Welcome to Extra Credit, a newsletter about giving people, places, and things their due. Paid subscribers—whom I love—receive two dispatches per week, with occasional extra goodies. Those on the free list—we’re still friends!—get one. Upgrade at extracredit.bulletin.com/subscribe.
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Hello!
Super duper apologies for the radio silence. I hate when we miss each other like this! I’ve spent the past two weeks in a metaphorical bunker so that I could finish a revision of the book that I have been working on. I needed to achieve a level of focus that some people I know have called “frightening” to get it done. But I prefer to think of that kind of concentration as rigorous and dedicated.
The process entailed protracted periods of total silence—a real hardship for me, as someone who wakes up in the morning brimming with remarks and observations that I’d like to make. I soldiered on. Brave. (The book will be out next summer from Viking and I promise we will discuss it 10 million times between now and then.)
In retrospect, was it a fabulous idea to start writing full-time, plan a wedding, take on four trillion freelance assignments, go to the Oscars, profile Dr. Jill Biden, and get married, all while attempting to cut 100,000 words down to 80,000? No. I do not recommend it! But I made it.
Because it has been a minute, I have a few extra goodies planned for the next few weeks. We will chat about planning and summer clothes. We will discuss the vacation ethos I have developed over decades and the general sense I have that all bathing suits are embarrassing. (Prove me wrong.) I have been compiling a list of the best gossip-filled books ever written. You know what I think? Be the listicle you wish to see in the world.
In the meantime I wanted to drop in with an installment of Extra Credit Treats—the franchise I invented just now. This batch was cooked up to meet the needs of the circumstances in which I ended up this week—having just completed a colossal amount of work, harboring a powerful desire to throw the laptop on which I’ve been writing this book into the ocean, in need of several dozen Arnold Palmers.
Behold! Your guide to six superlative post-deadline treats.
For a deadline that required sitting on your butt for days a time—a massage
A massage is a perfect reward for a deadline met because it’s both an indulgence and a treatment for the practical side effects of meeting said deadline—the friendship bracelet of knots that have braided themselves around your shoulders.
My grandfather used to describe the process of becoming a doctor—his chosen and beloved profession—as “ass work.” As in: You have to sit on your ass and work. A lot of good stuff is like that and several of the deadlines I’ve met over the past few months were too. Ten hours in front of a computer, barely blinking.
You can get a lot of work done in that position, but your lumbar spine will suffer. I know this because when I was an undergrad, I pinched a nerve from simply sitting too long.
I studied so hard I caused actual damage. The neurologist whom I later saw said, “Have you tried…going to a party?” Sir, I was and remain extremely fun!
My favorite massages in New York (and I’ve tried them all), in $$$$ - $ order: Shibui Spa at the Greenwich Hotel, Naturopathica Spa, Body Mechanics Orthopedic Massage, Fishion NYC
For a deadline that seemed like it was going to take more out of you than it did—fresh flowers
A PlantShed original!
You terrorized yourself, picturing days on end of trying to write that piece or solve that problem or build that spreadsheet. Lo and behold, the whole thing took you about 90 minutes. You don’t get a medal for that, but you do get a little reminder that not everything is as terrible as you imagine it will be. Buy yourself some flowers and try to be less neurotic.
You’re only hurting yourself!
My favorite flowers in New York, in $$$$ - $ order: Miho Kosuda (Anna Wintour’s favorite), Élan Flowers, Posies, PlantShed, UrbanStems
For a deadline that you have not in the most technical sense met—two bottles of seltzer
I see we are the same. You too like to congratulate yourself for coming close to finishing that task that is in fact not quite finished. You put a good dent in it! Should that not count for something?
I recommend two ice-cold bottles of seltzer from the closest supermarket. Bubbles are good for momentum. One bottle meets a basic need. Two is luxurious. Get two. Now get back to work.
For a deadline of epic proportions, the Goliath of deadlines—a solid-gold memento
You can find fine jewelry all over the internet. I love to search for my own initials or the initials of people I love on the RealReal. Wearing a signet ring with your dog’s initials? I don’t even feel bad saying I absolutely would do it. MuseXMuse has an upsetting number of beautiful options. Briony Raymond made my wedding band, and everything she touches seems to turn to literal gold. I lust after every single thing Sherman Field produces. It’s worrisome! I also like Fewer Finer, Mejuri, and Catbird.
For a deadline that is just the first in a series of god-awful tasks—a $6 latte and interesting pastries
You did something! Now you have more to do!
You need caffeine ASAP and also at least one of the following—a chocolate-and-nutella babka from Breads Bakery, schnecken from William Greenberg Desserts, or a guava and cheese doughnut from Fan Fan.
For a deadline that was just met five seconds ago, now what?—Bravo
Fill up a huge glass of water. Move to your couch immediately. Sip slowly as you watch Below Deck: Sailing Yacht. Think of absolutely nothing besides Gary’s intense mediocrity. You’re safe now.
