Has the plug been pulled--or is it simply not plugged in?

How about when we look at a house without much stuff in it: is there very little by choice, or by misfortune? Regardless of which, could there be equally appealing results? Is there no flat-screen plugged into the wall and hooked up to cable because it is mental clutter, or is it because it is physical clutter? Or because it is  budget clutter?

No matter what began the lifestyle, or what the lifestyle is called, living well with only what you need is a philosophy that brings good things to those who share it. For the privileged, it brings a keener appreciation of the costs involved in being a consumerist–the time, the money, the global impact, the personal sacrifice, and the dissipation. For the less-privileged, it enables satisfaction by taking one out of the desire trap: the lone chipped cup still holds tea as much as the flawless one from a set of twelve. It’s a change in values, and not just an aesthetic.

Even if it isn’t a permanent lifestyle, the exercise in awareness remains. Maybe you are a Minimalist nomad at the moment, relocating frequently for work or just because. Traveling light and not owning much is logical. Not only is it easier, but it allocates funds more logically, as well. Or maybe you’re broke, just starting out or starting over, a clean slate with a nearly empty abode. That might change over time, and you could end up with a sofa and a piano and throw pillows and a curio cabinet. But the chances are greater that you’ll acquire those things deliberately, not mindlessly.

Living well with only what you need gets fuzzy in the area of aesthetics vs. philosophy. Minimalism as an aesthetic style really is clean-lined and sparse, almost always airy white spaces with no baubles or tchotchkes catching dust. However, if your personal style includes more furniture and visual elements like textiles, art, books, family photos and hobbies, you might not be aesthetically Minimalist, but you might still be philosophically Minimalist if nearly everything is there for its purpose and enjoyed as such. The aesthetic Minimalist might well have a storage unit full of old stuff or crap that they can’t bear to part with or can’t face dealing with. They might still have a consumerist problem (a second storage unit crammed with various “single perfect vases”) and they might still be in debt because their aesthetic (a single pair of jeans, $3,000) exceeds their income.

It isn’t just the not-buying of stuff that determines Minimalism. A person with little money can still be packrat, or a scavenger dragging home every chair found at a curbside whether a chair was needed or not. Shopping doesn’t always involve money. Many “frugal” people are guilty of misdirecting their time and energy toward the acquisition of more stuff than they actually need. They’ll spot an item that would be “good as new” with a bit of repair or painting, and it joins the ranks of other such projects (four other toasters?) in various stages of completion, not a single one of which was actually needed.

Similarly, the accumulation of just-in-case items is not always non-Minimalist. If you own a home, you will need stuff to take care of it unless you can afford to hire a caretaker, yard service, cleaning service and repair service.  You might only need a plunger once every couple of years, but boy it’s worth the space it takes up when you do need it, and to get your hands on it pronto. But we all know folks who take just-in-case to the extreme, and have so much stuff that they can’t find the plunger when they need it. Or the hammer. Or the duct tape. Or the fire extinguisher.

This suggests that Minimalism is a relative value, with as many flavors as there are individuals. Two people may each have the same only-the-essentials philosophy, but one would become psychotic spending too much time in the all-white and virtually empty home of the other.  There are also Minimalists who have only the essentials, use everything they own, and their homes look like cyclones hit them because they don’t feel the need to put their things away. Perhaps they feel their time and energy are best spent on other pursuits?

Speaking for myself, Minimalism is now mostly mindfulness. It began after re-organizing stuff in storage in the basement a few too many times, when I realized several things:

• I had too much stuff for our small downsized house, even if it was nice stuff
• Most of the stuff was probably never going to be needed or enjoyed again
• It was too hard to find the things I did need amid the stuff I didn’t need
• It was getting harder to deal with it as I got older
• It wouldn’t be fair to leave the sorting job to my family if I became ill or died
• The sentimental things were only sentimental to me, but I never looked at them
• I kept accumulating more stuff, because I shopped recreationally
• My value system was seriously out of whack: bad for the budget, for time, for the environment, for posterity

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Oh Great, the Porch Post Needs Shimming Again

Keeping the wardrobe weeded out is an ongoing thing. Like many of you I have a bag that gradually accumulates the stuff I’m not wearing enough to keep. This process has slowed down enough to where it takes about a year to fill one large bag, but of course it wasn’t always that way. When life is in a frequent state of flux, it’s hard to know what you’ll want or need in the way of clothes from one year to the next. Add some economic caution, and it’s easy to get into a “just-in-case” mindset.

Take the long crocheted linen cardigan in the pic above. Acquired for a song several years ago, it’s a soft earthy green and has a lovely drape. But I didn’t wear it often because it didn’t really suit my lifestyle at the time, and then I kinda forgot about it. Every time I cleaned my closet I’d see it and think, oh I should just donate it, but I really, really liked it so I hung on to it. It actually survived three years in the donation bag.

Every so often I get into a ruthless sorting mood, and the last time that happened I dealt with the bag of accumulated clothes that had somehow grown to two bags (admit it, you know those bags propagate when you’re not looking). This was going to be the Last Time for a lot of the “maybe” stuff–my lifestyle is pretty stable and is not likely to change much in the foreseeable future, so I could weed out with confidence. I got rid of it all except for two sweaters, the one in the pic and another favorite that was too small (I’d gained weight) and now fit again (lost the weight, yay). And I’m wearing them all the time. The one in the pic is quite long and really suits the skinny black jeans.

It also had a tiny rip at the shoulder, which caused a very noticeable unraveling. Now this is the fun part–a few months ago I cleaned out my ancient sewing box, and it had an extensive collection of those packets of spare buttons and thread that come with some brands. And I sorted through those and kept the relevant ones. And–oh this is so exciting, can’t you feel it–I’d saved the little packet of yarn that came with this sweater! So I mended it, and wear it regularly. What a love story, eh? Okay, so it wasn’t all that, but if you have a frugal streak, you’ll know the sort of joy I’m talking about.

I’m doing a shoe purge soon. My fav plaid Converse bump-toe sneakers have had to be eliminated, because the toes on my right foot would go numb every time I wore them. I guess this numb-toe phenomenon is quite common from middle age onward, doesn’t take much to cause it. I’ve replaced them with flat-soled espadrilles with loads of wiggle room. There are some other culprits amongst my shoes: buh-bye to them, too.

(While shopping for the espadrilles, I noted racks and racks of those long tiered gypsy skirts. Weren’t those all the rage like five years ago? Are they back? What? Somebody tell me.)

This past weekend’s Minimalism Reward: I looked for, and quickly found, two items I hadn’t clapped eyes on in two years. One was a replacement weed-whacker string bobbin, and the other was a McCall’s sewing pattern for a tunic-length shirt. There was a time it would have taken at least an hour and the creation of an unbelievable mess to have unearthed these things. I’m feeling all nice and smug, so I’m going to go make my cafe-au-lait d’amande (if you know French, please correct this). Back in a minute.

Ok, back. I wrote up a description of how I made one of my sweaters and sent it to my DIL the pattern designer, who is going to try to rewrite it intelligibly, and I’ll let you know if that works out. Going to wear that infamous striped sweater today for the first time, too

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Got a fair bit of writing done over the weekend, and entered a nice stream-of-consciousness state while weeding the garden. Those are the times that I often come up with memories and images and fancies that trigger a story or a chapter or a scene. I kept my notebook and pen nearby in the garden to catch the ideas before they dissipated. They dissipate quickly, too, much too quickly for me to finish weeding, wash up, then sit down and write them out properly. So even if I only get a few words and phrases down, or even a list of details, it’s enough to pick up where I left off.

Later this week I’ll do a post on Minimalism, but haven’t decided yet which of two possible directions it can take. It could go the why-I-got-into-it route, or it could go the state of the concept route, where I look at what is happening to others who have gone this way. Or maybe a mix.

Time to get this posted and you know the drill–chime in with your thoughts and experiences, and have a lovely day

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In Concert

Creativity is overrated. I say this not as an expert in the fields of psychology, cognitive sciences, philosophy, or any number of other disciplines that have made a particular study of creativity (see handy Wikipedia entry on creativity). Instead, I say it as one who has been “creative” and considered “creative” for nearly all of my life, and experienced first-hand the various traps one can fall into while trying to manifest that creativity.

I came to the above conclusion after reading a few too many posts and articles that seem to equate creativity with a chorus of angels–divinely inspired, the goal of goals, a delicate and precious thing that must be nurtured and cherished because it was so special. At the same time these writers seem to find the creative state elusive, or to be struggling with feeling worthy enough for that creativity. Their entire self-esteem threatens to collapse if the “high” of inspiration is not frequent or there on demand.

This irritation is balanced by recognition, because I, too, once spent far too much time agonizing over the creative process, with an ego so fragile that I would literally stop creating because I did not feel confident or worthy enough to stand up to criticism or to take a chance on myself (a.k.a. losing the day job). My Work Ethic background was another hurdle to overcome, as I couldn’t get past the deep-seated notion that writing and art were hobbies, and not a way to make a living unless you were a genius. The implication was that if I followed my heart’s desire to write or paint, I therefore considered myself a genius–more special than thou. Heaven forbid that I would do that!

Creativity is often interchanged with inspiration, and wrongly so. Mix that with the self-esteem issues, and you get a lot of pep talk posts where the blogger seems to be talking him or herself into believing they are capable of greatness, of doing wonderful work if only they wouldn’t lose faith in themselves. They aspire to an almost religious level of belief in themselves and inevitably never achieve their goals because such loftiness is not a natural part of the human condition.

Being awestruck by the creation of other creatives is a memorable experience. The problem comes in thinking that the way somebody’s music or painting makes you feel is the way they felt when composing or painting their work. It ain’t so. Even Beethoven, as sublime as his music is, was noted for his crankiness and decidedly uninspired behavior, even before his deafness and ill health became a problem. He worked in spite of distracting family problems and pride-crushing romantic failures.

Creations exist because the creators showed up at the easel, the piano, the barre, the laboratory, the computer, and the weaving looms. That’s it–they just showed up and did the work, regardless of whether inspiration hit them that day or not. There were good days and there were bad days, and the creators worked through them. All the genius in the world wouldn’t have done any good if they sat there and navel-gazed or waited only until inspiration struck, or worked only when all their ducks were lined up.

Creative coaches can help with flow techniques and a sense of supportive community, but when you think about it, they also capitalize on a vulnerable and needy market, particularly the ones who themselves angelicize the creative process and use gentle pep-talk language to make would-be creatives feel more confident and better about themselves. American culture seems rife with this sort of coaching. I have trouble with the language they use, which seems to validate the insecuries instead of shrinking them. It keeps the insecure creators insecure, and as long as they are insecure, the coaches are in demand.

So I say to would-be creatives: get over yourselves. Your creativity means nothing unless you show up to do the work. It’s not sublime, it’s just the way you’re wired, to express yourself creatively in whatever field or medium that speaks to you. You don’t need anyone’s permission to do it, only your own. It doesn’t matter how good you are right off the bat, because practice makes perfect, and you’ll need as much practice as you need. Don’t aspire to a lofty notion of being an artist or a groundbreaker in your chosen field–just show up and do the work, and do it in the manner that feels most “right” to you. Over time, your uniqueness and the medium will coalesce, and become your signature output.

Whether or not your work is genius-level is not for you to decide, so don’t go there. Sometimes the most remarkable creations aren’t realized as such in the creator’s lifetime. This was true for Beethoven, whose Late String Quartets seemed bizarre to audiences of his time, but which inspired  early modernist composers such as Stravinsky and Bartok, and are now considered some of the greatest music ever written.

The biggest favor I ever did for myself was to pull my head out of the clouds and get myself down as low as I could go, which for me was to say: If I don’t do this, I will regret it when I am old and dying. I am going to create what is honestly me, and not worry about how it will be received. I will be humble enough to learn the craft and to just show up, without psychological fanfare, and do the work.

The artificial concept of sublime inspiration had no place in this mindset, but–and this was the best part–after a while I would often get into a “zone,” where I would be absorbed by the flow of the work, a feeling so real and rewarding, that inspiration couldn’t begin to compare. And it was real, not some state of mind I had to talk myself into or be coached into believing.

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A Cuppa Coffee in the Morning Light

Good Morning, Bloglandia! It’s sunny and 47F here at Chez MW, where the peanut butter is natural and the rice cakes are lightly salted. That’s what I’m scarfing down at the moment, and in fact it’s my usual breakfast. It used to be oatmeal, but by the time I added the fun stuff to make it tasty, the caloric count was nearly half my daily allowance. Even when fairly plain, it disagreed with me, likely some gluteny trigger. Recently we tried some gluten-free steel-cut oats (twelve times as expensive as the regular stuff), and it was, um, interesting, sorta barley-like, and bearing little resemblance to the old comfort standby. I think I’ll stick to PB on rice cakes, and Steve has expressed preference for the regular stuff for himself.

Rice cakes are my personal staple, and I only eat the plain, lightly salted ones. I’ve noticed that they are salted on only one side, and I do a quick taste test to confirm which side it is and make sure it’s the side that touches my tongue when I eat, otherwise the resemblance to styrofoam is distracting. I like to top them with hummus and sliced black olives when I have it for lunch, and with a spoonful of low-sugar raspberry jam to make a “cookie” to enjoy with afternoon tea.

But, damn it all, I miss bread, I really, really miss bread. I miss bagels, toast, a warm chunk of baguette drizzled with honey, I miss fluffy muffins, scones, and my secret-recipe vegan cinnamon buns. I don’t miss the seventeen pounds and digestive misery that came with them, but baking and eating wheat flour-based goodies was one of the things I enjoyed most in life. Since now I pretty much eat to live rather than live to eat, cooking, too, is more perfunctory than creative.

Okay, end of whine, on to Almond Milk. We just started drinking this a couple of weeks ago, and we both LOVE IT. I’d tried soy milk, but it was meh. Almond milk, however, tastes good, especially the vanilla, OMG, and it’s been a real lift for this lactose-intolerant household. I also deeply appreciate the fact that it is plant-based, so it doesn’t have to go into the “bad fats” category. Right now I’m sipping a latte of half vanilla almond milk and half hearty coffee. I pour in the milk first, zap it in the microwave for 45 seconds, then add the coffee, which keeps it nicely warm and tasty for a good fifteen minutes longer. But I just have one coffee like that. The first and third cups are black. I’m a writer–I drink half a pot of coffee every morning, that’s what we do

The blog header has undergone another tweak, and Steve took the crazy photo of me plus a few others from which I will choose when I update my About page. Yes, the Harry Potter glasses arrived and they are perfect. Thumbs up for Zenni Optical! The only problem was the clip-ons that I ordered, which were slightly bent. I took needlenose pliers to them and re-bent the clips to make the shades fit better over the glasses, and now they’re good to go. The sweater in the photo is one of the repurposed yarn ones I did this past winter.

There will likely be a few more blog design tweaks here and there, but I’m pleased with the overall appearance. The logo has been tamed down from a sports-team aggressiveness to a more streamlined assertiveness. Didja notice that Minimalist Woman has the same initials as my name? Would you believe I didn’t even notice that until a couple of weeks ago??? Duh.

The other day I bumped up the price of Spirits of Place to $2.99, as encouraged by a lot of other writerly types, but after thinking about it, I’m pushing my luck at this stage of the game. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not a self-esteem problem–I’d price that sucker at $25 if I thought the market could bear it ;D The ebook publishing world is still in its infancy, as is my fiction publishing career, and we’re all still finding our sea legs. So the book remains at $.99 until further notice.

Other writing projects are plugging along, and I’ve set my cap to publish another work of fiction by the end of June. I’m also working on a post about creativity, which was triggered by those who think of it as a sort of chorus of angels. Look for it here later this week.

Onwards and Upwards!
M.

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The Neverending Sweater

Okay, so you know I knit. Last summer I started a top-down raglan cardigan using CotLin from KnitPicks. It took a while to figure out what size I was, get the gauge right, etc. The first attempt was all one color, in what I thought was going to be “natural,” but turned out to be a deep beige very close to my skin color. It was awful. So I purchased half again as much white in order to make a striped sweater and started over again. It was too tight. I started over yet again and the sleeves came out too tight and the neckline too droopy. Sigh.

It’s now on version 4.3, and I think that maybe, just maybe, this time I’ll win (cue Liza Minnelli in Cabaret soundtrack). I gave up on the top-down raglan pattern and went with my very own rectangle with skinny sleeves and V-neck pullover. Of course, knitting something striped–then ripping it apart and doing it again and again–meant a lot of splicing, and I was left with 173 yarn tails to weave in. This is not an exaggeration–I counted ‘em.

On the bright side, I have learned a ton about bringing in a new strand of yarn in the middle of a row, how to work with DK weight yarn (this was the first time I ever used thinner yarn), and how to sew together the resulting lightweight pieces to make something I’d actually wear out of the house. As of this post, there’s a few more weave-ins to go, sewing one more seam, and knitting an edge to the neckline. And blocking, of course. I just hope I’ll be able to stand the sight of it after I’m done, let alone wear it.

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The blog reno proceeds on course. I’ve changed the categories to three: Minimalism, Writing, and Life. Every post will fit into at least one of those categories. If you hover over the category names in the sidebar, you’ll likely see a description. Minimalism, for instance, covers uncluttering, simple living, shopping reduction, etc. Writing covers working as a writer as well as the craft and anything connected to publishing. Life covers anything lifestyle, from food to relationships–and knitting, too.

Categories are a practical way to express what a blog is all about, and they can change over time, just like a blog’s focus. Minimalism has become a second-nature way of living over the past two years. During the same time frame, I’ve built a life as a writer. The two things are part of one another, and part of my life as a whole. Thus, it makes sense to make this as much an author’s personal blog as a Minimalism one. I’ve got some ideas about where I’m going with this, but want to let it work up into something new in a natural, heartfelt way. There will probably be more grab-a-cuppa-something chatty posts between the more serious and introspective ones, which I suspect won’t be a problem for most of my readers.

That being said, if you have preferences about the kinds of posts I do, this is a good time to let me know in the comments

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This Space, of Course

It’s time for a bit of spring cleaning and redecorating on the blog, and some changes will be appearing over the next few days. No worries–it will still be the same blog with sundry writing by yours truly, but I wanted to step things up and expand my range of topics to include more lifestyle posts along with the essays. Many changes will be made live, so if something changes while you’re reading a post, that’s what is going on. Feel free to let me know what you think

Update, 18 April:

The new header with logo and tagline is up, and we’re working on shaking up the categories and rewriting my About page. Still waiting for my new glasses to arrive, and hope they make for a fresh new author’s photo, too. I think my life as a writer is at one with my life as a Minimalist, and I want to convey more of that in my blog.

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We'll Take of Ourselves, Thank You Very Much

“Simple living” often includes having a garden. Now, a garden can mean many things, from a substantial vegetable plot to a small sitting area with a few shrubs and a birdbath. No matter what kind or how large, gardens all too often go from simple to overwhelming, and what started as a pastoral dream can turn into a money and time pit. All joking aside, however, a minimalist approach doesn’t have to mean turning your yard over to asphalt or concrete.

I once had a landscape design company for about fifteen years, parlaying an art degree, remodeling experience, farmgirl knowledge, a bit of traveling and a whole lot of necessity into a way of earning a living. My typical client was upper middle class and totally besotted with the pictures of beautiful gardens in decorating and style magazines, and wondered if they, too could have the lush and airbrushed masses of perennials and flowering shrubs to give them “year-round interest” in an “easy-care” way.

It was the 1990′s and the economy was endlessly good, so they were going to have what they wanted to have, and they were going to have it now. Stratified rock gardens, courtyards with pea gravel and slate, formal “French” boxwood-framed herb gardens, topiary, statuary, arbors, trellises, fountains, and of course the lush “English Cottage Style” perennials sprouted where there was once sod and maybe a concrete pad. The transformations were amazing, and made a nice portfolio.

I designed gardens for a clientele that didn’t actually garden. Some of the retirees and over-achievers among them did get into the weeding, pruning, watering, deadheading, and other nurturing and maintenance elements, but for the most part they hired help, lacking the time or inclination to keep up even a ready-made garden. This does not necessarily reflect badly on them: it really was at least a part-time job to maintain those large picturesque tableaus, especially in the decidedly non-English, non-French climate of Northwest Indiana.

There were also many clients who wanted to put in the garden themselves, even the hardscape elements, but wanted the layout, the proportions, the specifications, and plant list in order to save a lot of the trial-and-error that costs time and money. They, too, were often sold on the idea that the romantic gardens they wanted were also low-maintenance, and I spent a lot of consultation time gently coaxing them back to reality.

When I think back to those days, I recall that a lot of the principles of real low-maintenance gardens are more valid than ever in these days of tighter budgets and more realistic priorities. Nonetheless, they weren’t always the most ecologically sound elements. Take water, for instance: profuse gardens are the ones that get plenty of water, and that means irrigation systems in just about every climate other than the Pacific Northwest.

Native species plantings are good up to a point, as they need less water, but they are often prone to spreading like wildfire, which is not exactly low-maintenance. I shudder when I think back to the grasses and groundcovers that I’ve had to dig up, the ones with root balls as hard as concrete and which were threatening to break up concrete patios, as well. Worse than trees, some of them.

Other low-maintenance ideas, however, are still good. I’m a great advocate of creating patios, walkways, and sitting areas of pea gravel with borders and inserts of pavers. Done right, the gravel stays put, drainage is no problem, and any weeds that show up are easily popped out. The right kinds of shrubs and trees can provide a lot of impact as well as habitats for birds, bees, and butterflies. Careful selection of perennials will do the same and naturally provide more plants for you and for sharing.

These days I would recommend that a new gardener start with a priority list BEFORE browsing magazines and books for style ideas. You want to be certain your garden is going to fill your true needs, and not what a marketer seduces you into wanting. The first thing to list is why do you want a garden in the first place? Is it someplace to sit? Is it for food? Is it an important element for your psyche? Is it intended to raise the value of your home?

Next would be understanding your climate, sunlight, and soil. The most dedicated gardener in the world cannot grow most vegetables if there aren’t enough hours of direct sunlight or decent, well-drained soil. Is there enough rain for the kinds of plants you want to grow? If watering will be needed, are there restrictions in your area?

Next would be to list the elements that will achieve your garden’s purpose. If the garden is for entertaining, is there enough level ground or patio area for furnishings, and are insects at a tolerable level? Will you need privacy screens, lighting, or some kind of shade or windbreak? Does the intended garden have good drainage or is it a mud puddle when it rains? Will you have to bring in decent top soil in order for anything to grow?

All of these elements will involve time, effort, and/or money, so they are important to consider. Decide what is the bare-bones minimum you can tolerate or afford for the garden to serve its intended purpose, and go with that. Only add to it after you’ve proven to yourself it is a cinch to take care of what you already have. And never, ever believe the photos in the magazines. Just don’t, okay?

I transplanted a lot of perennials from my old garden to save money, and it is a classic demonstration of the difference between part-sun and full sun: the perennials which grew and bloomed in a controllable way at our old place went berserk in the new place; even dwarf varieties  threatened to become trees in a single season, and threatened to destroy the patio my husband built. Minimalist it wasn’t. On the other hand, many of the plants did better than before, particularly the alliums, daisies, and coral bells, and there were even surprise tagalong seedlings of wiegela and a blue juniper that are flourishing, so it is almost like having a free plant nursery

Over time, though, I was as ruthless with the garden as I was with the basement and closets: if it didn’t fit the program, out it went. We planted trees which would be the right size when full-grown, and pulled out shrubs that blocked windows and were too hard to maintain. Mowing lines were simplified. Naturalized plants like black-eyed susans and daylilies are simply dug up and given away or tossed when they grow beyond a certain boundary. Bee-friendly plants are given free reign, but not where we sit. If a plant needs more water than nature normally provides, tough luck. All of this was done on a pittance.

There’s still a spot that gets a bit out of control, but I’ve got plans for it (quickly hiding the concrete guy’s phone number). Even with a minimalist approach, however, the garden is still our very own green and pleasant land.

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McCutcheon, who holds a BA in eMarketing and is also the author of the blog Ex-Consumer, provides the reader with the “tools and information needed in order to wake up and break free” of all the ways that marketers devise to get us to buy their products.

Many of us think marketing and advertising are the same or interchangeable, but advertising is actually one element of the larger category of marketing. McCutcheon shows how marketing works, using the example of the Swiffer mop from conception to advertising, to show that “by the time a message gets to us it has already been through the marketing funnel.” That funnel includes extensive market research, to determine just what product features and consumer needs to combine to make an irresistable product.

In my own book, The Minimalist Woman’s Guide to Having it All, I go into the psychological vulnerabilities that are exploited by advertising, creating the sense that we are not good enough just as we are. McCutcheon takes this from philosophy to the hard facts, showing how consumer addicts are created. We might think we are immune to advertising ploys, but it is so pervasive and so effective, that “…if you’ve ever replaced an item even though it still worked or could be fixed, then you’ve likely been influenced by advertising messages that were successful in making you desire a product.”

Advertising is taken a step further by the media. A company knows how to advertise its product, but media know how to sell the market to the marketers. There’s a difference between an ad and ad space, which McCutcheon covers in depth. A variation on ad space in magazines and such is product placement, which is when you spot a can of Coke in a situation comedy. Is it there because the company bought the placement, or was it placed because the company was so successful in making the product an icon of a certain sensibility or status?

As McCutcheon takes us further into the world of marketing, we see it gets worse, much worse. She prepares us by giving us the same opportunity to understand our own motivations for the way we spend our time and money that the marketers have. She provides a series of Action Steps to help us help ourselves, to not only avoid media, but to be wise to more subtle tricks, such as changes in the amount of product in a package, and marketing that is aimed at our kids, from those big bright playgrounds at Mickey D’s to the stuff that the “cool kids” are wearing and using, known as peer-to-peer marketing.

I learned a lot about peer-to-peer and subliminal marketing from this book, things I’d never heard of when my son was in school, and things that make me wonder if I’d ever seen them in action. She also goes into strategies called Stealth Marketing, where actors with a product are placed in public spaces and using the product in a conspicuous way.

Neuromarketing is the future, where every manner of brain wave and neural responses are observed to create a marketing strategy so finely tuned that it plays to our individual wiring and personal history. A simpler form of this is interest-based advertising. I’ve recently encountered this after ordering glasses from Zenni Optical. Now ads for that company pop up when I use Google and Facebook. It’s not an accident.

Wake Up includes many links to helpful sites and videos to further educate yourself and your family. Buying and reading this book, however, is an excellent first step, and includes a money-back guarantee.

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