Angels are in our details

In writing, comedy, and life, the "pointless" parts are actually pivotal

Photo by Dynamic Wang on Unsplash

While I’ve been struggling to wrap my head around everything that’s been happening in LA anddd bracing myself for the internet (and life!) to blow up after today’s inauguration, I’ve also had this dueling yet burning desire to write about, well, my little life. I wanna tell you what I’ve been learning in comedy class, what’s been sparking in the The DBP Society, and the overarching themes I’ve been seeing.

BUT.

When big things are happening, I feel weird sending my own stuff out. The little devil on my shoulder whispers:

People don’t have energy to read your personal stories right now. They’re not important enough. BIGGER things are happening. There isn’t room for you.

Yet yesterday, while standing at the kitchen window and sinking my teeth into my daily avocado toast, something clicked. (Ooooh, nooooo. I’ve actually been writing jokes about how I’m a “basic bitch,” and now I have to add THAT ritual to the list.)

In the middle of a break from wrestling with my “pointless” words, I was struck by a recent text convo with one of the brilliant ladies from DBP. (Let’s call her…Tonya. Tonya Harding.) Immediately after sending me what she wrote for the Home Sweet Home prompt, she texted that she was “veryyyy vulnerable” but trusting the process.

As I read her words, my world stopped. I was gripped by her stories. Not only could I picture the scenes she painted, but I could feel what she was feeling. I was sad for her, angry for her, and most of all, amazed by her. Needless to say, our text exchange went deep as Tonya openly answered some of my follow-up questions and continued to wow me with her strength, faith, and resilience. Then, here’s the part that came back and slapped my bread-filled cheeks:

“I almost went an entirely different direction because I kept thinking, ‘I have it so good. My parents divorced and my marriage is imperfect. So what?’”

THOSE are the words that brought everything together.
THOSE are the words that showed me the power of sharing our details.

How many times have you wanted to share something in a text, post, convo, speech, etc. but took a different direction because it didn’t feel big enough, relevant enough, or even unique enough? How many times have you thought, So what? Who cares?

(Oh, no. This is the worst time to drift off, but are you remembering what I’m remembering?)

In one of my newsletters last year, I was *this* close to deleting a whole slew of bullets at the beginning. Although my intention was to expand on a topic with specific examples from my life, I worried that they were too personal, a little whiney, and just plain unnecessary. But days later, my friend Amanda said this in a voice text:

“Oh, Brit — I’m sitting here reading your email. I haven’t even made it past the bullets and I’m already in tears.”

Ha! The part I almost cut was THE part that gripped her.

My “pointless” details were what ultimately connected us.

This brings me to what I’ve been dying to share with you from comedy class. One of the biggest things I’ve learned from the last two calls is that if you want to really capture an audience, you’ve got to get them to relate to you. And just how do you do that? Through specificity. Through giving examples. Through drawing comparisons. Through DETAILS!

You see, my original plan with this was to recap the time I bombed and mock myself the whole time. (Yep, that was the way I was going to redeem myself. My methods of self-care are very sick and twisted.) I thought for SURE that story would crack the ladies up. I mean, in my daydreams, the audience was peeling over.

But you wanna know what caught the most interest from our first call and what I’m now building my whole set around?

The surprising fact that I love the UFC.

Before class, Zoe Rogers sent some basic questions to help us get to know each other and generate some practice material. One of those was, “What is something about you no one would guess?”

Here was my response:

I’m actually into the UFC. Never understood any fighting sports until I watched the Ultimate Fighter with my husband and now I love it. I mean, I get injured doing chores and simply walking around my house…and was horrible playing sports growing up and get super anxious with anything that involves defense (I once hyperventilated when someone threw me the ball in basketball), but man, I can get down with watching a good fight.

When I was writing this, I thought it was funny (because I think everything I say is funny) but I was also like, So, what? Who cares? Let’s get past this intro stuff. Let’s get to the GOOD stuff!

To me, this was a minor detail about my random little life that had no business being the basis of a joke. The topic just didn’t feel relevant to my overall mission.

But THAT is what makes it so GOOD. And THAT is what makes my intro about being a basic bitch so fitting. (Oh! I guess I get to mock myself after all! Ah! Self-love FTW!) At first, I’m going to address everyone’s accurate assumptions and stereotypes about me, then I’ll come at them with an oh-so-surprising curveball.

In the process of that, I’ll add detail. Thanks to Zoe’s suggestion of naming actual fighters and specific moves, here’s how one of the jokes currently stands:

You could say I am clumsy, but DAMN I can get down with a good fight. Nothing gives me thunder down under like watching Anderson “The Spider” Silva do a rear naked choke or Jorge Masvidal do a flying knee knockout. And don’t even get me started on how Bruce Buffer screams “IT’S TIIIIIIIIIME!” That gives me a raging lady boner.

See? Even if you know nothing about the Ultimate Fighting Championship, you can at least feel the effect here, right?

Here’s another in-process joke:

Being a woman at a UFC fight is like being a unicorn at a monster truck rally. No one’s quite sure why you’re there. But the lines for the bathroom are nonexistent, and I love the realness of it. What other forum is it okay to tackle someone to the ground? When Alana from Pilates takes the last cantaloupe at Whole Foods, boy, would I love to tackle her to the ground. But society has rules and she’s also the head of the PTA.

In those first two sentences, I’m using a method called “What it’s like,” which compares your topic to something else and makes it more relatable. Then, thanks to Zoe’s direction, I paint a familiar scenario for my future Boulder audience with the use of “Alana,” “cantaloupe,” and “Whole Foods.” I also delve into one thing that makes these fights interesting to me: watching people get confrontational in a world that avoids, well, confrontation.

Welp, JeeWoo’s movie’s almost over, but speaking of confronting something…

I hope this newsletter helps you face your inner demons and bring YOUR details to life. Even if something “bigger” is happening, I want you to know that YOUR part is worth sharing. Your part matters.

At times, you might feel like Earth looks from Mars: a tiny speck in a vast universe.

Credit: NASA Jet Propulsion Laboratory-Caltech/Malin Space Science Systems/Texas A&M University.

But zoom in on that minor detail of a bigger picture, and you’ll find a whole WORLD of life that is deeply interwoven and beyond beautiful.

Think of that video as YOUR part in the bigger picture. YOUR voice on days like today.

From certain perspectives, it may seem like a minor, pointless, little detail. But from a zoomed-in lens of connection and meaning, your part has endless possibility.

So, the next time you think:

I’d really like to share this story, but I’m not a writer,

Or

I want to share my pain, but compared to others, I have it so good,

Or

I’m dying to make someone laugh in this wackadoo world, but other things feel more important,

Scratch that shit. Shoo that devil from your shoulder and let your details fly, baby. Because I promise you:

“Right now, there is someone out there with a wound in the exact shape of your words.”

Jodi Mesa read this in one of James Clear’s newsletters, and I’m so glad she shared it with me. I even shared it with Tonya. And I hope you share it with someone as well. Because if there’s one sentence that will give someone permission to let their details take flight, it’s that one, am I right?

Until next time,

P.S. If you EVER want to join The DBP Society — where Done is Better than Perfect and writers find courage, clarity, and community — you can join us at any point. You can also opt out at any point. Get the lowdown here.

If you’re ready try it out for a while, take the leap here. I would LOVE to have you.