DO. NOT. REACT. Tips for surviving & mastering confrontation, with grace — in business & in love.

 

Pop quiz, people:

How do you drop an atom bomb of sudden, unexpected (and quite possibly, undesirable) information on someone you care about — without behaving like a cruel, dispassionate ogre?

AND!

If you’re the unfortunate recipient of the aforementioned atom bomb, how do you respond with compassion — instead of setting off a furious chain reaction?

To answer incendiary questions like these, we’re going to need a little professional help.

Enter: Tina Tessina, Ph.D, L.M.F.T. Psychotherapist, love & marriage counselor, bestselling author of eleven (!) books, and a frequent speaker, teacher & radio darling.

Ah, sweet serendipity.

I discovered Dr. Tessina about 8 years ago, whilst navigating the complexities (read: horrific, gut-wrenching, time-to-flee-the-country! END) of my first love affair.

I’ve evolved considerably since then, but I (still) love Tina’s all-heart, no drama approach to communication, intimacy and Grown-Up Love.

And today, we’re bringing you our combined communication powers . . . so that the next time you drop (or receive) a BOMB — in business or in love — you can respond like a sagacious adult, not a reactionary toddler. Ready? Read on . . .

If you’re the BOMB RECEIVER . . .

STEP 1: DO. NOT. REACT.

When the bomb drops, STOP. FREEZE. DO. NOT. REACT. Your body is raging with agitated neurotransmitters. You’re in full-force fight or flight mode, and you’re (literally) temporarily insane. You need to buy some time, to let your body recalibrate.

Tell your partner:

“You’ve given me a lot to think about. I need a little time to understand this. Let’s reconnect in (ten minutes / an hour / tomorrow / after I’ve spoken to my spirit guide). I’ll have some questions & thoughts, then.”

STEP 2: BE CURIOUS.

Once your body is back in intellectual reasoning mode, it’s time to ask questions — lots of ‘em. This is your opportunity to gather the information that you need to make a decision . . . and respond to the BOMB.

Try asking:

“Why do you want this change?” “What brought this up?” ”Have I upset you?”

AND! (most importantly)

“Is your mind entirely made up, or are you open to exploring other possibilities?”

STEP 3: AVOID (the dreaded) COMPROMISE.

By now, you’ve discovered the WHY behind your partner’s explosive declaration. So, it’s time to explore alternative solutions . . . with your combined creative powers.

Make a brainstorm-a-licious list of new options & what-ifs. Suspend logic (for a moment).
Be thoroughly ridiculous. Don’t scratch anything out . . . just yet.

BUT . . . be careful to avoid solutions that necessitate compromise (“I’m giving up something I cherish, so that YOU can get what you want”).

Aim, instead, for cooperation (“I want you AND me to both get what we want.”)

Compromise inevitably leads to resentment.
Cooperation, while not always ‘easy’, leads to much happier places.

NO MATTER WHAT . . .

Whether you’re the bomb dropper or the bomb dropee, remember that your first reaction to dramatic upheaval is generally your most explosive, your most childlike, and your most hurtful. Hit pause. Curl up. Cool down. Then respond . . . with as much compassion as you can muster.

Now: what if you’re on the other side of the explosion — and you’re the one DROPPING the bomb?

Head over to Tina Tessina’s blog to find a trio of communication tips for those times when you’re the one dropping the big (and not-so-fun) announcement.

And for more insights on creative problem-solving in relationships — and cooperation vs. compromise — visit TinaTessina.com, and grab a copy of Dr. T’s book, How To Be A Couple & Still Be Free.
 
 
 
 
 
 

Read More lifescripts // what-ifs

For all the beautiful young writers & artists trying to ‘figure it all out’ . . .

 

I’ve gotten a lot of emails over the past week from aspiring writers & artists, future architects & engineers. College students. Recent grads. Chronologically young, or simply young at heart.

People trying, desperately, to figure it all out. Y’know — life, love, work, livelihood, the universe . . .
and everything.

And everyone seems to be bare-knuckle boxing with some variation of the very same question:

“How do I figure out what I want to be when I grow up?”

Well. May I remind you that nobody knows what’s going to rick your roll, rock your socks, flip your system & secure your future. Nobody. It’s your job — your central quest, as a human being — to fit all the mysterious pieces together.

But that being said, here’s my two & a half cents.

The only way to figure out what you want to BE — or more precisely, who you already ARE — is to engage in a lifelong game of Trial & Error.

I didn’t step into my current career & identity overnight — and I certainly didn’t have a roadmap. For most of my life, I’ve been a proud dilettante — trying on roles, testing identities, playing with my powers, seeing what fit. When things felt RIGHT, I went full-throttle. When things felt WRONG, I got out — fast.

I’ve been a public radio promotions coordinator & a freelance journalist. A wheatgrass juicer & a computer lab supervisor. A dramaturge’s assistant & a yoga studio receptionist. A student of Victorian literature & a prophylactic saleswoman at licensed brothels in southern New Zealand. I’ve written poetry, erotic stories, op-ed pieces, dry-as-a-bone technical articles, book reviews and artist profiles — and gotten ‘em published: sometimes for money, sometimes for giggles, and once, for a pair of ski lift tickets. And that’s just the frosting on my résumé cupcake.

I’ve discovered my talents — and continue to do so — by trying, floundering, noticing, reinventing, and trying again. And again.

Maybe there’s an easier, swifter way. A quick-fix pill for self-illumination. If you find one, let me know.

Till then . . .

Try things.

LOTS of things.

Don’t get attached to obvious titles or tracks.

Examine your feelings.

See what lights you up.

Do more of that, and less of the other shit.

Repeat for approximately 100 years.

Well done!

The end.

Is your Internet penis too small?

 

So there I was, lying in bed, with my favorite unofficial life coach.
My boyfriend.

I was venting, whining & moaning (sexy, right?) about … wait for it … web traffic.

“I’m just worried that if I pour a whole ton of time & effort into a new offering — you know, a really freaky-weird poetry collection, or program, or book — something’s that not about marketing & copywriting & communication — something about self-discovery, reinvention, you know, ART man! — that it’s just gonna flop. That nobody will want it. I just don’t have the mailing list numbers, you know?”

He turns to me, gravely.

“Alex . . . are you worried that your Internet penis is too small?”

Yes. Why yes, I am.

Here’s the thing. I’ve seen the analytics. I know my metrics. 100,000 blog visitors, in 2-ish years.
Mailing list approaching 2,000. Twitter peeps over 4,000. They seem like juicy, dazzling numbers.
But comparatively speaking? Teeny tiny Internet penis.

And yeah, yeah, I know. It’s not about size, it’s about the motion of the ocean. But really, I want numbers. There. I said it.

And then again . . .

“Maybe you don’t need the whole world to love you, you know?
Maybe you just need one person.”
– Kermit the Frog

Oh, Kermie. Too right.

I know — in my hut (that’s my heart + gut) — that my words, my ideas & my particular flavor of inspiration are going to reach whoever they’re meant to reach. That ultimately, hustle-mongering & guest-blogging & opt-in freebie-ing & SEO-crunching aside — my digital fame, or lack thereof?
It’s largely, wildly outside my control.

People will respond, or they won’t. People will buy, with delight, or they won’t. People will tweet-share-like-love-validate-ooh-la-la-huggy-smoosh me, or they won’t.

Should any of those will-they-or-won’t-theys? keep me from creating what I feel called to serve up?
Let’s not even dignify that question with a response. OK, let’s. FUCK. NO.

So maybe I’m OK with just one person’s fanatical love & approval. Say, my own.
And for what it’s worth, my boyfriend thinks my Internet penis is juuuust fine.
Thank you & goodnight.

And now, a brief word from our sponSOAR . . .

Andrea Schroeder believes — and I swear, I did not plan this — that “your dream is just the right size.”

Ms. Schroeder also believes that you don’t need gazillions of dollars, a wall of fancy degrees, or wizard-like powers (other than the ones you already have!) to make your dream come true.

You just need a space to nurture and accelerate your inkling. You need guidance and the right tools.

You need (drrrrrrumroll dun dah dah dah!) . . . a Creative Dream Incubator.

(Good thing it exists!)

The Creative Dream Incubator is a self-paced wish-fulfillment master class to help you GROW YOUR DREAM to completion, with Andrea’s rainbow pixie sizzle-blend of affirmations & meditations, scribbling & scrawling, stomping & bawling, and general madness (of the very highest order).

No more preamble. Simply: go git ‘er.

Read More business // acceleration

Nobody knows what’s going to work for you —
and other sobering, centering truths.

 

Uncomfortable, but true:

Nobody knows what’s going to work for you.
Emphasis on YOU.

What’s going to make you happy, successful, wealthy & free.
What’s going to rick your roll, rock your socks, flip your system & change your life.

Nobody. Not your $500 an hour business adviser. Not your mastermind groupies. Not your college career counselor. Not your therapist. Not your best friend. Not your trainer. Not your psychic. Not your mom. Not your dog. Not the ghost of your wise & dearly-departed great auntie. And certainly not me.

Nobody can tell you — with absolute, iron-clad, you-can-bank-on-it certainty — how to make your video go viral, how to guarantee that your campaign is a starry-eyed success, how to get your book on the bestseller list . . . how to win what you desperately want.

Nobody can predict all the variables. The pull of the tide. The flux of the market. The mysterious loops of your brain chemistry. The variability of your own vigor & commitment.

Nobody knows how to make you more prolific, more productive, more focused, more rarified, more more-ified, more YOU-ified.

Nobody knows what’s going to work for you. Not really. Not completely. Not for all the king’s gold, the moon & the stars, or an ocean of pearls. Nobody. Nope.

All anybody can do is tell you what worked (for them), what’s proven (for others) and likely (for some).

All anybody can do is hold you closer to your best ideas, and say, “If I were you, I’d do it. Like this.”

All anybody can do is ask the inevitable questions that you need to answer.

All anybody can do is bear witness as you crack the riddle, coax out your brilliance, finesse all the pieces, and frolic into the success that you’ve earned.

Nobody knows what’s going to work for you.

But we’re all cheering, aching, bated-breath waiting . . . for you to Figure It Out.

And when you do — go ahead: tell us what’s worked.
For YOU.

Gratitude to Hiro Boga for inspiring this post by reminding me, last week, that nobody knows.
I’d forgotten.

Read More creativity // inspiration

The last JOB I ever applied for — & why crying in a food court is good for the soul.

 

It was mid-winter, 2009. Which in Minnesota means: if you go outside with damp hair, you’re going to be sporting a head full of icicles, like a frosty Medusa.

I had a job interview. (Or so I thought.) In an empty food court. Next to a Potbelly Sandwich.

The position? A mash-up of communications, social media strategy & governmental relations. All in the name of keeping public radio alive (rah, rah, siss boom bah!) A good job, by any evaluation. A major pay spike, for me. A visible step-up inside the company.
My ego wanted it, gruesomely so.

My interviewer & potential boss-dude sat me down . . . to tell me I wasn’t getting the job.

My eyes prickled with tears. I willed myself to keep it together, Franzen, dammit.

And then he asked me a question I wasn’t prepared to answer . . . with any sort of cohesion or clarity.

“What do you want to do?”

(subtext: with your life, your career, your talents, your inimitable Franzness?)

And then, I cried. Big, blubbering tears. Somewhere between five-year-old-dropped-her-ice-cream-cone and young-war-widower-getting-the-hideous-news. And it had nothing to do with the job I hadn’t gotten . . . and everything to do with a life I hadn’t wanted.

I handed in my quittin’ notice for my current job, shortly after that. I made a commitment to freedom. To total vocational reinvention.

I don’t cry in food courts, anymore.

But I’m glad I did. If I hadn’t gotten sloshy, vulnerable & weepy — in front of a trusted colleague, in public, natch — I might never have admitted to myself that I was profoundly unhappy. No admission? No reinvention.

Oh, and by the way? The fella who triggered my sobfest? He’s still rocking his job (which he loves) AND starting an entrepreneurial biz on the side. We recently reconnected. Coffee is on the horizon. Full circle, baby.

There’s no high moral to this story, other than to say:

If you’re happy & you know it, clap your hands.

And if you’re unhappy & you know it, cry in a food court. Then change your life . . .
as humbly or dramatically as you can.

And now, a brief word from our sponSOAR . . .

 

Want to know what makes us HAPPY?

Dr. Susan Mathison has a theory: it’s BEAUTY. How exquisitely simple is that?

In her TEDx Talk — “Beauty Makes Me Happy: Inside Out, Outside In and Upside Down” — Susan explores how we define beauty, what makes us indefinably magnetic, and why it’s so easy to recognize & appreciate beauty in others, but so bewilderingly hard to recognize it in ourselves.

Dr. Sue is one of the gentlest, more grand-hearted human beings I’ve ever met — a holistic cosmetic surgeon, double-board certified physician, and firm believer that every woman has the right to create her own definition of beauty, without judgment — whether it includes bare feet or stilettos, overalls or couture gowns, chapstick & wrinkles or tattoos & Botox.

Let’s help Susan cross the 1,000-view mark on her TEDx Talk. And if you’re not already part of her world, get on her mailing list & revel in her Beauty Manifesto. Because beauty rules.
 

Read More grief // catharsis