I have a busy calendar this fall and winter — why/how? It turns out when you say yes to things, things eventually happen! But I’m super-stoked about all of these things. Here’s the next week. Come say hi in person or online! We will say SPOOOOOOKY together in funny voices. It’ll be great.
Hit up my events page for links and more info on any of these.
We went out to see live music this week, Jeff Tweedy, at our local arthouse theater, The Kentucky, for its 100th anniversary. (Of many bands. Don’t make me get out the wikipedia. But if you’re not familiar, do yourself a favor and check out Uncle Tupelo and Wilco.)
I love the The Kentucky Theatre in general, as a place to see anything, but I’ve seen some special music there. Warren Zevon, Cowboy Junkies, a Gillian Welch show that was absolutely perfect. But it’s been way longer than the pandemic since they hosted shows, and I’m so glad for this one and I it’s the first of many more live shows to come. There’s something alchemical about the beauty and grandeur and age of the theater combined with the perfect size for the energy of a significant audience but not so big it doesn’t feel intimate or like an exchange. There’s not a bad seat in the house, the acoustics are chef’s kiss. The crowd felt vaguely feral in the best way, and Tweedy rolled with it in fine self-deprecating style.
Which is not as easy as it seems.
Pulling off the self-deprecation, I mean. The opening act was very nervous and wearing it on her sleeve. And I’m so sympathetic. But when you’re brand new, encountering people for the first time, don’t do it. Fake it till you make it applies. Find some swagger, because otherwise, you’re telling people you’re not confident that they should be paying attention to you and unless you are a complete genius they will probably take your word for it. It might even come across in the work. This is why writers should never apologize for a piece they’re bringing to workshop or in general.
But, once you have a few more people on your side, convinced they should listen or pay attention, then self-deprecation absolutely can work for you. We all know there’s doubts in us all. It unlocks a casualness, a—god help me I hate this word, but it fits—relatability. It still takes effort to pull off, even then.
For example, the crowd at the Kentucky was, as I mentioned, a little feral, in that way crowds are in this pandemic world. Some of us forgot how to be in public, and there’s just a sense that HOLY SHIT anything could happen when you’re around other people. Tweedy is obviously a veteran performer and even he joked about how sometimes when you’re on stage there’s a voice in your head saying “REGAIN CONTROL.” (He also started the evening confessing he had bad soft-shell crab earlier in the day. To which someone yelled out that it was his fault for ordering soft-shell crab in Lexington. Feral. Crowd.)
Anyway, the show is well in, and there’s the usual screams and shrieks of “I love you” happening, someone in the front asks if they can dance and he’s like “There might be consequences.” Because it’s a pretty chill acoustic show. And then there was a quote so funny and charming that I typed it in my notes app to share it with y’all, because I was noticing how the self-deprecation worked for one of the night’s acts and not the other:
“I just find it embarrassing when people like me. I love myself—not unconditionally though. No one should. Hold yourself to a higher standard if you can.”
The fine art of self-deprecation done just so. Control was mostly regained. Don’t just be nervous. Be funny about it. Perhaps that’s the real lesson.
(If there was a way to insert video, I’d put in a clip from the performance, so make that happen, Substack.)
Again, I get it. My natural state is bemusement at my foibles. I don’t claim to have escaped from a screwball comedy for nothing.
I’ll leave you with a couple of moon shots — you see what I did there — from my new camera. Night and day.
More soon,
G
Preorder or add to your goodreads - Mr. & Mrs. Witch! Coming in March!
“This ‘lovers to enemies and back again’ story is a charming romantic comedy with a witchy twist. A highly enjoyable read that’s as much fun as a broomstick ride, it may make you wonder if your cat has a secret life!”
—Jen DeLuca, USA Today bestselling author of WELL MATCHED
“Gwenda Bond puts a spell on you! Delightfully sexy and bewitchingly hilarious, Mr. & Mrs. Witch is the assassins-to-lovers you didn’t know you needed. I loved this book!”
—Ashley Poston, New York Times bestselling author of The Dead Romantics