What I Learned Reading Every Kurt Vonnegut Book in 2022

This year, I made the goal to read every full-length Kurt Vonnegut book, for no other reason than I wanted to choose one niche thing and see it all the way through. I was intrigued by the thought of checking a box no one could uncheck, question, or one-up.

I accomplished it yesterday, in the nick of time, and ended up learning a few things in the process that I'm taking with me into 2023.

In creative work, mental rest is as critical as inspiration and talent.

My Year of Vonnegut goal required me to carve out more uninterrupted hours in my day for myself than I'm used to. My typical routine is to get up and get right to my laptop, then stay tethered until I can safely step away. (Being EST with a PST team, mornings are when I get most done before meetings start, but getting that head start can mean an additional 2-3 hours of messages, emails, and meetings as their afternoons crank on into my evenings.) That sometimes just leaves time for dinner at a decent hour, then bed.

The creative process requires rest. The more you keep going while not feeling completely great about what you are doing, the harder it will be to get re-inspired.

I realized I'd never get through the 14 books unless I made it physically impossible to multitask, which narrowed things down to (1) mornings before the west coast woke up, and (2) physical activity. I started by listening to the audiobooks while doing renovation projects around the house, but when it warmed up a little, I began taking morning walks.

You can't browse apps on your phone while walking (at least, you can't in Richmond's Fan District without falling on your face), glance up at the TV, or respond to texts. You can soak up vitamin D (worked wonders for my mood and energy levels), smile at other humans, see lots of happy dogs and cats, get fresh air, and watch the seasons unfold around you.

When I'm stressed, healthy habits are the first to go. I get so mentally exhausted I can't make time for the things I find inspiring. And when I'm not inspired, I'm not great at my job.

These walks were magic and will be a part of my life for as long as I'm mobile. I'd get inspiration for headlines and conclusions and concepts while walking that don't come to me in front of a screen. More importantly, I took more ownership of my time and responsibility for my mental health by making a choice that was 100% for me.

Be ready for the Timequake by putting yourself first.

Morning walks were like dipping a toe into the concept of prioritizing my health and happiness. When I read Timequake, his final book, I felt like it might be time to jump all the way in.

Here's the book's premise: A hiccup in the universe forces everyone to "pop back" ten years and relive it all over again, but without any ability to change a thing. If you didn't say it or do it back then, you won't this time around. If you did it and regretted the hell out of it back then, you get to cringe your way back through it. You're aware this is "a rerun," but until free will kicks back in, you can't do anything about it.

I spent hours considering this. What parts of my life would be worth reliving a second time? What parts would I wish I hadn't spent so much time on? Scrolling my phone for an hour before falling asleep would be pretty boring to redo. Stressing about emails in the middle of the night would make me roll my eyes. Morning walks, on the other hand, and vacations and playing hooky to go for a hike and long lunches and naps in the sun would be delightful. Are prioritizing those things going to jeopardize my job, or make me better at it?

I want to work on a life that's worth reliving for me. Duty, responsibility, and hard work will always be a part of that, but it can't eclipse the rest.

"Alive people problems!"

Forget for a second the possibility of reliving a decade and consider not getting to live it at all. (Sorry!) For all the science fiction, Kurt also shared non-fiction, including the loss of his 40-year old sister and muse, Alice. She died from "cancer of the everything" two days after her husband died in a train accident, a real-life tragedy he lent to Slapstick, my October read.

Last week, I went to the funeral of a friend, around the same age, who passed away after a two-year battle with glioblastoma. He left behind a wife and three kids, and it wrecked me. My best friend, also in attendance, said something to me later that day that stuck with me. While sharing a minor frustration, she quickly added, "Oh, well. Alive people problems!"

I thought about that all week. Are all of the big deals really big deals, as long as we have our health? Someone mentioned not minding working long hours in light of how many are getting laid off right now, but I had already gone here in my head: "At least they get to be alive. Matt does not." (Then, a friend in NYC texted me the same day to say she was just laid off from her advertising job. "It's amazing. I'm, like, working out mid-day, taking my cat on walks, and just generally way happier.")

“They like life alright, but that they would like it even better if they could know that it was going to end sometime.”

― Kurt Vonnegut, Timequake

You obviously can't (and shouldn't) spend every single day considering imminent death, and funemployment won't last forever, but I'll add the two perspectives to my ballast for stormier days.

Laughing, friendships, and fun are where it's at.

I've never gravitated to satire much as a genre, but I loved Kurt Vonnegut's humor so much I found myself laughing aloud with headphones in on many mornings, even as he unpacked the dark, heavy, and hard.

I get to call a couple of people I work with true friends, and I feel really lucky for that. One in particular has a knack for sending me a funny Slack when I'm on camera during a Zoom call to watch me struggle not to laugh. I live for those moments. Live for them! I'm not suggesting to throw out all decorum and professionalism, but a little humor goes a long way.

Around the time of my morning walks, I was lucky enough to bring a contractor onto my team with a truly fantastic sense of humor. His positive attitude has become nearly as valuable to me, personally, as the work that he does. I let humor into my reading list and into my work life, and it's been life-changing.

“Listen: We are here on Earth to fart around. Don't let anybody tell you any different!”

― Kurt Vonnegut, Timequake

I'm also lobbying to decriminalize downtime! I've been fully remote for about a decade now, and I will say one thing about it: I tend to work way more. In fact, the most I've ever "farted around" in my life was when I worked in offices. (Once, at an ad agency I worked at, I tried to add up how much time the smokers spent away from their desks ripping lung darts and gossiping. As a non-smoker, I started taking that much longer lunches.)

I don't know about you, but 24-7 connectivity, Slack status icons, and Zoom calls are spooky specters. After spending a week with me once, witnessing the constant pinging and dinging, my father said "I have no idea how you all do it these days." When I have a full day of calls, a half hour each, every hour on the hour, I get completely exhausted. I don't have the energy to be my best self, either in those meetings or outside of them.

I'm making 2023 the year of the "Focus Time" setting on my calendar—not just to get work done, but to recharge my battery (in ways I'd be cool reliving during the timequake, of course). Being busy all the time isn't a badge of honor—it may actually just mean you sacrifice quality for quantity. Fart around and find out, I guess.

Happy New Year, dudes.

Did you set a funky goal for 2022 and accomplish it? I'd love to hear about it. I need inspiration for 2023! No one warned me that accomplishing the goal was going to feel good but also be sad. I have a week to decide on something else as approachable, enlightening, fun, and encouraging.

Hope you have a Happy New Year!