Writer. Weight-lifter. Book reviewer. Witty conversationalist.

Yep, we’re talking about Josh Hanagarne, author of World’s Strongest Librarian.

Last week, I wrote about WSL as my new fabulous find. And, Josh was gracious enough to let me guest post my review of Mental Floss on his site.

This week, I’m grateful that he agreed to do an interview with me to share with all of you. We chatted about Josh’s work and insights, as well as his cool views on a variety of cultural topics, keeping true to the TJCC mission.

Lots of gratitude flowing here. Which I love.

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Laura: How cool is this? I get to interview one of my favorite bloggers of all time. Now I get to ask you a question that’s been on my mind all week: if you were a vegetable, which one would you be?

Josh: First of all, how long have you been reading blogs? My blog is only four months old. “Of all time” might be a little premature. We’ll talk later and I’ll give you some examples of blogs that are much better.

Now then, if I were a vegetable, I’d probably be a big long onion. Questionable odor, foe of vampires, brings just about everyone to tears, multi-layered but gets less interesting as you go, and the onion’s debatable good qualities get way more press than they deserve.

Laura: You and I both like to write book reviews. Can you remember – and share with us – the worst book you’ve ever read?

Josh: There are different types of worst. Hatred is a many-splendored thing. Let’s talk about the actual experience of being miserable while reading a book first.

In this sense, I hate Ulysses by James Joyce. It’s not the worst book I’ve ever read. In fact, it’s a book I greatly admire in terms of scope, breadth, linguistic ingenuity, and of course Joyce’s ambition was incredible. There’s a reason that Ulysses took as long to write as it did.

If you listen to the audio, it’s pure music. I literally believe that every word in that book is perfectly placed next to the words before and after it. It really sings on audio.

That said, nothing feels more miserable to me than reading Ulysses. I took ten cracks at it over as many years and when I finally finished it…to say that it was a hollow victory would be to say cooked carrots are cotton candy.

So I can admire it but really still not want much to do with it.

Then there’s Worst as in “This book just sucks on every level and I can prove it both as a recovering English major with formidable critical skills, and I can also sense it as a pure novice from the very first sentence.”

That dubious honor goes to Flowers In The Attic and every heinous abomination that followed. I used to love Black Beauty for many of the same reasons that kids love Harry Potter today. They both start with an innocent being mistreated, and then things get better. That’s the payoff.

In V.C. Andrews strange little world, nothing ever gets better for the kids. Worse, worse, worse…and then to top it all off, your brother has impregnated you and you have to battle your mother in her rotting wedding dress. And so on.

I ate them up as a kid. I’d rather eat an onion than read one today. And for what it’s worth, the writing sucks. There are nearly as many exclamation points in every book as there are words.

Laura: Something that I’m struggling with lately is how to stay organized. I’ve been reading a lot about different kinds of planners, calendars, notebooks, etc. How do you keep organized with your blog, and all of the other things you have going on?

Josh: I’m a sucker for gadgets and systems. The problem is, most of them don’t work for me and I don’t need them. I like to over complicate things. So do most people. We call it innovation and pat ourselves on the back, but most of the time we’re just trying to invent things and improve things to say, “I’m so cool.”

That said, I will scream about Todoodlist until someone cuts my tongue out. It works and it is the greatest non-invention of all time. I say non-invention because Nick Cernis has just taken us back to common sense. With a mere pencil and paper, I’m no longer forgetting things and I’m as organized as I’ve ever been.

I’m running a contest revolving around Todoodlist over on the blog if you’re interested. It involves scandalous dancing and short shorts. But be warned! I’m the one wearing the short shorts.

Laura: Alright here’s a tough one. You know that I take singing classes so I must know who your favorite singer is. Just one. Ok, maybe two. Please don’t say Michael Bolton.

Josh: Funny you should mention Monsieur Bolton. My Tourette’s has made me an insomniac for about 15 years. And to make matters worse, I’ve got the worst, stickiest memory for lyrics that you’ve ever seen. I can watch a movie and memorize the lyrics in the soundtrack without even realizing it until it’s 3 AM and I can’t sleep.

My mom used to love Michael Bolton. I’ve spent a lot of long nights with “Steel Bars” running through my head. That and all the lyrics to Please Hammer, Don’t Hurt ‘em. I can recite them in order without hearing the album. I could do it right now, in fact.

My real favorites all come down to lyrics. I usually like sad music more than happy, but I’m talking about real sadness, not the new guys in the fro-hawks yelling about the walls closing in and screaming “Why?” all the time.

I love Nick Cave when I’m in the right mood, but that mood doesn’t come along too often. About 80% of Chris Cornell does me just right. I love Tori Amos when I’m feeling gentle and meek and want someone to cuddle me and say “There there my darling.”

Bob Dylan. The first decade of Leonard Cohen. Eva Cassidy. I used to be a metal head and I still like the heavy stuff when I workout, so I’m spinning Slayer, Mudvayne, and Slipknot almost every day as well. But I can’t identify with those guys anymore.

Laura: You and your wife just celebrated an anniversary – congratulations! Can you give us any secrets to a good partnership? I’m know for sure there are a bunch of readers wondering if the guy (or girl) wearing a fanny pack on a blind date is all there is out there. (I think I just gave too much away about me, so back to you).

Josh: I thought we had dated before!

Seriously, I think a good, strong, loving partnership—whether it’s marriage or not—comes from two people who don’t need each other deciding to throw their lots together to become more than they could ever be alone. That’s what’s happened with Janette and I.

If you read Don Quixote (which is in my top four) you get the exact opposite of what love and strength really are. I don’t think anything is less healthy than convincing yourself that you truly can’t live without another person, that you can’t be happy unless your every deed is to please someone else.

Chaucer and Spenser and all those old-timers called it “courtly love.” I call it a sad sickness. Co-dependency isn’t what creates strength in a partnership. But it’s not going away. Co-dependency is now rivaling wishful thinking and baseball for America’s favorite pastime.

Laura: On the most serious note, you know how much I love your site and your witty, creative writing. A lot of us, whether writers or just people who want to get their own projects off the ground, are always looking to improve – or just get off the couch. Can you share a couple of things that have worked for you?

Josh: Most importantly: Keep it fun or you won’t keep it. Blogs are not life and death. They’re just one more thing that everyone takes way too seriously.

Most importantly part two: it’s easy to say “I want to do that” or “I wish my blog was doing better” or “I’ll make time tomorrow.” It’s also easy to feel like you’re working when you’re reading other people’s blogs.

I’m researching! Sure…

There’s a time for that, but listen, please! I complained for years not getting a novel finished while managing to read every book about writing that has been published.

I believe that if something is really important to you, you need to do it every day. If your project is taking a backseat to the couch, I’d say that you’re making the couch your priority and you need to quit wringing your hands.

Good or bad, when it comes to our goals, most of us are getting exactly what we deserve. We’re under ceilings of ours own making (I stole that from someone who commented on my blog).

And write for yourself first. Be genuine and an audience will reward your efforts if you plug away for a while. And if the readers don’t come, what’s the worst-case scenario? Then you know which way the wind’s blowing, so crawl out from under your own expectations and go do something fun for yourself that makes better use of your talents.

There is no type of writing I enjoy more than when I can tell the author had a blast writing it.

Keep it fun or you won’t keep it.

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Josh, what can I say? You simply rock. I’m excited to delve into the world of onions. But truly, I’m psyched you took the time to share your thoughts with us.

And yes, I’ve been reading blogs for awhile now, but I revise the “favorites” list often. And WSL is in the top 10.

For more on Josh and what he’s up to, take a trip over to World’s Strongest Librarian. I’m a subscriber, so I never miss a post. Phew.

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A guest post by Kristin Bair O’Keeffe. You can follow Kristin on Twitter.

Two weeks ago, I went for my weekly foot massage at a small but charming parlor in the French Concession in Shanghai. After soaking my feet in a steaming herbal bath, giving my neck and shoulders a good rub, #28 set to work. (The young masseurs and masseuses in Shanghai spas are referred to by numbers instead of names; at first asking for “number 4” or “number 16” is a little disconcerting for those of us from countries in which individuality is paramount, but you get used to it.)

As always, during the first few minutes of the massage, my toes were ticklish. I jerked and jittered as #28 began his work. Shanghai is a huge city with a population of nearly 20 million people. It’s loud, stinky in the summertime heat, and fast.

At the end of each week—after jostling for space on sidewalks, surviving at least three near-death-experiences with careening vehicles, and trying to wrap my head around the ever-increasing number of construction sites that sprout up daily—I am emotionally ready for my foot massage. My body, on the other hand, takes a little while to relax.

About thirty minutes into the massage, #28 pressed on a spot on the arch of my left foot. I yelped and nearly leapt out the chair. I learn a lot of my new vocabulary words in Mandarin from the masseurs in Shanghai, but I didn’t need one right then. Yelping is part of a universal vernacular.

#28 shook his head. “Wèi,” he said. Stomach. Then “Wèitòng.” Stomachache. He was quite serious and very concerned.

I shook my head back at him. “Méi you.” Meaning no, I didn’t have a stomachache. As far as I knew, my stomach was fine.

But #28 was confident I was having stomach problems. To prove it, he leaned forward and pressed a spot near the bend in my arm. It felt as if he’d buried a knife in me. “Geez,” I said in English, “that hurt.”

#28 nodded sagely, as did #9 who was working on my husband’s back.

As #28 moved on to other parts of my foot, I whispered to my husband, “This is why I love China.” And it is. There are lots of reasons on any given day that I get frustrated with life in Shanghai, but my weekly foot massage takes the sting out of many of them.

In addition to increasing my Mandarin vocabulary, during each massage I learn a little bit more about Chinese culture, belief systems, and the individuals who work on my feet. I also get to share a little bit of me; I answer questions about speaking English, life in America, and my experiences as a foreigner in China.

As I sat back to enjoy the rest of the massage, I considered the fact that within days I was going to have stomach trouble. These guys were never wrong. Each time they tell me that something is going on with my body (even things unbeknownst to me), they’re right. I’m no expert on the science behind foot massage, but after three and a half years in Shanghai, I know a few things:

1) like everything else in China, foot massage dates back a long, looonnnggg time (some claim as far back as 3000 BC, and though I’ve no proof, I wouldn’t doubt it)

2) the belief is that every organ in the body is connected to a specific point in the foot and that a person can be made well and healthy via foot massage

3) foot massage feels unbelievably good (even when it hurts)

4) even if you don’t believe that it will cure your cold or skin allergies, a good foot massage will relax you

(Three days after #28’s diagnosis, my stomach unleashed its fury. I’m heading back for another massage today.)

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Kristin Bair O’Keeffe is a writer, writing instructor, and cultural spelunker. She has been living in Shanghai, China since April 2006. Make sure to check out more about Kristin and her adventures on her blog. To find out more about Kristin’s novel, Thirsty, click here.

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Post written by Christa Avampato. You can follow Christa on Twitter.

“If you want a happy ending, that depends, of course, on where you stop your story.” – Orson Welles

Last week I was featured on Daily Worth, a site that provides advice, tips, and information to help women better manage their finances. Amanda Steinberg, the founder of the site, asked me to write an article that showcased the more vulnerable side of money management.
I suggested that I write a piece about what it’s like to grow up in a family that doesn’t have much money and then become an adult who has a stable financial life. I’m fascinated by the psychology of money and thought this would be a perfect opportunity to explore the subject. How does growing up with no money affect our view of money as an adult?

I wrote the post with some difficulty. How could I create an arc that has a positive spin at the end? How do I talk about my childhood honestly without sounding “whoa is me” and how do I talk about my current financial stability without sounding like I’ve got it all figured out (because I certainly don’t). How do I remain strong, even while discussing my own vulnerability?

Taking these questions into consideration, I sent Amanda a post I was really happy with and was surprised at her response.

“This is a precious piece and it’s impeccably written…I am not 100% sold on your conclusion…I’m just left wanting to see a little more conflict. There’s almost something too perfect in the way you’ve wrapped it all up. So, can you do an alternate ending, perhaps one that shows a little more vulnerability? Show that you’re a little less perfect?”

I was speechless at first – a rare occasion. Did she really just call my piece precious? I’ve spent my whole life perfecting my craft, perfecting me. And I’m not there by a long shot! And even if I was, who gets to perfection and then says, “No, let me make myself a little less perfect.” I was stumped on this one.Then I took a deep breath and emailed Laura immediately (of course!)

What was I supposed to do with this feedback? Then I reminded myself that feedback in any form is part of being a writer, and all I had to do was listen to see if the feedback had some merit. If I’m going to be a writer and I want an editor, then I had better get off my soapbox and at least try to take the note to see if it actually improves my work.

While it was painful to eek out an alternative ending, it made for a much more solid piece. I still can’t read it out loud without tearing up. Perhaps that’s the way to tell when writing really gets to the heart.

I didn’t consciously realize how the psychology of money, set when I was a child, has profoundly impacted me to this day. I have been working for years to wrap up all my insecurities and concerns with a bright shiny red bow. And then I took that package, stuffed it into the back of my mind, and went on with my life. While on some level that makes my life today easier than it was when I was younger, never articulating all my concerns, resolved or not, didn’t allow others to learn from my experience.

I was cheating my readers by giving them a perfect ending. Really it’s much more valuable to give them me, whole and imperfect. Amanda pushed me to get at what’s been living in my subconscious for a very long time. It’s not an easy thing to do, and it’s not an easy thing to ask someone else to do.

After sending Amanda the changed ending she wrote me this note:

“Yes. Now you have it. Now I have tears in my eyes. Now you’re not perfect any more and we can all relate and support one another… Awesome.”

Amanda asked me to take a long, hard look at my deep-rooted fears and stare them down, for my benefit and for the benefit of anyone who reads the post. It takes courage to write honestly from the gut; it takes even more courage to edit honestly from the gut and ask people who give everything to give even more.

That’s what Amanda did, and I’m grateful to her for helping me find the truer, less perfect, and much improved alternative ending.

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