The Three Kinds of Vacation (+ Writer Unboxed Redirect)

Based upon observation, the world can be sorted into three types of vacations.

1. The linen-wearer’s holiday: This is the province of the driven. Holiday experiences are to be gathered with efficiency and enthusiasm and sufficient quantity before you efficiently, enthusiastically and gratefully string them upon a silken thread. If this results in a necklace too taut to wear without breaking, oh well. In what manner does this differ from your real life?

This is the type of vacation I tried to have with the ToolMaster for the first few years of my marriage. Fortunately for my health, his type B personality proved dominant and we soon settled on the second type of holiday.

2. The polyester holiday: In this kind of vacation you are not out to impress anybody — especially yourself — with the threat of productivity. Want to sleep in and miss the ferry? No problem. Hooked on a book? Eh. Take it to the beach. Devour it under the umbrella along with calorically-neutral Mai Tais. This break is an antidote to your normal life.

One teensy little problem with this model: What happens when it’s over? Even I know linen and polyester don’t mix.

3. I discovered the third kind of vacation in Salem Massachusetts during the Writer Unboxed UnConference. We will call this the nudist holiday. You’ve packed your scribblers and your workshop schedule and— No. You know what? To do this story justice, it’s going to require context. Come join me on Writer Unboxed with Lessons from the UnCon: I Surrender. I’m Finally Ready to Be Naked.

And if you’re all about the photos, here’s the link to my album on Facebook. Want a preview? Here’s me and Good Sir V (Vaughn Roycroft), who has been an online friend, warm-hearted WU colleague, and Tartitude commenter for years.

Photo credit: Denise Willson

Photo credit: Denise Willson

 

 

Why I Decided Not to Tackle the Strip-Club Metaphor (and Writer Unboxed Redirect)

You’ve heard the expression lady-balls, otherwise known as gonads or ovaries? The rebel in me adores the term.

I bring this up because I own a pair. At least that’s what was said of me when I put up my latest post on Writer Unboxed.

The subject was deconstructing micro-tension, which happens to be Donald Maass’ area of expertise. I suppose that’s akin to going to Albert Einstein’s blog, putting up a rudimentary post on relativity, then asking not to be eviscerated by the scientific community. Contains the potential for blogging suicide, yes?

Ah. But there are good reasons why I wasn’t (overly) concerned:

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Would You Bet on the Stylist, the Plumber or the Doc?

A plumber, a hairdresser and a doctor walk into a bar. When the server returns, in addition to handing over their drinks, he issues each an identical box of 100 facial photos and a challenge: Sort the box’s contents into two piles–smokers and non-smokers–and whomever achieves the highest degree of accuracy will drink free for the rest of the night.

Assuming each person is representative of their occupation, who is most likely to win? Who is most likely to go home perfectly sober?

Does this sound like a joke to you, Zesties? In fact, it’s connected to a medical study I read years ago, and to the theme of today’s post, which is that of games connected to people’s occupations.*

Back to the study for a moment and the results. If you played along, did you place the participants in this order of ascending accuracy?

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