PROLOGUE

—and here’s newsletter number one!

I hope this finds its recipients well—or managing, at least. I can appreciate it being difficult to stay upright when the general atmosphere of the world is heavy.

Spring is in the air, and with it, new opportunities and shifting circumstances. I’ve been curious: do I happen to know anyone connected to environmental law? I’ve been looking for Ways to Live a Meaningful Life, and given, for one thing, the threat the national parks are under, my hope is to learn more about how I can protect the nature I love.

I was immensely fortunate, in my travels last summer, to have explored a number of national parks across the country; their loss would be absolutely devastating, to the country’s literal landscape and to its cultural identity, as well.

Please drop a comment—or reach out to me directly—for more about that.

For now, folks… here’s Art and Craft.

ART

Don’t say—do.

In making this newsletter, I want to make sure that I don’t substitute writing about writing for actual writing.

Research by Peter Gollwitzer, a professor of psychology at New York University, and his colleagues has indicated that announcing a goal, and getting feedback on said announcement, satisfies our drive to actually accomplish that goal, and can make us less likely to pursue it.

It’s part of why I fear teaching as a lifepath, particularly early on—I worry that talking about reading and writing and teaching it will make me feel like “I’m a writing teacher who is cool and can talk about writing,” rather than compelling me to learn more about writing and always approach with curiosity. I feel the same thing can happen with podcasters, media people, etc. I feel like it often does, although such a feeling is inevitably, at this scale, anecdotal. Have you seen the type? The “armchair expert”?

When I write about art, as with this newsletter, I want it to start conversations, help me reflect, and inspire me to connect with more writers, rather than give me any false sense of “I am a writer because I write about writing.” My hope is that writing about writing will inspire me to do more writing, rather than sit back on some rather sparse laurels.

So to enshrine a commitment to writing instead of just writing about writing, I've included a selection from a new screenplay I started over the past month–you can find it here. It’s intended to be a goofy, anime-style action show that reflects my love of language. My hope is that if it doesn’t eventually get traction in an animated format, its word-admiring nature will allow me to produce it independently as a shonen-esque podcast.

As of last night at the time of this edition's publication, I have finished the first draft of this pilot. Onward to revisions!

CRAFT

The joy of being a connoisseur.

I’ve begun to consider myself a connoisseur of hot chocolate.

Being a connoisseur is wonderful because, when channeled for positive social energy, it deepens one’s enjoyment of something they love, allows them to engage with it in a rich fashion, and encourages them to seek detail and appreciate technique.

My love of hot chocolate has not been purely self-serving—it has created an avenue for me to share something I love with friends and to develop a niche I have confidence in sharing.

Though the “Expert” element of its definition indicates mastery, I think the title can be self-qualified; only you, after all, know what you like best, and you are entirely free to develop your own standards based on what you enjoy—otherwise they wouldn’t be your standards. Does this kind of mastery render anyone the end-all for their interest of choice? Probably not. But the point is that people develop a knowledge of something they love, not that they impose that knowledge on others whose preferences and interests don’t align.

Feeling competent is just good for someone. Choosing something to be an expert in gives someone the chance to develop subject knowledge or capability and benefit from the resulting increase in self-esteem. Cultivating a deep fascination with something allows for someone to connect with others over that thing—perhaps the most important function of connoisseurship.

The past few months, I've channeled my connoisseurship prosocially in order to host a series of Hot Chocolate Walk ‘n’ Talks, where I've leveraged my appreciation of the titular drink to meet friends at places around Manhattan to enjoy something together. These events have brightened my winter and given me the chance to spend more time with friends I love, as well as reconnect with others I haven't had the chance to see in a long time. I’ve chosen something I love and organized social events around it, and now my friends have enjoyed a variety of hot chocolates alongside me. They’ve begun to develop informed hot chocolate preferences of their own!

On top of that, my own hot chocolate-making techniques has improved: among the more flattering things I’ve heard recently was that friends—with their new expertise—have said my homebrew iteration of the drink was the best they’ve tasted. I can't think of a better way to enjoy something than to share it with people you care about.

Wishing you warmth as we close out this winter.

—

Michael