Another piece of my heart...gone

Spring Training 2014 - Helen cheering on our Tigers

I have started this post ten times already. I've erased pictures and words and I've closed the browser a few times. If I don't write it maybe it won't be true to me. Maybe I won't feel it so much. And yet...I do. The tears once again cloud my eyes as I refuse to wipe them away...

Thursday I was standing in the paper towel aisle at the grocery store when I got the bad news. Normally I wouldn't have answered the call from my mom at the grocery store, I'd have sent it to voicemail and called her back from the car or the house. But her and my dad were on vacation up north and we hadn't talked in a few days and I wasn't sure when they'd have service again so I picked up. And that's when my mom told me. 

Helen had passed away.

My hand went to my mouth. I audibly gasped and started to cry. In all the world I had not been expecting that call on that day. We've had our share of loss and sadness over the past year or so. Too many funerals. Too many goodbyes. Too many tears. And in the back of my mind, I know more are coming. People get older. People get sicker. But I try not to dwell. 

But Helen wasn't sick. She was fine. My parents had spent a few weeks with her at her home in Florida this winter. They'd gone to spring training and cheered on our Tigers. They'd played board games and gone golfing. We were cooking up a scheme to all fly to Florida over Thanksgiving break and spend the week with her in the sun. The first time we'd all be there together with her in a long time. But it wasn't too be. She had a stroke and slipped away. Quietly. Quickly. Without my parents getting down there. Without us even knowing. The phone call from a nephew broke the news. 

Winter 2014

Helen is family. By blood? No. But by more than that. She has just been Helen as long as I can remember. Not aunt or grandma or anything. Just Helen. She has been a rock, a friend, a confidant, a cheerleader. There are pictures from Europe and Tiger games sitting on my shelf to mail her this week. My dad's slippers are still under the guest bed at her house. Helen. 

I last talked with her on the phone on Christmas day. She was proud of me going after what I wanted. She told me not to let anyone stand in my way, certainly no man. I said no, ma'am, I wouldn't let that happen, with a smile in my voice. She thanked us for the Christmas cookies we'd expressed shipped down there and we promised more soon. She'd emailed just a few weeks ago to tell me she was enjoying my blogs and to write more often. Something a grandma would and did often say. 

She had a hard life. Lost a child to a car accident then a husband to addiction. Found a new community and vitality in Florida, her own space, her own life. Amazed all of us by traveling the globe and finding a boyfriend and adopting a little dog to devote her days to. 

More than anything, Helen is a piece of my heart. She is a piece of the family that raised me. Her mother was my Grandma Susie. And so many summer evenings were spent being coaxed off the diving board at her pool on Grand River in Howell. Listening to my parents and her and Rube laugh. Loving that we had people who wanted to spend their time with us. Not because they had to but because they chose too. 

Once I lost all of my blood grandparents I took solace in the fact that I still had an older generation of family in my life. And I hold on to that. I still do, even if today, a piece of my heart has flown away. A very big piece.

Winter 2014

A little postscript (8/27/14):
Helen's funeral was yesterday, Mom said it was lovely. Family and friends and flowers and then the pastor asked for people to share stories.

My aunt Wensday told about a hat with flowers on it that traveled around between Helen and some other family members for a while which made me smile. And as my mom was talking I thought about something I hadn't remembered in a while.

When we went to Disney World for the first time in 1988 I was just ten years old. It was the first time we went on a real vacation, staying in hotels and all that jazz. (My family was a family of tent campers, good, bad, and monsoon.) And Helen took the time to put together little envelopes for us to open on the trip. I don't remember what was in all of them though I do remember stickers on the envelopes and little handwritten notes and instructions to open this one on Day 2, Day 3, etc. But I do remember there being a little bit of money in the last envelope, to buy a souvenir with. And I remember thinking that was just about the coolest thing ever, that Helen made us this little game. Because that's what she was, just about the coolest person ever.

That's the story I would have told yesterday when the pastor asked for people to share. That and the fact that she instilled in me a great desire to someday live in a house with an INGROUND swimming pool, just like she had.

I'm sad I wasn't there yesterday, to hug my family and to pray as she was laid to rest but I take solace in the fact that I will have her memories with me always. Always.

The notes call went WELL!

So yesterday it happened again. Another conference call. Another few minutes of butterflies just before I dialed in one whole minute early and waited to be joined on the call by the network executives and my producers.

I had expected to be more nervous. I really did. I expected to not be able to focus or not be able to sit still as usually is the case when I'm anxious. But that didn't happen. Maybe it's perspective. I've been getting a lot of that lately. Maybe because this is finally the real thing. Maybe because this is just a part of life that is what it is. It's exciting. It's amazing. It's wonderful. But really? It's just a part of it all.

So I was nervous but not too nervous. More so that we had handed in an actual script this time. With my name on it alone. And this was the first time anyone at the network was reading my writing, not just my ideas or my thoughts.

So how did it go?

Really freaking well.

Mind you, this was my first one of these. My first time getting notes on a draft. But still? I think it went well. They told us what they liked, they thanked us for incorporating so many of their notes from the outline so well, and then they gave us their thoughts.

And told us we had eight more pages to play with. Which never happens. I'm constantly cutting my scripts, trying to fit them into these prescribed boxes of page counts, act outs and act ins, blah blah blah. It's all important in television writing and I get that. I've been getting it for over five years now. But I also love that I've finally been told, okay, we get it, you can writing in the box. Now color outside a little. I LOVE THAT.

Their notes were specific and general. But not specific enough that they don't want to hear what I and the producers have to say. They said do this but not how to do it. And I love that.

So what's next?

A rewrite. Adding pages. Making things that need to jump off the page fly off the page. Reworking and retooling some stuff. And having fun. Because, as I often tell my writing students, if you do all the hard work when you outline, the writing is a breeze. And that's what I'm hoping for this week and next. A fun breeze.

So here we go -- to official draft two. Due right after Labor Day though we'll get it in before the long weekend so we can all enjoy (strong hints were shared about this during the call). For now? A good call, a smile on my face, and my fingers typing really fast! I love it!

Draft one and done!

We beat our deadline by one day. It feels good too. To have a draft done. To have a script to work with.

Yes, I finished my first draft of the new pilot and we turned it into the television studio this morning. I finished the draft on Monday. And then I had some of my peeps read it and tell me where I misspelled things and what really didn't make sense. And then last night I met with my producers for about three hours and we did the unbearable: we cut the script by five pages. FIVE PAGES. That's a whole act in sitcom land! But we did it. And?

It wasn't horrible. It wasn't unbearable at all. In fact it was exciting and fun and every cut we made made perfect sense. And I love this newest, cleanest, leanest version more than anything!

And best of all?

It's not the end.

Yes, I typed END OF SHOW at the end of the script. Yes, I registered my script with the Writers Guild. Yes, we turned it into the network executives. But we get to do that again a few more times before decisions are made. And that's exciting. Very exciting.

So what's next? Well, we wait. Again. There's a lot of that. And that's okay. Because I have papers to grade and notes to organize and a house to clean in preparation of the first big birthday celebration tomorrow night! I have a cake to make (or at least procure), I have other writing to do and I have some books piling up beside the bed. So we just wait. That's all. But again, with hope.

P.S. - My friend Carol Reinig made this for me and posted it on Facebook. Too fun!

A pilot in development

On July 9 I had my first TV pitch meeting at a network. There was some discussion as to what would happen next but there wasn't a clear path and I decided to just be patient and wait. Something I don't always do well. But I did it. I went back to Detroit and I helped to plan a bridal shower and I showed off pictures of my Europe trip and I pushed the grandneighbors on the swings at the park. And then not a full week later I got a voicemail from one of my producing partners.

It seems the television network liked our pitch. Very much. I asked what this meant exactly. Were they buying the pilot? No. Not yet. We had some work to do first.

We had a very positive, very pleasant call with the network executives. They told us how excited they were by our project. How excited the film studio behind the television studio was by our project and our main character. How much they loved the story. And what they wanted to see happen with our show. And they gave us a very tight timeline in which to present to them an outline and a pilot script.

And so, we started working. I spent the next few days drafting an outline. Having conference calls and pouring over the Google doc with my producers. And then there was another conference call with the network. Interestingly, they're becoming old hat now. I mean, I've only had a handful of them but we have a rhythm. They tell us what they want to see in the next draft of something, we ask a few questions, and the meeting is done. Bing bam boom. Easy peasy. Well, for now anyway.

So after the big conference call with several execs I asked my producers what this all means. And officially, they said we have a pilot in development.

I love those words. I've heard them around town for years. They're vague and invite curiosity and questions. No one is really sure what they mean. You could be shooting a show in a month. You could be working on the same script in a year. But most of all? Those words contain in them so much hope. Hope that you're moving forward. Hope that you're on the right path. Hope that what's next might be big and exciting.

Hope.

It has been just three weeks since that first call with the network. Since then we've turned in two drafts of an outline and just this morning I got the email from the network that we're ready to go to script. That means next they want to see a full draft. In 10 days. So here we go...

It's been a crazy and exciting and terrifying and amazing couple of months. I've been to Europe and Detroit and done so much. It's really been just the best summer. And now? Now I get to spend the next month writing with hope. Working with hope. I'm just, beyond thrilled. Really. It's almost like I'm in shock. Just getting it done. Getting the words on the page, trying not to think too much about the what if and the how and the what. Just doing what I do best. Writing.

And being happy. When I got the news that we were in development I was able to share my excitement with my family and some of my very best friends back home in person. I love that. I love that they opened champagne and toasted with me. I love that we talked and talked and then went right back to making s'mores and chasing lightening bugs. Because that balance, that amazing balance, is what makes everything worthwhile.