pie 

· Leave a comment ·

May 2024 Month in Review

Greetings, fellow snarklings.

Does “I was tired” count as a review? Probably not, but it does explain why my recommendations this month are as thin as a caffeine-free latte and mostly limited to “Get some sleep.”

Normally I feel a small weird panic if these reviews don’t magically appear* within 48 hours of the month ending. As if reflections have a cosmic expiration date. As though if they’re not served fresh, they’re compost. Four or five days into the month feels like the Ides of June (not these guys), which means it’s practically autumn, and wait, am I writing this from the future, circa 2027?

*as if I don’t have to write them

How we’ve conditioned ourselves to immediacy. Time is an unforgiving overlord. Here you go, Time, take the wheel. Knock yourself out.

This is all just to say that it feels like we’re functioning in the interstices May grudgingly doles out.

Let’s get into it, even if I’m a few days late. Maybe time is a poet, sweetening like a fine wine, sharpening like a cheddar, chunking up like old milk.

(Time may be a poet. I am not. Unless you want a poem about old milk.)

Anyway, here we are, tardy but with all the juicy details:

This time of year is a cocktail of achievement, exploration, wrapping up, recognition, and proving oneself. It’s a whirlwind of scope, sequence, pace, and sugar highs. When your whole family feels burned out by May 2nd, you know it’s going to be a long month. The world was like an angry blender — whirring and sharp and loud. AP tests, finals, placements, end-of-year celebrations, countdowns, more tests, competitions, nationals, baseball, track meets, concerts, performances, meetings, and good grief! It was a family endurance test, and my role was mostly snack duty and stress management.

Note: “You’ve got this” is less appreciated when accompanied by an inadvertent spray of half-chewed Ritz crackers.

This seems an appropriate time to give a hearty HALLOO and THANK YOU to all the adults in the kids’ lives who guided them to this particular finish line. You are excellent and I hope you can spend the next few months living in something other than 42-minute stretches.

Looking forward to a moment’s respite before the summer fully grabs us for a good do-si-do…oh wait, no. Just got an email with the subject line “Are We Doomed?” Better return my tray to the upright position.

Here are some splashes of marvelous from May 2024

(i.e. things I enjoyed that you may also enjoy or possibly not if you are feeling contrarian and cross.)

  • I got to be helpful this past year, a little bit, in places like my boys’ school and other community organizations. I can only hope my kind of help wasn’t the kind Shel Silverstein poked at, presented here from the Free to Be You and Me album for our first pie reference and also to meet our recommended daily requirement of Tommy Smothers:
  • I’m sneaking a family wedding into this month’s review, even though it technically happened in June (but the rehearsal dinner and travel were in May.) I visited Kansas City for the first time. Quite an excellent place. The rehearsal dinner was held in Union Station. Is there anything more filled with all the big human emotions, history, and excellent ceilings than a train station? I dare say, no? I DO DARE. The wedding itself was glorious, thoughtful, and beautiful. Maybe someday I’ll share more once the happy couple gets to tell their story first. (Guys, they sent us home with some of this barbecue sauce. IT’S AWESOME. I may or may not have been sticking my pinkie in there to get every last bit. Ok, I may have. I totally may have.)
  • Dr. Pepper Strawberries and Cream is turning me into a 12-year-old. That’s fine.
  • Shopped for the aforementioned wedding. Needed blue — not navy — heels. These shoes came up in the search. Alas, I did not get them, but I really want to get to know the person who does.

I already know the type who wears these:

(It’s me! Ask me about my neuroma!)

  • The best thing I can say about The Super Mario Bros. Movie is that it tapped into wellsprings of antipathy I didn’t realize I had. Except for Jack Black. I’m no monster.
  • Speaking of being behind, I’m watching Gilmore Girls which somehow escaped my attention the first go-around. Now I’m catching up and enjoying it along, apparently, with the rest of the world. Go Team Zeitgeist!
  • I need to accept that my husband does not take good photos of me. Maybe it’s the height difference, or maybe I operate under the mistaken belief that I do not look like a bridge troll. Or maybe I do in fact look like something out of Neil Gaiman’s nightmares, — in which case, excellent photography skills, honey. And if any of you jokesters are thinking of asking to see said photos, I SAY NAY.
  • Losing Alice Munro was a blow to writers and readers everywhere. Having her words still with us assuages the ache. Here’s an interview.
  • This is perfect and also a little flaky.
  • I leave you with this, someone who needs neither introduction nor Spanx. Probably. I can’t be sure.

Klappe zu, Affe tot, May. I’m off to look for some rhubarb to start on one of these:

A Meeting of the Mind

· 1 Comment ·

An Answer to the Question “How Is Writing the Novel Going?”

ME: Good morning, Every Part Of My Brain. Welcome to what I think we can all agree is a much-needed gathering of the committee. I appreciate you and every contribution you’ve made. Last month’s failures are this month’s stepping stones, right?

(THE CRITIC snorts)

ME: You know what, let’s skip the ice breakers; we’re all intimately familiar with each other’s quirks.

(Cheers erupt.)

ME: How about some treats!

(The group goes wild, followed by ten minutes of enthusiastic snacking.)

ME: Let’s get this rolling. I called this meeting of, uh, me…us…you BRAIN PARTS. I thought instead of you all coming at me higgledy-piggledy –

MONKEY BRAIN: Higgledy-piggledy! Higgledy-piggledy!

ME: — and in a disruptive way, we could all air our thoughts in an orderly fashion and I can get back to work on the new book. We’re nine days in and you’re all very…loud.

DREAMER: What if our protagonist could see emotions as colors swirling around people? It could add a whole layer of depth and magic!

ME: Huh. Interesting, but that doesn’t really align with the the plot, genre, or characters we’re writing. But otherwise, very creative!

CRITIC: Magic colors? Are we writing a book or doing a kiddie craft project? We need substance, people! Proper substance!

ARCHIVIST: Speaking of proper, let’s ensure our details are accurate. We don’t want another incident like the Doctor Who situation.

(The group gasps.)

ME: All right, that’s a little unnecessary. We all remember the what happened when I had a piece published and it said “Dr. Who” instead of “Doctor Who.”

SELF-DOUBTER: Oh, no. Now I’m compelled to list every public failure we’ve ever had. Shall I go in alphabetical order, chronological, or in level of humiliation?

HYPE MAN: Whoa there, buddy! Let’s not dive into the doom pool today. (Ornately gestures for the meeting continue)

MARKETER: I just saw a great Insta about a dog diving into a pool. Adorable. Talk about a launch! Speaking of which, we need to start thinking about that, and about all the marketing. Platforming. Audience building. Make sure everything you post online and also everything you say in every conversation is geared towards sales, acquiring an agent, getting a book deal, and of course, your legacy. That includes the book’s first line. Maybe we should put the first line online and see what people think?

SELF-DOUBTER: Yeah, no. I don’t need data confirming if people hate my first line.

ME: We’re only on the first dra –

HYPE MAN: Dude, fear not! Every great book had its doubters. We’re going to rock this so hard, they’ll feel it on Mars. (Performs enthusiastic air guitar solo.)

DREAMER: Let’s write a story where children’s shadows whisper their secrets.

ARCHIVIST: That may have been done already. I’ll check. But, you should know that shadows were often seen as spiritual, a bridge to the unseen world.

HYPE MAN: That’s what I’m talking about! We’re gonna bridge worlds, baby!

ME: Love the energy, buddy, but maybe turn it down a notch.

HYPE MAN: You got it, Chief! Dialing it back to a solid eleven. (Jumps on table) We’re gonna grab this book by the horns and ride it to glory town! Who’s with me?

CRITIC: I’d settle for making it out of the driveway without backing over the mailbox.

SELF-DOUBTER: Are we really going for the haunted hipster vibe now? Is that our brand?

MARKETING: I’m glad someone is thinking about branding. Speaking of which, we should write a series of blog posts. Build some buzz.

WORRIER: Let’s not get carried away. We have a reputation to not utterly destroy.

CRITIC: She’s not wrong. For once.

MONKEY BRAIN: Palm Frond. Frond. What kind of word is that?

CRITIC: Look, I have to say, this talking to yourself thing is not as charming as you think.

DREAMER: I find myself quite charming thank you.

CRITIC: And shadows that talk? Let’s focus on something adults might actually read.

MARKETER: Excellent point. We need to think about our target audience. Who are we writing this for, and what will grab their attention?

ME: Thank you, everyone, great input.

DREAMER: What if laws were divined from armpit stains on white shirts? Could we write that?

ME: Let’s hold that thought — actually, let’s not.

CRITIC: Your writing is as appealing as a pit stain. And as common.

ARCHIVIST: I’d like to revisit some unresolved topics from the last brainstorm. For instance, the Victorian ghost we abandoned last month?

ME: I considered writing a ghost story for, like, a second.

MARKETER: With significant tweaking and rewriting everything you’ve done for six months, we could hit a niche market that’s currently underserved.

HYPE MAN: Boom! Who’s ready to rock those ghosts back to life? Legendary!

SELF-DOUBTER: More like legendarily bad. I mean ghosts? We’re digging that up out of deep storage.

MARKETER: Speaking of digging, we should consider digging into new markets. How about a vlog series?

ME: I have to write the book first.

WORRIER: But what if no one likes it? What if we’re just shouting into the void? What if — 

MONKEY BRAIN: 🎶Tea with jam and bread. Tea with jam and bread.🎶

ME: Worrier, maybe you and Self-Critic can go into a breakout session and work together?

WORRIER: Oh, GOD are you kicking me out of the group?

DREAMER: Imagine a character so vivid that readers think they can reach out and touch them. Oooh, maybe they can literally step out of the book?

CRITIC: Wow. That’s awful.

ARCHIVIST: You mentioned in your notes here that a famous burger chain uses 80/20 beef. You need to quadruple-check that.

ME: I’m really only powering through the first draft now. That’s more of a later draft kind of –

ARCHIVIST: Fact-checking is not optional.

MARKETER: Add a viral element to the story. And do a reel, especially since you stopped the daily updates on (pointedly) DAY FOUR of writing. But, like, get a haircut first.

ME: Let’s focus. I called this meeting to streamline our thoughts, not scatter them further.

SELF-DOUBTER: Can I just say something, please? What if this whole idea is too ambitious? Or too dumb? Or we’re too dumb? Have we forgotten how mean people are? Or, worse, how pitying they can be? What if we fail?

HYPE MAN: What if we don’t? Like, what if we blow everyone’s minds?

MARKETER: We need to maybe find some people to share this with… talk through the ideas, maybe give them the first chapter or two.

EVERYONE: NO!

DREAMER: Not yet, friend. Not yet.

CRITIC: As long as we’re talking failures, do you need to update that list of writing rejections?

(Everyone grows quiet )

HYPE MAN: Come on. COME ON. Remember who we are. All that? Just the pre-show. This time we’re headlining the main stage. Let’s make this draft so hot, it’ll burn holes in their eyeballs! Goo everywhere!

ME: Well. There you go. This book isn’t going to write itself. Let’s get back to work.

MONKEY BRAIN: BEES.

The Folio: What I Read Mid-April Through Mid-May

· Leave a comment ·

Legacy, Raised Pinkies, and Cookie Crisp

This month’s reads were about legacy and our role in crafting it. What we spend our time on and how much intention we put behind it. 

NOT THE SNOOZEFEST YOU MIGHT THINK.

These are the books that I enjoyed enough to finish in the last month:

Writers at Work 08: The Paris Review Interviews

This 8th in a gazillion-volume collection from The Paris Review is an invaluable, delightful, and infuriating look into the process, philosophy, and weirdness of various writers. It’s a fantastic reminder to consider the whys and how-fors of craft, examining writing in social, authorial, political, and moral contexts.

From the profound to the gentle, the hilarious to the maddening — boy, what a mess we writers can be. Most interviewees were generous with their self-reflection, some were cloying or downright insufferable, all brilliant. I did have to remind myself these interviews are polished and edited, because there were moments I was like “ARE WRITERS SUPPOSED TO BE THIS GOOD ON THE FLY?”

Undergirding most of their thoughts is awareness of permanence in the work. While perhaps not intentional during the creative process most expressed an consideration of the afterlife of their words. Some eschewed it, some hugged it tight

Standouts:

  • E.B. White (“A writer should concern himself with whatever absorbs his fancy, stirs his heart, and unlimbers his typewriter”)
  • Robert Fitzgerald (“I don’t think it comes on that way…wanting to be a writer. You find yourself at a certain point making something in writing, and this seems to be great fun.”),
  • Elie Wiesel (“I am myself only when I work” and “Writing is so personal, so profoundly and terribly personal.”)
  • John Irving (“I believe you have constructive accidents en route through a novel only because you have mapped a clear way…the more you know about a book, the freer you can be to fool around.”

King Lear by William Shakespeare

You may have heard of this one. Lear descends into madness after handing over his kingdom to two rotten daughters while pushing away the good one. Cue the descent into madness, a cocktail of chaos, tragedy, bad spouses, fools, and some seriously bad-hair weather. It’s all about power, betrayal, redemption — Willie Shake’s big hits.

Do I need to provide quotes or explanations, because this one’s been chewed over for centuries? But, hey, it’s still kicking, repackaged as everything from Succession to Ran to A Thousand Acres to Cookie Crisp. (Kidding. Although I saw some Cookie Crisp hawked on an endcap at two stores the other day. WHO ASKED FOR THIS?)

T.G.I.Family Size

Shakespeare is meant to be watched, yet modern audiences (Hi! Me, even, with all my fancy learnin’) still struggle with the language. Somehow, Lear was never in my studies. Not even the college Shakespeare class. Not sure how that happened. Maybe I had a choice and picked something else, or I just don’t remember because I was focused on BEING IN MY VERY COOL COLLEGE A CAPPELLA GROUP.

Anyway, I’d watch a scene and then read it to soak up the wordplay. 

Not here to brag or claim I only skim the cream of literature, but yeah, my pinky is raised as I type this.

About Alice by Calvin Trillin 

This gem of a memoir by Calvin Trillin is a heart-stuffed tribute to his wife, spilling over with tales of their life and her impact on his work. Love as the ultimate legacy? You bet your sweet typewriter it is.

I crave this and would never, ever use it.

I picked About Alice up as a palate cleanser after Lear: short, digestible, and focused on love. It turned out to be both gorgeous and devastating.

Humorous and heartbreaking, it’s a love letter for the ages. There is something intimate in sharing mostly unremarkable moments of a life together. It’s absolutely uncynical, offering respite for a weary soul. Trillin’s love is overwhelming, and we breathe along with him.

Player Piano by Kurt Vonnegut

Are we coding ourselves into oblivion? Can we resist as a form of legacy? Or do we need to surf the beastly waves of tech change to leave our mark? Should we examine these questions through the lenses of technology, identity, and purpose? 

MAYBE!

Picking up this book feels like grabbing a live wire, thanks to the AI anxiety zapping through the creative world right now. Vonnegut serves uncomfortable truth: as technology grows, we and our humanity risk being downsized. Before you hand over your creative keys to some cold, calculating circuits (Would Lear? Doubt it.), think twice.

Yet, despite the gloom, Vonnegut’s just-so, wry humor stops you from walking too far into the existential sea (and hey, if you do, maybe a friendly AI lifeguard will save your ass — what do I know?)

Show Your Work by Austin Kleon

Encouraging creatives to share their process openly. It’s about peeling back the studio curtains and shouting, “Check this out!” to build a tribe that gets you. Kleon’s all about transparency and collaboration, pounding the drum for a legacy that’s more than your final masterpiece — it’s also about the blood, sweat, and tears that got you there.

I’m actually trying to do this with my book — small snippets (“Daily Dispatches”) on my socials, and then dropping a chonkier update here each month. It’s a solid way to summarize the process without blasting everyone with full-frontal, nuclear emotion.

(Hey, you keeping tabs on me? Are you scrolling with me on Threads? How about Substack Notes? And oh, Instagram — where you can witness my gloriously pathetic attempts at photography?)

The Secret History by Donna Tartt

Good gosh damn, Donna Tartt can write. This one had me staying up late and getting up early.

The novel follows a group of elite college students tangled up in a murder. I could crack wise about the different kinds of marks we can leave, but let’s keep this highbrow. The main characters shine in their intellectual pursuits and cloud everything else with a cascade of dark actions. They seek extraordinary legacy, struggling with their ethical compromises and the consequences. The book reflects on how the stories we tell about ourselves — and the secrets we keep — shape our legacy in complex ways.

As with her other works, Tartt writes with needle-sharp detail, creates insanely deep characters, and does so with near-celestial language. Her plots unfurl with deliberate grace.

I mean, holy cow.

___

Last month was a whirlwind romance with The Secret History, and I had a writerly crush on Show Your Work. The long and the short of it, quite literally.

What did you read this month?