I approve. And so will you!

*Creatives* come in many flavors: writers, actors, dancers, musicians, cooks, painters, designers, and so on. Every one of us who considers ourselves a creative (whether established or emerging) has experienced the product of a fellow artist that moves us to wish we could claim that work as our own. I’m not talking here about mere jealousy or amazement: that one kid in high school who did things, everything, so well that you wanted to quit; the blow-your-mind solo that made a concert transcendent; the great masterpiece that brings you back to the same spot in the same museum over and over again through the years.

Every once in a while (if we’re lucky) we come across something that we greatly appreciate, and more so resonates deeply and even causes, no helps articulate, heightened empathy for its creator and his (or her, of course) outlook. This makes us want to make our own work, our own voice, even stronger. It leaves us saying, “Wow, that’s the piece I wish *I’d* written (composed, drawn, performed, played…).”

This is what I’ve found with Faith Salie’s delightful new release, Approval Junkie (Crown Archetype, 2016). You likely know her from such celebrated gigs as Wait Wait…Don’t Tell Me, CBS News Sunday Morning, Fair Game, and a variety of TV appearances (who wasn’t glued to VH1’s I Love…the 90’s?). She’s great in all of these. In this new book, Faith is even more. She’s real. Raw. Honest. Witty. Touching. And yes, of course, funny, very funny. Not just make-you-laugh funny – her gift is delivering intelligent funny. The kind of stuff that makes you think, while truly enjoying your own laughter.

As great art does, this extremely personal, episodic sort-of-autobiographical sketch not only lets the reader into the mind, the life, of the author; it pushes us to look into a mirror on our own story – examining our faults, flaws and flairs, recognizing that it’s more than o.k. to embrace them, and struggle with them at the same time, continually. She uses cultural references that resound with my peer group (you know, those of us stuck somewhere between the Baby Boom and Gen X) with ease – well, duh, that’s kind of her thing. Almost as if she wrote it directly for me, for us.

Along the way, Faith shares some profound insights that she’s gleaned along the way (so far). I am particularly stirred by her take on what we used to call “active listening,” as being a personal sound board has played such a large role for me, professionally and privately:

So here are some things I learned about listening. Master these interviewing skills, and the world is your oyster – becoming a truly fine listener creates a kind of magic that makes people fall in love with you a little, because you’re really helping them fall in love with themselves (p. 89, emphasis mine).

This is brilliant, and beautifully said. I’ve been writing for longer than I can remember – short stories, essays, articles, speeches, blog posts, attempts at witty social media – and sure, once in a while I’ve turned a phrase to be proud of. Approval Junkie is filled with lyrical treasures on every page. Portraying the profound (and I think still-developing) relationship with her late mother, Faith employs the description “vanilla” in a very special way:

“Vanilla” generally describes something or someone as ordinary or conventional. But if you think about it, vanilla is anything but. Vanilla is spicy – it’s literally a spice. (The world’s second-most expensive one after saffron – fun trivia fact for your next drunken cookie swap.) It comes from something as exquisite as an orchid. The Book of Spices characterizes vanilla as “pure and delicate.” Too class to beg for attention, it supports other ingredients. Vanilla doesn’t need to be the star, but it enhances everything.

Vanilla – who knew? And what a lovely and loving tribute to her mother, who obviously was the family MVP a la Magic Johnson – not only a superstar in her own right, but elevating the game of all around her.

The book is filled with what might be called a roller coaster of emotion: coping with her mother’s death, career ups and downs (and sideways), dealing with her frustrations regarding her “wasband” (the perfectly apt term she applies to her former spouse), the loving relationship with her brother, and so on. Yet reading it is not like being on a topsy-turvy ride. Rather we are given a wonderful glimpse into a journey of self-discovery, though seemingly unconventional, isn’t at all – as we are reminded, deeply, that it doesn’t matter *what* our story is, but we all have a story, a worthy story to tell.

I had the fortune to meet Faith a few years back (at a taping of Wait Wait in Elkhart, IN!). She was a delight in conversation as well as on stage. We left only wanting more (comically, to this day, Deb actually refers to her between us as “my friend Faith Salie”). With this volume, our banter continues. Thanks, Faith.

I approve. And so will you.