I didn’t know my favorite color as a kid. I’m sure I had one. But when asked, I panicked — when did we all pick one? I remember going through the list of colors and trying to land on the best option. What would say something about me? What was there to say about me? I think I picked blue.
I didn’t know how to know when I liked something. I used to say “I love that movie!” when really I just meant that I’d seen it. I said mac and cheese was my favorite food because that seemed like a kid thing to say and, well, I did eat it, and happily. It’s not that I didn’t have favorite things. I just didn’t know how to recognize what they were. I didn’t know I was allowed to want things.
At 8, when I was flipping through a Roladex of colors in my mind desperate to decide on a favorite, I didn’t realize people weren’t “choosing” a favorite color with their brain. They were articulating which one made them feel something. I thought you decided what to feel with your mind.
I wasn’t on speaking terms with my feelings until a few years ago. This made it impossible to write anything meaningful. I loved writing when I had a prompt, but without one I had no clue what you were supposed to say. I wanted to answer questions (and get them right!), not ask them! All my protagonists were basically just more boring versions of me, because I refused to give them any faults or make them face any conflict. Deeply closeted, I kept my inner life so hidden from myself I couldn’t even let her out to give Parker, the protagonist of my NaNoWriMo novel, any personality trait other than having perfect opinions and a gender neutral name (AKA the closest I could get to gay).
I’ve been thinking about this because I’ve had horrible writer’s block this week, amongst all of the business-y, fundraise-y tasks that fill my notes app to-do list. Nothing will suck the creativity out of you like opening a Numbers file called “Budget 2024”. I don’t feel very creative today, even while writing this. I feel stuck in a specific voice — a mildly sappy, mildly motivational tone that reads like it could be the voice over at the end of a coming of age movie. A valedictorian speech kinda vibe. I feel like I could whip out a Oxford English Dictionary defines ‘creativity’ as… at any moment. I’m still trying to answer questions instead of asking. You will not be closing this email until you learn a LESSON, dammit!
While I was lamenting my writer’s block, my friend gently reminded me that I am doing the jobs of multiple people. This is why creatives hire people like agents and managers and publicists, she reminded me. I felt a little relieved. I unclenched for the first time in a week and laid back on our picnic blanket, enjoying my £1.50 Corona from the off license.
Saturday was the first truly nice day of the year in London. The kind of weather that begs you to sit outside with a beautiful beverage. A beverage that looks good in the sun: a beautiful golden beer, a gorgeous pink rosé, a deep orange Aperol Spritz. Can you pick your favorite color based on how it tastes?
I’ve tried, over the years, to gradually turn up the volume on my feelings so I can hear them. These days, I actually spend a ton of time thinking about what I like and what I want and how to make it happen. I plan my weeks around getting to my favorite coffee shop that sells my favorite sourdough so I can have it for my favorite breakfast: egg on toast. I love telling people what technique I’m using to stay off social media this week so I can have time to find new favorite books, new favorite movies, new favorite ways to line Andy Cohen’s pockets.
Now, when someone asks me my favorite, I do still panic. But now it’s because so many things I love come to mind. A favorite feels too absolute, but I know what movie I watch when I move to a new place (Lady Bird) and what Youtube video I turn to when I’m really down (Rihanna’s Day Drinking With Seth Meyers). I love molten chocolate lava cake or any dessert served hot with ice cream on the side. If you put me next to the ocean I will cry and if you put me on a dance floor I will request 212 by Azealia Banks. I hate fennel and love a cold Dr. Pepper out of a styrofoam cup. I’d rather call you than text and I will cancel plans if they are before 11 AM. I don’t drink Aperol Spritzes unless I’m in the sun and I really, really want to be in the sun.
My favorite color is light purple.
listened to this week: Maggie Rogers’s Don’t Forget Me
I am raising money to take my one-woman show, Will Shea, Won’t Shea? to Edinburgh Fringe! (Read all about it here). If you have anything to spare, it would mean the absolute WORLD to me if you could donate. I am trying to reach £3400 by the end of the month to cover my venue deposit. And thank you to the many readers of this newsletter who have already donated - because of you we passed £1100!!
Other ways you can help
Become a paid subscriber to this newsletter! You get access to the monthly pay walled post and the knowledge that you’re supporting my life long dream or whatever
Come see the show in Edinburgh! July 31-August 25 at C venues!
Share!! I know times are tough and you may not have any money to spare, so it could really help me out if you could share the Crowdfunder link! Posting on your socials, as well as directly texting people you think that might be willing to donate, would really be so helpful. The link: https://crowdfund.edfringe.com/p/shea
*4/27/24 edit: I switched to a new crowdfunding platform that has lower fees. I have updated the links on this page.