by Laurie Wagner | Jul 1, 2014 | Blog
“Come on Gal! Hit the ball! God dammit!” This is the sound of my 77-year-old Mother shouting at herself during her tennis lesson this morning. “No! No! No!” she screams as she slams the racquet into the ball. “Move it!” she shouts, rushing to the net. She’s not actually playing with anyone, just hitting with Dan, the pro, an easy going guy in his early 60’s who stands at the net hitting balls to my Mom. “Suzy,” he says, lobbing her another ball, “if you do all the talking I’ll have nothing to teach you.” My Mother is hardcore. She’s broken her nose three times in adulthood – twice on the baseball field while playing catcher – and once when an apple fell on it when she was up in a tree. She brings her mitt to the Dodger’s games, and has actually caught the ball three times. She’s nobody’s fool, doesn’t mince words. A couple of years ago I was Christmas shopping for her and she called me as I was entering the mall. “I’m just about to go into Chico’s to find a nice holiday gift for you,” I said sweetly. “Chicos!” she shouted! “Don’t you dare get me anything from fucking Chicos!” She got a lovely pumpkin colored jacket from fucking Chico’s that year and she wears it all the time. Back on the court I’m kind of astounded that she’s so rough with herself. “What if you shouted ‘YES” instead of “NO” when you hit the ball,” I suggest, ever the positive thinker. “Maybe you wouldn’t...
by Laurie Wagner | Jul 8, 2012 | Blog
This post was inspired by watching a number of my students sink after what they considered a less-than-stellar session of writing. It is dedicated to them and to anyone who makes things: art, stories, pie. It is a note to the part of ourselves that gets frustrated when we don’t create something we like – when we wonder what the hell we were thinking when we picked up that pen or that paintbrush or that pastry dough. This is my take on the creative process, and what it means to humble ourselves to where we are and not judge, because judging is not an accurate or interesting measure of much, except this moment and then the next moment – which is kind of like reporting the weather – which, as we know, is always changing. So much of what I know about this I learned (and continue to learn) on the racquetball court. Here, there are plenty of moments – some excellent and others totally doggy – that could paint a picture about my success or failure as a player. But if I were to hold on to every good and bad shot I make in a game, and judge what kind of player I am based on each shot, I’d be a mess on the court. I would never make it to 15 points. It’s easy to feel great when you’re playing well or writing well, but when you’re not, that’s where the rubber meets the road and you are challenged to practice getting comfortable with discomfort. And it’s odd, but my favorite part of the game lately...
