Thursday, April 19, 2012

And that's when I told her about my creative vagina NOW WITH A VERY IMPORTANT UPDATE

Conversation between my sister and me:

Jenni: So, how's the book coming?

Me: Oh, it's finally kind of coming together. I think it will be done--like all the way done--by the end of the summer. I can't describe to you how difficult this process is though.

Jenni: Um, I can imagine. With ADD, getting a novel into perfect form is probably like trying to climb a mountain with chopped off feet. And no rope. And two blind eyes.

Me: Exactly. It's breathtakingly difficult. It's funny though, because most authors talk about the editing phase like it's no big deal. Like in passing they're like "and then I rewrite my novels four or five times to work out the kinks, and the voila! I'm done!"

Jenni: Really?

Me: Yes. It's infuriating. For me this first re-write has absolutely been the most difficult part of the process, and maybe the hardest thing I've ever done in my life which is why it's taken years. Writing the meat of the book was easy. This? Is HARD. It's like writing the book was allowing a baby to gestate inside me for nine months and editing it and getting it perfect is like trying to push it through my creative vagina.

Jenni: Wait, you have a creative vagina?

Me: Yes. And currently I am pushing a novel through it. And I'm feeling the Ring of Fire. And there is tearing. And I've been in labor for a really long time. And I can't wait to get this baby out of me.

Jenni: Got it. So, just what does coitus look like for a creative vagina?

Me: A lot like conversation. Intellectual intercourse, if you will.

Jenni: I see.

Me: Actually, in the case of my book, I would have to say the moment of conception was while I was sitting in a grad school course on child therapy with a guest lecturer who was a lady in her 70's. Suddenly, the idea for my book hit me, and thus a creative zygote was brought into existence.

Jenni: So what you're saying is that you got knocked up by a gray-haired lady in grad school.

Me: Exactly. And now I'm pushing our book-baby through my creative vagina. And it hurts.

 "Welcome to class, young man. It will be my pleasure to impregnate you. With a book-baby."

Jenni: Oddly, this is actually a really good metaphor. I totally get what you are saying.

Me: Wait, so you aren't mad at me that I compared finishing a book to being in labor and pushing a baby through a tearing vagina?

Jenni: No way. I would be horrified if you thought that. I frequently hate on my own sex for that kind of thing.

Me: Oh? What do you mean?

Jenni: Like all those girls who are like "Oh no you di-iiiin't just compare something to giving birth." I hate that. I think it's petty and short-sighted and not empathetic.

Me: But, isn't it like one of the hardest things ever?

Jenni: Absolutely. I've done it twice. Once without meds. But it's not like I think it's the only hard thing that can happen to a person. I think that comparing finishing a novel with ADD to pushing a baby through a vagina is an apt metaphor, not on affront on women.

Me:  I always knew I loved you.

Jenni: Listen, I love being a woman. But sometimes we are ridiculous and very territorial over our labor pains. That's all I'm saying.

Me:  I'm pretty sure I'm going to put this conversation on my blog.

Jenni: That's fine. Just so long as you emphasize that I am not offended by what you were saying about your creative vagina. Because if people got the impression I was that type of woman, that would offend me.

Me: Deal.

And thus, I successfully compared finishing my book to pushing a baby out of my tearing creative vagina, which then transformed into a conversation in which my sister hated on her sex and I didn't even get in trouble.

Aaaall in a day's work. 


Naturally I'm reading Jenny Lawson's new book "Let's Pretend This Never Happened" and naturally I love it because it is incredibly hilarious. However *spoiler alert* I just got to the part where she talks about telling her boss that she had a book inside her and that she needed to get it out, maybe through her vagina. I want to clarify that I HADN'T READ THAT PART WHEN I HAD THIS CONVERSATION WITH MY SISTER. NOR WHEN I WROTE THIS POST.

Of course, nobody needs to believe me.

But I know, deep within my creative vagina, that I speak the truth. And the truth will set me free.

Also, you should probably buy her book immediately.


  1. And this is why I love reading you. Too bad they don't have some sort of creative epidural for you. Epidurals are proof that there is a God and that he loves women.
    My friend and I keep trying to come up with acceptable Mormon vices but we keep striking out.

    Also, I frequently try to convince my husband that certain, sudden painful life events are the equivalent of getting junk punched. I think it's the same as what you're saying, only in reverse.

    1. Um, I just replied to you but I forgot to hit "reply" so it's the next comment below. I'm a genius. Clearly.

  2. Aw, thanks! Yeah, no epidurals for me. I think most people numb their creative vaginas at this point in the process with alcohol or drugs, or at very least coffee, but I'm kinda out of luck on all those fronts. I do get Ritalin, which helps when I remember to take it. Kind of.

    Oh yeah, the junk punch comparison completely works as a metaphor for sucker-punch life traumas. Glad you pointed that out, because it's totally true. Like how getting up after three hours of sleep this morning to teach seminary was like getting junk-punched. (See? So illustrative.)

    1. Oh, so that's what you feel like while teaching our class. Good to know.

    2. 1. Only after a night of only 3 hours of sleep. Normally it's amazing. 2. I didn't teach today. It was B. Johnson. And 3. Good morning sunshine. Just roll out bed? WHERE WE'RE YOU THIS MORNING??? (ps, first successful use of caps lock.)

    3. Why? Why is there an apostrophe? I hate typing on my phone, caps lock discovery notwithstanding.

  3. Nice! I love it!

    And good luck! I, too, have been editing my book for about a year's getting old. :)

    1. Ha thanks! And good luck to you, too! May our book-babies be born healthy, strong, and full of vigor. And may our creative vaginas fully recover.

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  5. I apologize in advance for the gratuitous reuse/abuse of this metaphor in times to come as I work through the design process of bringing software into existence time and again through my professional life.

    I will also apologize in advance that sometimes I will credit you for the metaphor, but I'm sure that sometimes I will not. It will really depend on peer pressure, my need to be cool at the moment, how the comparison is received and the status of our friendship at the time of perjury.

    However, the times I will credit you I will also put in a plug for your blog and give my peers an affiliate link to purchase your book such that I will make small coin on your labor (pun absolutely intended).

    All the same, this truly is masterful. You are the master of your creative vagina, as I hope to be come the master of mine.

    You can contract this beast from your creative womb!

    1. I have not copyrighted this metaphor, therefore it is yours to use freely. Although any credit, in tandem with a link to the post as well as a $37 payment, would be greatly appreciated.

      I will contract the beast! And it will be glorious! Or anticlimactic! But either way, it will be out!

  6. Oh my Mr. Weed. I hate to admit that I can completely relate. I am working on my own book that is HOPEFULLY an aid to overcoming depression/anxiety and other mental health issues from a church standpoint. As a person living with bipolar it's a constant tug-o-war fight to the death between "YaY I'm so excited to be doing this it's going to be the most amazing thing ever!" to "I hate this. I hate these stupid quotes, these evil people, and my depressing computer for taunting me with this project." I'm pretty much a combination between spongebob and eeyore.

    1. Well, that sounds like quite a roller coaster, for sure! I actually like both spongebob and eeyore, so I think if we knew each other irl we'd get along famously. Good luck on your project!

    2. Josh, I've got a question for you since you seem to have similar reactions to things as I do. When someone is having a hard time, it means that I'm having a hard time. Seriously. My friend emailed me to talk her way out of her depression, and I was able to share my similar experiences and how things helped me through. so far it seems to help her. I, on the other hand, am now obsessed with worrying about her life. How on earth do you ever make the separation?

    3. La Fille - Oversensitivity to others is common with bipolar. I have no answers to manage it. Just know you're not alone. I hope you can find a way to disengage to give yourself some peace. Good luck.

  7. I wish I could push a book out of my creative vagina.
    And your sister sounds awesome.

    1. Oh man. She is hilarious. I kind of wish I could make her into a post somehow and have everyone meet her.

  8. And THAT is why I keep coming back to your blog!! :)

    (BTW, your sister is awesome!)


    1. Ursula, I'm so glad you keep coming back. This place seriously just wouldn't be the same without you. I get excited whenever I see a comment from you--for realz.

  9. Sorry there is not a creative bone in the vagina, just a tubular structure that has amazing ability to stretch to accommodate the baby during the birthing process. The metaphor of comparing the difficulty of the editing process to child birth probably has some merit but the idea of a "creative vagina" just doesn't work for me. It's interesting how all our comparisons are reduced to some genders genitalia! Is this some Freudian thing or just crudity?

    1. Hi anonymous, I can't tell if you're serious or joking, so I'll go both directions.

      If you're joking: "creative bone" in the vagina! Ha! That's pretty clever. Also, yes, totally Fruedian.

      If you're serious: Thank you for explaining what a vagina is and how it, in its boneless stretchy state, assists in birth. I think you may have misunderstood what I mean by "creative vagina"--Not so much that I have a vagina with the ability to spontaneously create, but more that within the context of a labor-pain = editing metaphor, one would have a figurative vagina, and I'm referring to mine. As far as comparisons being reduced to people's junk being hurt, I don't think it's so much that it's Fruedian or crude as much as something that most people have visceral experience with and therefore an effective device at conveying the idea of true pain.

      That second one bored me so much I fell asleep three times while writing it. Sorry if it bored you, too, anonymous. I appreciate the comment either way!

  10. Haha, this was hilarious to read. You and your sister sound like you'd be a blast to hang out with.

  11. I'll bet your childhood dinnertime conversations were verrrrry interesting.

    Nothing but admiration for you from here. I promise.

  12. You might hate me for saying this, but Stephen King doesn't believe in editing. He thinks the way a story comes out on paper the first time is the way it's meant to be. Which is probably why all his books are pretty kooky, but hey, he's obviously doing something right since they've all been made into movies and everyone loves (or at least knows of) him.

    Of course, good luck getting your publisher to agree that your book needs no editing since Stephen King doesn't edit his. Unless you got Stephen King's publisher to publish your book! Problem solved! No more tearing of your creative vagina necessary! You can thank me on your dedication page.

  13. After reading this great post, I discovered that I knew there was a reason to love you! I've been reading The Bloggess for about a year now, but just discovered yours. I think yours is great! And the fact that you mentioned "Let's Pretend This Never Happened" made me love your blog even more! Thanks, Weed!

  14. Oh gosh, yes, writing a book IS like giving birth. Like giving birth, there is tears, sweat, and blood, and pain, and at the end of the finish product, you suddenly forget how crazy you were acting before and just go, "Awww, it's so beautiful!" I'm so glad I'm not the only weird one. I know I'm all late but I've been combing through your blog for awhile. Three of my fb friends recommended me to your blog, because I was feeling confusion and anger at Heavenly Father (I'm LDS btw) about giving man a trial such as homosexuality. I wrote a long status about it, and I got a lot of personal messages. I'm not lesbian myself, but I just thought it was unfair for a person to not be able to have the pursuit of happiness and live with someone they are sexually attracted to and love. And then I read you blog. It was like the clouds cleared and I saw the sun (dorky metaphor, but seriously). I read another man's story on, and coincidentally, his name is Josh too. He actually had a relationship with a man for several years, and had sexual intercourse with him as well. And he wasn't happy. He realized that day that living for the Lord made him happier then following his sexual impulses, so he stayed obedient and was celibate for a few years. And then the Lord blessed him with a wife, and to this day he says she is the only women he is sexually attracted to. He is deeply in love with his wife and they live happily together. I just want to say that I love your post, and I now understand what it is to be a homosexual, and that there is hope for LGBT community, whether they are in the church or not, and that you in this man (also named Josh, go figure) are living proof of that. You are just so cool dude! And you inspire me....I don't even know of what....but you just DO, lol. Anyway, I liked you page on fb and I will be keeping up with your awesome-sauce family. Sorry for the long comment, just want to know that you have made my day. :)