Stirring the Pot (10 page)

Kanye West really is God’s gift to the planet. Need I say more?

If you’ve ever tried to pitch a concept—whether it’s for a movie, a TV show, an ad campaign, a book, a magazine article, or an innovative line of flea-repellent dog sweaters (and that list is not in order of importance)—you know that getting green-lighted depends largely on your ability to persuade. (That eggnog latte creamer pitch must have been off-the-charts persuasive, huh? See
this page
.)

On the face of it, what makes something persuasive is hard to put your finger on. Sure, you know when you’ve seen or heard it, or have
been
persuaded, but most people think it’s like charisma: either you’ve got the capacity for it or you don’t. Or you might argue that how much money you’re asking to borrow or how much risk you’re asking your “audience” to take raises the stakes for persuasiveness (or changes them). But here’s what I know from winging my way through more than a couple of pitch meetings (except for the flea-repellent dog sweaters, I’ve pitched everything above multiple times): no matter the stakes, the interrelated qualities of a clear vision and your conviction in it will win almost anyone over.

Clear vision involves both a well-articulated big-picture goal and a breakdown of the specific steps it’ll take to get there. Conviction means you have faith in your own idea, confidence in your mission. Conviction
usually comes to you once you’ve done the hard work of honing your vision; convince yourself first and others will follow. (I suppose conviction can be faked, but like with an orgasm, you really only ever fool the fools, and who wants to be in bed—business or the real thing—with a fool?)

Now, all this probably makes sense to you in the context of business ventures or investments, right? But let me get all Oprah on you for a minute and plant this idea in your mind: developing goals and having faith in them is the
business of life
.

Being able to articulate what makes you tick and what you want out of your time on this planet (and what you don’t) is, I think, the foundation ingredient in a life well lived.

In my fantasy—see the next chapter—I am now sitting in for Oprah, so here I will pause and then look at the camera meaningfully, dropping my jaw as if to say, “Yeah, I’m blown away by this concept, too!” Eventually I’ll tell the audience, “Wow. Don’t go anywhere. When we come back we’ll talk about how to take the next step. Be right back, back in a minute …”

Cue commercials for Viagra, Motrin, and Gerber life insurance
.

“…  And we’re back! We’re talking today about the profound idea that setting goals and developing confidence
in them is the key to life. Have I persuaded you to give this a try? Are you totally chomping at the bit to get started? Good! Let’s take this back down to earth and get real.”

(Okay, I’ll stop with the guest-hosting-on-
Oprah
fantasy because it’s clearly working only for me and is probably starting to annoy you. But I can’t help sharing that even that little departure into my dream life has left me feeling refreshed and energized and ready to share more.)

I recommend three strategies for this life work:

This is pretty much what you think it is. It’s a you-haiku. It’s how you see yourself in a description that would fit on a business card. If you were trying to launch a brand, this would be your slogan. If you were trying to describe yourself at a job interview, this would be the convincing (but not cheesy) summary of your skills and drive. This twenty-words-or-less mission statement will launch the business or life of your dreams. But it’s also the hardest twenty words you’re ever going to have to write. And rewrite, and rewrite.
Because it often only comes to you after you’ve filled several garbage cans with crumpled-up sketches of the idea/​event/​feeling you are trying to sell (or sell to yourself).

The mistake most people make here is to try to pack too much information into what is supposed to be a very simple message. Keep at it and keep testing how genuine it sounds when you say it out loud. Too bullshitty and it’ll never play. Strive to use adjectives that are colorful but not over the top (and definitely don’t use big words!). Stay the hell away from office-speak like “synergy” and “win-win.”

You’ve just stepped onto an elevator and find yourself alone with the CEO of your company, the producer you really want to work with, or the person who could make the decision to fund the nail salon of your dreams (or, if you are a deeply good soul, the person who is in charge of picking the director of that orphanage in Haiti you’ve been dying to work in). You have two minutes to state your case with enough detail that you will intrigue and impress but not so much that the other person doesn’t want to hear or see more. When
the elevator reaches the ground floor, you’re shit out of time and luck. Be succinct, but be memorable. Don’t step in too close—the last thing you want is for your “audience” to be pinned to the wall and desperate to get away from your enthusiasm.

If someone gave you a microphone and a stage and said, “Go ahead, talk about your hot, hot self for twenty minutes,” what would you tell your audience? Because that’s really what TED talks do, right? The TED folks invite people from all walks of life to come and tell the paying audience why they or their thoughts or their research or their humor is
special
. Plus, I hear they coach you and give you guidelines on making your presentation of your specialness even more special. Twenty fabulously long minutes to blow your wad
and
the assistance of someone whose job it is to help you not make a fool of yourself or bore your audience? I’ve got to get me some of that! Of course, no one can really coach you out of being a pompous jackass or a self-satisfied prick.

Everyone has a favorite TED talk (or a new favorite every week), and I’ll admit that I’ve become a fan of a
number of them, too. The one from several years ago by that neuroscientist who narrates the experience of having a stroke was pretty amazing. This was a major stroke (she couldn’t walk or talk for many years afterward), but she knew enough about how the brain works to be aware of what was happening to her, even as she was slowly losing function. Her TED talk replays her thought process. I’m guessing she persuaded every last person in the room (not to mention countless online viewers since) that she was reliving the stroke for the first time on that stage. She was not only passionate but believable. She was herself, and not overly studied or practiced. Her story was structured (she was in command even when she was acting out how it felt to be out of control), but it seemed like she was kind of, well, improvising. My hero. We should all be that relaxed and confident and interesting after the worst thing in the world has happened to us. Practice makes perfect!

Call it visualization or call it fantasy—all I know is that being able to dream about what you want in life is a great way to begin to make it happen. Remember the complicated brain blah-blah I mentioned I’d read about in
Psychology Today
at my gyno? Well, that applies here, too—apparently if you can visualize, fantasize, or dream it in detail, you pave some kind of neurological access to the experience again.

Athletes know this, too—they visualize running the race, hitting the ball, sinking the basket, or making the putt, and then when they go to do the thing in real life, sometimes the memory of doing it successfully kicks in and twitches their muscles or tweaks their aim and they pass an opponent, hit the home run, dunk the ball, or win the tournament.

Sounds to me like it can’t hurt to daydream! Which is such good news, because I just love it when something I already do anyway is proven not only to
not
be
a waste of time but even to be beneficial. Here’s hoping science will soon prove the usefulness of my nail biting.

I think that every woman needs to have a handful of excellent daydreams in her mental file cabinet. Three to five should do it, and on a range of topics, so that you can pull them out and escape to a happy place during long car or plane rides, boring theater productions, tedious dates, bad sex, or lectures from your boss.

One daydream/fantasy should feature you in your dream job (see the me-subbing-for-Oprah fantasy in the last chapter). Picture the scenario in superdetail. Ask yourself:

Where would you work?

Me: On Oprah’s old show; I’d be her stand-in and sometime co-host. I wouldn’t have to be at the studio
every
day, but she’d trust me with the trickiest topics and interviews.

How would you get there?

Me: Limo, natch!

What would your office look like?

Me: Attached private bath (see my sex fantasy on
this page
, and my feelings about stylish modern plumbing,
this page
).

What would you wear to work?

Me: Whatever I want. I’d have a wardrobe budget.

How would you treat your employees?

Me: We’d all totally love each other, have the utmost respect for each other, and know the unique and perfect gift for each other at Christmas.

(Though it will be tempting to also imagine if your parents would be proud of you in this new, dreamy work role, resist the urge to go there. There is no room for mommy or daddy issues at this party!)

Another daydream should feature you standing up for yourself. The authority you tell to stick it could be your childhood nemesis, your boss, or the dentist whose lectures about flossing you’re really getting tired of. This fantasy is fun—you might find that you can get really carried away in it. You can adjust the script every time, but there’s something about having the plot sorted out in advance that I just know will help you someday live the same story line. Escape regularly into this happy scene and you may start to become the ballsy and confident woman you see in it.

Last but most important, one or more should definitely
be about crazy-hot sex with whoever makes you wet just thinking about him.
People
’s “Sexiest Man of the Year” is an obvious place to start, but conjure up whoever does it for you and slow the scene down so you can picture every single touch, stroke, moan, and bark.

If you’re happily married or in a committed relationship, I assure you that having fantasy sex with someone other than your partner is not cheating. And I assure you that he does it, too. No one needs to know; you don’t need to confess it to him (unless of course you want to do a role-play thing with costumes later).

One warning: done right, this fantasy will leave you with the urge to go finish things off in private, so try to indulge in it when you have a lockable bathroom and/or your vibrator nearby.

After you’ve been married awhile you think your single friends have it made.
You
get home from work and have to do the lion’s share of the meal planning, dish scrubbing, and laundry folding. You can’t seem to find any of that work-life balance everyone is talking about. And you have to brush your hair and teeth
every single day
to be a semi-presentable spouse.

Meanwhile, you’re sure that the singles are eating and laughing in fabulous restaurants with a new interesting man every week. When they choose to stay in, at least they only have to deal with their own mess. Any balancing act they have to do is made so much easier by not having to factor someone else into the equation. You remember it fondly (and inaccurately).

Of course, when you’ve been single longer than you’d like, you start to want the “guaranteed” stability of marriage. No more having to audition for strangers, no more having to hold your farts back in bed. Someone
to share the balancing act with. You want a 50/50 partnership and the meaningful, mutually supportive conversations that your married friends are surely having in the calm of their clean, organized homes
every single night
.

The grass is always greener.

In some circles, being a single mom is some kind of evil syndrome, a status to be avoided at all costs—even the costs of staying in a bad marriage. But I get the feeling that some of my married mom friends
envy
my single motherhood. Do they really think my lack of a husband gives me loads of extra time for Evan or for myself (which is the order of priorities for moms everywhere, no matter what the airlines tell us about tending to our own oxygen mask first)? Ha! Look up any of the following terms in the dictionary and I’ll bet there’s a picture of a single mom in the margin: “winging it,” “improvising,” “juggling balls,” “dropping balls,” “hanging on by a thread.”