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<div class="at-above-post-homepage addthis_tool" data-url="https://blog.lareviewofbooks.org/essays/outdoor-shower-three-acts/"></div>My countdown begins in mid-February. It is not simply a calendar watch for summer (though my frosty New England heart warms at the thought), but for one of summer’s attendant pleasures: the outdoor shower. If there was ever a symbol of leisure, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, it could be found in a three-sided wooden enclosure under an umbrella of blue sky.
My friend Jennifer’s husband, Rick, is also an outdoor shower devotee. When they visited our Long Island Sound rental for the July 4th holiday this year, one of the first things he said was: “Hey, did they redo the outside shower? Looks great.”
By mid-afternoon, beachside, we were back on the topic, generating a list of shower superlatives. “You know what is the best? Taking an outside shower after a run,” I said, “Or after the beach.”
“A cold beer in the outside shower after the beach — that’s the best.” he offered.
Most definitely.
“Didn’t you two have the same exact conversation last summer?” Jen said. We looked at each other and shrugged. We had.
<img loading="lazy" class="aligncenter wp-image-9217 size-large" src="http://blog.lareviewofbooks.org/wp-content/uploads/2018/09/outdoor-shower-1-768x1024.jpeg" alt="" width="640" height="853" srcset="https://blog.lareviewofbooks.org/wp-content/uploads/2018/09/outdoor-shower-1-768x1024.jpeg 768w, https://blog.lareviewofbooks.org/wp-content/uploads/2018/09/outdoor-shower-1-225x300.jpeg 225w" sizes="(max-width: 640px) 100vw, 640px" />
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“A shower bath such as is shown in Figure 9 can be built at very little expense and will be very much appreciated by boys on the farm.”
-Bulletin of the Agricultural and Mechanical College of Texas, October 1915
My earliest memories of the outdoor shower are more punishing than romantic. Where I grew up on the coast, I was a townie, not a member of the summer crowd — the latter of whom had rustic outdoor showers affixed to their shingled cottages, and who used to wash off the salt and sand from Cape Cod Bay. My family did have an outdoor shower, but we had to travel three hours up north to a small lake house in an even smaller town called Gilmanton, New Hampshire to use it.
As a child, going up to Gilmanton did not feel like respite. Rather, it was all-work-all-the-time. My sister and I would be in charge of raking the small sandy beachfront and other various outside tasks. My parents would spend half of the weekend opening up the house and completing a never-ending punch list of projects and the other half closing up the house before our long drive home. Although there was an indoor shower and bath, my parents didn’t like to use it because they hadn’t yet replaced the septic system. Given that, the existence of our outside shower was more out of necessity than it was luxury.
It lacked hot water and though Plato suggests, in <a href="http://classics.mit.edu/Plato/laws.6.vi.html">The Laws</a>, that temperate water should be reserved for the aged, I did not subscribe to the notion that my youth merited cold water. Nor that it was invigorating or character-building, as my parents suggested. I begged to bathe in the lake, since even in late fall, that water seemed warmer than what came out of the shower spigot. Most times I lost that battle and winced as the icy pelt came fast and furious. Often, I did little to fully wash out the shampoo from my thick mop of hair, simply trying to make it out of the shower as quickly as possible.
The earliest prototype of the outdoor shower exists in nature: the waterfall. The liberating aspects associated with bathing outdoors have long served as a trope in both art and <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PKwn9398aQw">commerce</a>. Over time, the form of manmade showers evolved along with technological advances. With the Greco-Roman introduction of aqueducts came outdoor fountains and bathhouses. When William Feetham’s patent for the first shower appeared in 1767, an indoor alternative to the bath (facilitated by a hand pump) was born.
Broadly speaking, however, showers emphasized function. They used less water and were more expedient. Though the mid-19th century brought luxuries of indoor plumbing to many regions, it wasn’t long before many realized these relative benefits of bathing outdoors — especially when one needed to clean off after manual labor. Just like that, the outdoor shower came into vogue, particularly in farming communities.
A clear value proposition for the outdoor shower is offered by the October 1915 Bulletin of the Agricultural and Mechanical College of Texas, which advocates construction of an apparatus that can be built “with very little expense” and will be “very much appreciated by boys on the farm.” The accompanying line drawn figure and description recommend adding the shower in the tower for the elevated water tank as this would help save costs on the galvanized pipe, which would run between five and 12 cents per foot, depending on thickness.
<img loading="lazy" class="alignnone wp-image-9218 size-full" src="http://blog.lareviewofbooks.org/wp-content/uploads/2018/09/outdoor-shower-2.png" alt="" width="518" height="828" srcset="https://blog.lareviewofbooks.org/wp-content/uploads/2018/09/outdoor-shower-2.png 518w, https://blog.lareviewofbooks.org/wp-content/uploads/2018/09/outdoor-shower-2-188x300.png 188w" sizes="(max-width: 518px) 100vw, 518px" />
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“I&#8217;m gonna wash that man right outa my hair,
I&#8217;m gonna wash that man right outa my hair,
I&#8217;m gonna wash that man right outa my hair,
And send him on his way.”
-Rodgers and Hammerstein, South Pacific
It was the movie version of the musical South Pacific that began to change my mind about showering outdoors.
During my fifth grade year, my school chorus wore colorful leis and sang a medley of tunes from Rodgers and Hammerstein’s South Pacific, including excerpts from “There is Nothin’ Like a Dame” and “I’m Gonna Wash That Man Right Outa My Hair.” (In hindsight, this repertoire was perhaps an odd choice for 10 and 11-year-old girls and boys.) In preparation, I watched the 1958 film version wherein actress Mary Martin sings while washing her hair along with a group of other women echoing her verse of female empowerment. The water may have been cold, but the sun was shining as she smiled and danced through the song. That summer, my cold New Hampshire showers took on new meaning as I hummed the tune under the water’s spray and tried to channel their Broadway-style enthusiasm.
<figure id="attachment_9219" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-9219" style="width: 855px" class="wp-caption aligncenter"><img loading="lazy" class="size-full wp-image-9219" src="http://blog.lareviewofbooks.org/wp-content/uploads/2018/09/south-pacific-image-1949.jpg" alt="" width="855" height="590" srcset="https://blog.lareviewofbooks.org/wp-content/uploads/2018/09/south-pacific-image-1949.jpg 855w, https://blog.lareviewofbooks.org/wp-content/uploads/2018/09/south-pacific-image-1949-300x207.jpg 300w, https://blog.lareviewofbooks.org/wp-content/uploads/2018/09/south-pacific-image-1949-768x530.jpg 768w" sizes="(max-width: 855px) 100vw, 855px" /><figcaption id="caption-attachment-9219" class="wp-caption-text">The original Broadway cast of &#8220;South Pacific,&#8221; 1949</figcaption></figure>
At the end of August that same summer, I went over to my friend, Brad’s, for the day. Brad lived across the street during the school year, but come summer, his family decamped to a beach house a mile down the road. At his house, there was an outside shower that we used only after ocean swims and wading through the marsh at low tide. Here, an outside shower served a clear purpose for Brad’s mother (it kept us from tromping through the house while she was preparing dinner) but also entertained us because it was outside of the norm. At that age, and even now, simply adding a friend to any equation makes the ordinary seem like an event…a future memory. We still laugh about the pranks we would pull on the unsuspecting shower goer — like shaking baby powder or pouring a pitcher of lemonade over the top enclosure (in our defense: we were only 11).
A photograph accompanying the article “Lawn Shower Keeps Children Cool,” from the <a href="https://books.google.com/books?id=AygDAAAAMBAJ&amp;pg=PA61&amp;lpg=PA61&amp;dq=popular+science+and+outdoor+shower&amp;source=bl&amp;ots=47KzHQGkwe&amp;sig=t2ErsRPt_k2s3qWRaAsszmWHv9g&amp;hl=en&amp;sa=X&amp;ved=2ahUKEwiG2tWwhpvdAhXNmeAKHbyZAncQ6AEwDnoECAEQAQ#v=onepage&amp;q=popular%20science%20and%20outdoor%20shower&amp;f=false">July 1933 issue of </a><a href="https://books.google.com/books?id=AygDAAAAMBAJ&amp;pg=PA61&amp;lpg=PA61&amp;dq=popular+science+and+outdoor+shower&amp;source=bl&amp;ots=47KzHQGkwe&amp;sig=t2ErsRPt_k2s3qWRaAsszmWHv9g&amp;hl=en&amp;sa=X&amp;ved=2ahUKEwiG2tWwhpvdAhXNmeAKHbyZAncQ6AEwDnoECAEQAQ#v=onepage&amp;q=popular%20science%20and%20outdoor%20shower&amp;f=false">Popular Science</a> magazine posits outdoor showers as a way to keep children occupied and out of the house.  In the piece the magazine provides simple instructions featuring an easy-to-follow diagram for readers to make an outdoor lawn shower. A list of the various components needed for its construction are provided based on the author’s DIY experience, the project’s cost was estimated at $1.94. (A clean house and occupied children: priceless.)
<img loading="lazy" class="alignnone wp-image-9220 size-full" src="http://blog.lareviewofbooks.org/wp-content/uploads/2018/09/outdoor-shower-3.png" alt="" width="832" height="828" srcset="https://blog.lareviewofbooks.org/wp-content/uploads/2018/09/outdoor-shower-3.png 832w, https://blog.lareviewofbooks.org/wp-content/uploads/2018/09/outdoor-shower-3-150x150.png 150w, https://blog.lareviewofbooks.org/wp-content/uploads/2018/09/outdoor-shower-3-300x300.png 300w, https://blog.lareviewofbooks.org/wp-content/uploads/2018/09/outdoor-shower-3-768x764.png 768w" sizes="(max-width: 832px) 100vw, 832px" />
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 “There was an outdoor shower…where you could gaze at the stars while washing your hair”
-J. Courtney Sullivan, Maine
By the mid-20th century, the outdoor shower had shifted from a routine step after manual labor to a backyard feature to finally a symbol of leisure.  In the 1942 book <a href="https://books.google.com/books?id=H7Jp0xbMvDMC&amp;q=Your+House+in+the+Country:+A+Practical+Handbook+for+City+Dwellers+and+An+outdoor+shower&amp;dq=Your+House+in+the+Country:+A+Practical+Handbook+for+City+Dwellers+and+An+outdoor+shower&amp;hl=en&amp;sa=X&amp;ved=0ahUKEwi_hInuh5vdAhVINd8KHfsSC6IQ6AEIKTAA">Your House in the Country: A Practical Handbook for City Dwellers</a>, second-home owners are offered advice for the construction of this seasonal edifice to complement their seaside escape from urban life. “An outdoor shower…is a necessity at the shore to prevent tracking mud and sand all over the house. A trellis with vines (not roses, for obvious reasons) furnishes an attractive screen which is adequate, since the shower will be used during the summertime only.”
The highpoint of my adult summers is the time we spend at a well-worn beach house on the Connecticut shoreline. The house itself hasn’t seen an update for many decades, but its location — and of course, the outside shower — carries me through the gray months of winter.
My favorite is the post-beach Golden Hour shower, where I can hear the crack of the Wiffle bat from kids playing pickup games on the large shared lawn, or the neighbor’s reggae-inspired playlist amidst the ambient hum of cicadas. I no longer need to channel Broadway-style enthusiasm, for in these moments I am fully transported by just closing my eyes.
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 “If liberation is the spirit of summer&#8217;s luxury — bare feet, open windows, short sleeves, long weekends — then showering outdoors deserves to be in the first line of freedom. For devotees, it embodies the romance of a summer day.”
-William L. Hamilton, “The Outdoor Shower: A Spray from Heaven” The New York Times, August 5, 1993.
Last week, Brad texted me a photo of his newly-completed outdoor shower at his summer place in Provincetown. Of its function, I have no doubt. Nor do I question its aura of leisure — ably communicated via image, though I have yet to see it in person. Its rain shower head is angled to allow for sand and salt removal, while tucked away in a cozy courtyard flanked by begonias and potted ferns. It looks perfect.
<img loading="lazy" class="alignnone wp-image-9221 size-large" src="http://blog.lareviewofbooks.org/wp-content/uploads/2018/09/outdoor-shower-4-768x1024.jpeg" alt="" width="640" height="853" srcset="https://blog.lareviewofbooks.org/wp-content/uploads/2018/09/outdoor-shower-4-768x1024.jpeg 768w, https://blog.lareviewofbooks.org/wp-content/uploads/2018/09/outdoor-shower-4-225x300.jpeg 225w" sizes="(max-width: 640px) 100vw, 640px" />
Before next summer season, I will have my own rectangle of aquatic retreat. It will be tucked away in my modest-sized backyard that is closer to Boston’s city limits than it is to the beach, but I’m not complaining.
In fact, I’m counting down the days.
&nbsp;
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The Outdoor Shower, In Three Acts

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<div class="at-above-post-homepage addthis_tool" data-url="https://blog.lareviewofbooks.org/essays/jami-attenbergs-1000wordsofsummer-turned-corner-internet-supportive-literary-community/"></div>In the first lines of Robert Fagles’s translation of Homer’s Odyssey, one of the central myths of artistic production is offered when the narrator speaks, “Sing to me, oh Muse…Launch out on his story, Muse…start from where you will…” These words construct the trope of the inspired storyteller — that is, the empty vessel waiting for the signal, and then the content, to convey. This notion, that artistic inspiration comes from an ethereal apparition — The Muse — has likely stunted the literary potential of many who have waited for an external creative catalyst to strike, instead of putting pen to paper or hands to keyboard.
Writing is work. And writing well, amidst all of our available distractions, online and otherwise, can be hard work. But this summer, one writer found a way to turn a potential distraction — the internet — into a motivational force and an affirming pop-up literary community in only two weeks.
On May 22, novelist <a href="http://www.jamiattenberg.com/">Jami Attenberg</a> posted online: “So I’m going to do a thing with a friend where we write at least 1000 words a day from June 15-29 and I will probably post word counts and if you want to play along and post yours let me know. Also maybe I will come up with a hashtag for it.”
Almost instantly, there was an enthusiastic response. Attenberg told me that she had originally posted the call on Instagram and since people started connecting so quickly, she decided to try another platform: Twitter. “I cross-posted…to see what would happen, and it was the same thing, just an instant enthusiasm for it. I was just excited to make something cool on the internet that would be helpful to people, and give them a comforting online experience, because so many of us have to sit in front of a computer all day, and it’s obviously such a hellscape right now.”
Many writers, in fact, lament over the number of their words that are “wasted” responding to the latest Twitter-drama instead of focusing on their own creative projects. “If you took all the time and all the words you used on Twitter&#8230; you could have written a book by now. #sadfacts,” <a href="https://twitter.com/AndrewBravener/status/381147988640665600">observes one user</a>.
But instead of perpetuating this regret, Attenberg turned her attention to creative empowerment. Within days, there was a hashtag: #1000wordsofsummer, and within weeks, a newsletter with almost 3000 subscribers. Once June 15 arrived, the daily emails from Attenberg commenced — some featuring guest commentary from other writers like <a href="http://www.megwolitzer.com/">Meg Wolitzer</a>, <a href="http://www.alissanutting.com/">Alissa Nutting</a>, and <a href="http://adalimon.com/">Ada Limón</a>. I printed out the newsletters each day and highlighted the words that resonated most with me; from novelist <a href="http://lauravandenberg.com/">Laura van den Berg</a>: “Here is the bottom line: I think often of what a painter said to me at a residency: &#8216;work makes more work.&#8217; Indeed it does. Let’s do what we can.&#8221;;
From <a href="http://leitch.tumblr.com/">Will Leitch</a>, founding editor of Deadspin: “The hardest part is getting it down the first time. I’m able to be productive because I don’t think of writing as something that happens in my head. It’s a physical act. It’s building a shelf. It’s work. It’s making something that didn’t exist before. Get out of your head. Fill the box. Go make shit.&#8221;
There were thousands of #1000wordsofsummer Tweets with writers (some famous, some aspiring) sharing their word counts, challenges, and triumphs.
Eventually, what Attenberg began on a lark showed how positive and encouraging online communities can be.
“While it wasn’t necessarily my original intention,” she reflects, “it became clear quite quickly that the people participating in it had created their own corner of the internet. I hadn’t been part of something like that before…And I actually found myself looking forward to going on the internet each day, instead of being full of dread about the news. Because I could check in on how people were doing and seeing their progress and say supportive things to them. For two weeks, I was able to be positive in that space, and experience the joy of others as they made progress in their work.” 
 
In a world with automated labor and optimized performance, it may seem like our writing should be effortless. And when we hear about <a href="https://motherboard.vice.com/en_us/article/evvq3n/game-of-thrones-winds-of-winter-neural-network">neural networks “writing” novels</a> and <a href="https://www.npr.org/2018/06/30/624373367/more-states-opting-to-robo-grade-student-essays-by-computer">artificial intelligence technology “grading” student writing</a>, it can make us question the value of our individual humanity and our connection with others as essential ingredients in the writing process. Attenberg’s online community proves that other people can be vital to our work.
While in the thick of my own #1000wordsofsummer project, I listened to an interview that Patriots quarterback Tom Brady did with Oprah Winfrey. (Yes, at the same time I was trying to increase my writing word counts, I endeavored to optimize my health and fitness à la the TB12 Method.) Brady described how much the team dynamic is fundamental to his success as a professional athlete because there are people constantly working alongside you and motivating you. It got me thinking about how as writers, so much of what we do is independent in terms of actually sitting down and writing. I wondered what Attenberg thought about the value of a “team” or writing network in one’s life.
While she acknowledges that every writer’s process is different, “some writers just squirrel away when they are writing…and they just sort of live their lives and do their work and are self-contained,” she notes that her writing friendships are an important part of her life and that her advice for burgeoning writers is always to join a writer’s group.
She considers her own experience as a recent New Orleans transplant. “I left behind a big community of writers in New York City, and it’s been interesting to see how some of those relationships have been strengthened now that I’ve left, where I text and chat more with some writers than I did when I lived there. And I’ve worked hard over the last decade to build up relationships across America and around the world, too. I have great writer friends here…don’t get me wrong. But it’s definitely the talking that happens online and on the phone that keeps me bolstered.”
When I was doing my own 1000 words, it was usually late at night, after my family was asleep and the house was quiet. I would write in 25-minute bursts (yay Pomodoro method!) and during my breaks I would check in on Twitter. No matter the hour, I would search the hashtag and there were always other writers there posting their word counts or offering encouragement. That virtual connection with people was a real motivator. People — virtual strangers turned community members — would be so quick to affirm accomplishments, which often doesn’t happen on Twitter or in real life, for that matter. It felt like a supportive bubble that one could carry in their pocket to deploy at any time.
The second weekend of the cycle, in search of IRL accountability, I took a weekend workshop at a <a href="https://grubstreet.org/">local writing collective</a>. During our initial introductions, I learned that three other writers were also participating in #1000wordsofsummer. When I told Attenberg about this, she was surprised, yet pleased.
“Oh my god really? That’s amazing that you met people who were doing it! You know, I have no real sense of how many people were doing it, but it seemed like a lot — though not all, of course — of people were having a fun time with it, and that pleased me. Let’s stop making it feel torturous, and let’s not have so much guilt around it. A first draft should be somewhat freeing and fun, at least most of the time. I get so much out of my writing, and truly enjoy it, and I wanted people to just feel good about it.”
For thousands of writers this summer, the encouragement and accountability to get to work may be credited to a fellow writer’s offhanded tweet.
Many are still doing #1000wordsofsummer — some in their second, or even third cycles now, and Attenberg has sent the draft of her next novel off to her agent. She stresses how much the community experience buoyed her own work. “I need to emphasize that I got so much out of this. I had to show up every day for myself as much as for everyone else.”
At the end of June, one writer posted this report: “Last day of #1000wordsofsummer and I&#8217;ve gotten 2,453 words done and want to keep going but I had to stop myself because I&#8217;ve got to get ready to leave for Paris (!!!). I started this challenge with 19,746 words, and 14 days later, I have 41,748, which is quite frankly, astounding.”
“I love stories like these,” says Attenberg. “I’m obviously extremely touched that one small thing I did could motivate people. But look, half of the battle of writing is just giving yourself permission to be a writer. In my last letter I talked about hoping people realized they didn’t need me, or this project, that they can do this whenever they like. The writing is always going to be right there waiting for you.”
Yesterday, I started my third cycle of #1000words of summer (I’ve written more than 40 thousand words since June 15, thank you Jami!), and I am thankful to report that I am not alone. Search the hashtag on Twitter and you will find many others doing the same: “Joining <a href="https://twitter.com/KaylaCagan">@KaylaCagan</a> for <a href="https://twitter.com/hashtag/1000wordsofsummer?src=hash">#1000wordsofsummer</a> reboot today! Should you care to join us in crushing it, welcome. <a href="https://twitter.com/hashtag/amwriting?src=hash">#amwriting</a> <a href="https://twitter.com/hashtag/wegotthis?src=hash">#wegotthis</a>.” Writer Kayla Cagan chimed in as well: “Just wrote my 1,000+ words for Day 1, Round 3 of <a href="https://twitter.com/hashtag/1000wordsofsummer?src=hash">#1000wordsofsummer</a>. I’m starting Chapter 30 of this draft tomorrow. <a href="https://twitter.com/hashtag/Book3?src=hash">#Book3</a>”
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A postscript: this year, <a href="https://www.emilyrcwilson.com/the-odyssey/">Emily Wilson</a>’s much anticipated translation of The Odyssey — the first in English by a woman — reworks the epic’s opening lines, and in doing so, separates the work of the source and the storyteller, acknowledging the work inherent in both telling and retelling stories.
Tell me about a complicated man. Muse tell me how he wandered and was lost…tell me the old story for our modern times. Find the beginning.
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Jami Attenberg’s #1000WordsofSummer Turned a Corner of the Internet into a Supportive Literary Community

Amy Carleton&nbsp;holds a Ph.D. in English Literature and is a lecturer in MIT's Comparative Media Studies division. Her writing&nbsp;has appeared in publications including&nbsp;The New York Times,&nbsp;The Washington Post,&nbsp;The Atlantic,&nbsp;New York Magazine&nbsp;and others.&nbsp;