Tough Love is the New Black

by Barbara Poelle

A colleague of mine, we’ll call her Jolly Loot, recently came into my home and performed what some may consider an intervention- others, an exorcism- regarding the contents of my closet. Apparently, Jolly vacillates between open mouth gaping and outright hysterical laughter at some of my wardrobe ensembles, and she felt she needed to step up and help out someone in need. Friends don’t let friends wear polyester blends or something.

Here’s the thing: back when we shared an office, I was oftentimes guilty of feeling like I needed to shake things up or “etch-a-sketch” the day. When this would happen I would quietly rise, leave the office, go buy a new outfit and come back dressed completely different.  This made her insane.  To add to her agony, sometimes, on a very rare occasion, I liked to go to this discount store aptly named The Big D and make purchases.  Now, I didn’t get the memo on this one, but apparently, buying your clothes from The Big D when your offices are on 5^th Avenue is akin to setting puppies on fire while working for PETA because she would scream and tear at her hair and rock when I would come waltzing back in wearing what I called a flow-y summer dress and she called a mu-mu.   

So, Jolly decided that a deep colon cleanse of my closet was in order. We set a date, and then Jolly came over to my apartment and made me pull out every item in my closet and try it on and it had to go into either the donate, throw, or keep pile.

Of course, there were some ground rules. I began the negotiations by insisting I was allowed three vetoes, and the subset veto clause denoted that if said veto included clothing that was actually composed of two or more items that would still only count as one veto.  Furthermore, it was acknowledged and agreed by both parties that should an item of clothing have particular sentimental value it was allowed to remain in my closet as long as it was never worn “in public”. This was followed quickly by Jolly clarifying that a secondary “in public” sub clause be initiated specifying this restriction included “popping downstairs to the bodega for a diet coke”, and “grabbing the laundry from across the street”. (Damn that crafty vixen, Jolly Loot!) And finally, there was one more clause on Jolly’s part: she would allow a complete ensemble to remain in the closet as long as I never wore all said pieces from ensemble simultaneously, as apparently, “that’s too much matching”.

(W!T!B?)

During the mighty purge, Jolly kept texting another colleague we’ll call Melissa Sarver (because that’s her name) with such phrases as:

OMG Sarver, there are not one, not two, but THREE velour jump suits in here  

Or

This is the first time I have ever seen an actual skort 

Now, you might think that prancing around in tightey whiteys and a tank top while someone laughs at you and texts about you to other colleagues might be somewhat disheartening, but please.  I am in Publishing.  

And there were Bellinis.

I mean, sure, there were a couple of touch and go moments when Jolly had to tear a jean skirt out of my hand screaming, “You are not 22 anymore! You are not 22 anymore! I won’t let you do this to yourself!” and then one other when she pulled out the tiniest halter top in the world and was like, “What Care Bear wore this?” and I said, “That’s the shirt I was wearing the night of my first kiss with Husband.” And she murmured what sounded a lot like “what a skank” under her breath, before acquiescing that it could be filed under emotional wardrobe keepers.  (That and the fact there is no danger of me wearing it even inside the home because it looks like it came directly from Gap Kids and I look like I came directly from the 4^th of July hot dog eating contest on Coney Island.)

By the end of the evening, I had FOUR bags to donate and two to toss out. I had one veto left (I wouldn’t let her throw my favorite plaid pants away nor a pair of sassy corduroys) and I had only howled in agony twice (you guys, I rocked that jean skirt, I rocked it! And who DOESN’T own a pair of culottes?). Then Jolly hung up all of my keepers in order of sleeve length and color. I gazed at my “new” wardrobe in reverence, and I had to admit, I was better for it. I mean, sure, maybe Jolly didn’t have to drive her point home by yelling, or “For the love of- people your age HAVE children they don’t DRESS like them.” or “Don’t you DARE even try that ON!” But then again, Jolly also didn’t have to kindly say, “I don’t think that’s the silhouette you want to be going for” when perhaps someone else might have barked, “Either suck it in or throw it out!” Regardless, what I have now is a sleeker, more refined wardrobe, and I wouldn’t have been able to do that on my own.

And you too, can have your very own Jolly Loot experience through your second readers. They need to be trusted to dive into your manuscript and tell you that sure,  maybe you could bounce a quarter off of some sections,  but you would lose a buck seventy- five in others.  But you must, you MUST, choose your readers wisely. No frenemies allowed. You need someone who firmly yet lovingly sets you straight that no, neon is NOT the new black, but they don’t feel that they are losing any of their worth by telling you so.  

Sometimes, those who you thought were your “besties” can turn angry and resentful when your star starts to rise while theirs still lies gently among the reeds. There is no way anyone could have doled out the tough love like Jolly did, but even when she was verbally berating me, I knew she was doing it for my own good, and I never once thought she was secretly making me keep all of the clothes that are too tight or out of style in order to make herself feel better. The frenemies  may quietly and almost unknowingly sabotage the confidence, and in some cases even the execution, of your manuscript in order to alleviate some of the ache at watching your success.  This is pretty pathetic, but occurs more often than one might think.

All in all, you need to make sure that whoever is reading your work is there to make your manuscript the sleekest, most streamlined it can be, who doesn’t let you get away with anything, and who is almost freaky in their determination to watch you succeed, as in the case of a very spooky text I received in the middle of the day on a Saturday afternoon:

What did I tell you?!?! Take that off.

And I did. And I am better for it.

 

 

 

Comments

[Maria]

Ah Babs, you make it sound so easy. :>) But FINDING someone willing to read a manuscript is hard enough. Finding someone who has a large enough reading experience to understand editing/critiquing? As impossible as fitting into gap kid clothing!!! Maybe HARDER.

There are a lot of people that will read a manuscript, but most of them are casual readers. Newbie writers are the worst critiquers in the world (this would be like having your husband tell you what to keep in your closet--full of suggestions, most of them having nothing to do with actual manuscript, but well-meant, really.)

One of the hardest things to find is a good reader. And that's probably true after the book is published too.

:>)

P.S. You should have kept the jean skirt!!!!!!

[Bryon Quertermous]

Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha.

Cullots.

Yes. I went to a private school all through elementary and junior high. Most of my early, formative crushes involved cullotes.

[Annette]

Thanks for a fun blog today.

[Lauren]

I like it. Next time I send a chapter to my trusty proofreader, I'm going to say "Any skorts in here? Was that third paragraph too mu-mu?"

Skorts is the new term for adverb overuse. Spread the word.

[Elizabeth Spann Craig]

Oh, I like skorts!

Good point here about making sure of your reader's motivation when you give them your ms to proofread. That's why I'm a bit leery of critique groups...

Elizabeth
http://mysterywritingismurder.blogspot.com/

[www.google.com/accounts/o8/id?id=AItOawl_t-oNjfse9HmDs_ZPdl6cYPysIwDTF6A]

My children wear skirts with built in shorts because they are 7 and 4 and apt to flash their Little Mermaid underwear at everyone if you ask if they like Ariel.

I'm hoping you are past that stage in your life. Sit like a lady. Keep your legs crossed (at the ankle please). And keep your Vicky's Secret choices a secret from the rest of the office... there's no need for skorts!

@ Maria- It's a critique group you need! Try critiquecircle.com, or Google critique group. Or check out the local library or university and see if they have a writer's group active. Everyone needs beta-readers.

[Abby Zidle]

Neon is too the new black. Hmmph.