A process

Here's the thing I've slowly learned about writing. It's a process.

It doesn't just happen, it takes time and deliberate effort. It takes thought and planning and intention. It takes dedication and determination. And I'm not just talking about term papers or newspaper articles. I'm talking about every kind of writing from blogs to reports to letters to grandma to poems to screenplays. Writing is a process.

I've been working on my next screenplay for a few weeks now. I got the idea a few months ago and let it roll around in my head before bringing it to the light of day. I honestly cannot remember where I got the idea. Anyway, I finally decided to take it out for a test run. So one night when I was driving my friend Marc home from class, which I do every Wednesday night, I ran it by him. He told me if he was a studio exec he'd by it on the title alone. (And this is why you're not getting the title out of me, not yet anyway!) We talked and I was encouraged, and thankful for his opinions.

Then I had to pitch an idea to my section class a few weeks ago so I pitched this idea. And the response was, well, very good. I immediately got suggestions of old movies to watch, of how to proceed, even of jokes I could use. (We had quite the tangent going!) Again, I was encouraged.

As I've spent the last two weeks rewriting and editing my first script, Love and Embalming Fluid, this new idea has been running through my brain. I've got a few pages down but haven't had the time to do much else with it. And then I got an assignment from my new section teacher, who I haven't formally met yet, to create two five-minute pitches for our first class. And I got nervous. I started thinking, what if it sucks, what if it's a dumb idea and these people, these people who've become my friends over the last twenty-plus weeks, my writing family, were just being nice and humoring me.

So I thought some more and decided, no, it's a good idea (this thought was especially cemented after seeing I Love You, Man this weekend and some of the previews of upcoming movies, mine is not that far out there, trust me), in truth, it's a really good idea.

And yet I put off my homework for the last two weeks. Certainly not the thinking part of it, every night when I lay down I see scenes from this movie in my head or think of what I'll write for this or that scenario (I am so excited about one of the golf scenes, you do not know!). But the homework's due tonight so I finally made the decision to get it down on paper. And I did, I wrote the opening, of how we'll meet the main character. But you know what? I didn't actually come up with the idea, which is so great, Angela did. Yep. Angela.

See I tend to talk about my writing and my characters like they're real people, because to me, they are. I live with them, with them in my head, me in their heads, for months, years sometimes. Seriously. Some of the characters I am still working on have been around for nine, ten years. Just hanging out in my brain. (And this is why I cannot remember names very well or anything to do with numbers. I get a pass right? I mean I have all these people taking up space in my brain. It's just not possible to keep everything straight.) And if you live with me, then you're bound to hear about them. You're also bound to be forced into reading page after page, rewrite after rewrite and be subjected to questions like, "where exactly did you chuckle?" or "does the handkerchief make sense?"

Now let me back up a few years. I've had this idea for a film scene in my head for a while. A long while. It's this really cool shot of golf carts forming a kind of parade, filmed from up above. I've known what the scene will be and how it'll look forever. Seriously. This is the kind of stuff that fills up my phone number brain cells. And since I live with Angela, she knows this scene well too. We've been talking about my new script this weekend a little, casting choices, etc. All that very important stuff to consider when you don't even have an outline yet. And last night she had a brainstorm. She came up with a great opening scene for my new script that incorporates my main character and this scene I've had in my head.

So yeah, I'm excited. I finally wrote it up today after stewing on it and I'll see how it goes over tonight. Either way I'm thrilled because the new screenplay is starting to form. It's a process but such a fun, collaborative, creative process. And I'm the architect who's getting the ball rolling!

That's something...

I have been fortunate in my life to always have a car when I need one. First there was the trusty Ford Tempo my dad would let me borrow in high school. It was a treat to drive because you had to use two feet, keeping one on the gas at all times so it wouldn't stall out.

Then there was the Dodge Intrepid. I loved that car. We got it used but it was big and comfy and I felt like I owned the road when I drove it. And drive it we did, about into the ground. It kept Ang and I going for years, through college and grad school, through a summer in Tennessee (where she took it literally, over the cliff of a mountain), and on mission trips. It was a good car. Until it started to rot. There were tire issues, there was a transmission issue, I think an alternator issue. And we got screwed several times. How was I supposed to know no one in their right mind needs a $200 "special" oil change. Whatever.

But getting screwed when it comes to cars wasn't new territory. My dad got screwed once when he bought a used car from a friend (see paragraph one). And once, on our way to Disney World for the first time ever when I was ten, our brakes failed. The brand new brakes our neighbor had installed for us. And then there was the transmission that had to be replaced twice because the first guy didn't know what he was doing. Yeah. Long history of being screwed over by mechanics.

So I am leery to take my car to just anyone. When I'm home, it's Mike on the corner. He's been our go to guy for years. He fixes everyone's car in the family, the extended family too. Needless to say I was ecstatic when I bought my first BRAND NEW car out of grad school. And now, that the car's seven years old, it apparently isn't brand new anymore.

There was the battery issue a month or so back, with the infamous tows. And the corrosion in the battery block. Then my friend Michael drove my car a few weeks ago and said I needed to get the routers checked (I don't know what they are but they sound important because I do know they deal with the brakes). And Angela had a hard time stopping on a hill a couple weeks ago. Then there's the back hatch issue - the trunk won't open. Since November. And last time I was in they said I needed tires. So yeah, I knew there were issues. Issues you want to pretend just aren't there.

But I was getting this nagging feeling (God poking me perhaps) that I needed to take care of them. And when Angela's car needed to go into the shop this week for a new battery, I figured we'd go together. So off we went - to the dealership. And yes, I know what everyone says, dealerships rip you off. They're expensive. But you know what, I don't care. They're the only ones besides Mike I trust frankly.

So off we went to the dealership yesterday, in the Valley. Angela's car got done rather quickly, just a battery, checkup and oil change. But I wasn't so lucky. My car has to stay for a while.

Apparently I have brake fluid leaking from the rear brakes. And need all new tires. And a new battery block and connector cord. And an oil change. And a rear opening mechanism. And I might just have it painted purple while I'm there. What the heck, right? Everything else is going to be brand new.

So yeah, my car is still in the Valley. Will be until Saturday most likely. Between my classes, Angela's after school jobs, my internship, traffic, and when they close, we can't get up there before that. But we'll make it this week. We always do. And I'm thankful. Really thankful. Because I have a car. I have a family who helps me take care of it. And the tires didn't fly off when I couldn't stop. So that's something.

Internship

Finally. Let me just say that again.
Finally.

Something good happened. In a day filled with purchasing car batteries, returning car batteries, moving cars around the street, being overly frustrated by life, I got some good news.

I got the internship I'd applied for and "auditioned" for. Yep yep!

I'll be interning with Gold Circle Films, here in Los Angeles. They're an independent production company whose recent hits include The Wedding Date, My Big Fat Greek Wedding, New in Town, The Haunting in Connecticut, etc. And I am so geeked!

In order to get the job I had to write sample coverage, and that's what I'll be doing during my internship mostly - writing coverage. Coverage is basically two pages about a new script, kinda like the crib sheet or Cliff Notes. It includes some details, a synopsis and an analysis. It's what's sent to the higher ups in the company to determine whether or not they'll consider the project for production. (The basic entry-level job for all us industry folks.)

The script I covered was a horror movie and I basically broke the script down into three parts (one for each act) and then talked about what I thought worked and what I thought didn't work. This was actually the first time I'd written coverage and I thought it was a great learning experience, it helped me to figure out pacing and structure in a practical sense and then discuss what I thought about the script. Very cool, well to me anyway.

So yeah, I don't know the details yet but I'm excited. Finally. Something positive!!!!

Eggs

We all know what's in an egg when we crack it, right? Well...not necessarily. See sometimes the egg is hard-boiled, like the really tasty one I had for lunch (how can eggs taste different week to week, I have no idea but these eggs were from Sam's Club, maybe they have special tasty chickens working on the egg line). Sometimes it's raw and gets all over the counter when the shell is too hard to crack regularly and I have to hit it harder and it splatters. And once in a while you get a double yolk. (Which, for some reason, my seventh graders always considered "soooo gross" when it happened in FACS class).

But I got to thinking today that life is a lot like an egg. We all know what's inside but we're not quite sure how it's gonna present itself. Maybe it'll be hard-boiled, maybe it'll be raw, maybe it'll be disfigured and revolting, or maybe it'll be a fluffy pale yellow chick like you see in the Easter commercials.

Well lately my eggs have been rotten. Well, that's not fair, they haven't all been rotten. Some have been tasty and I've even given up the salt I used to sprinkle them with. Some have been fluffy when fried with cheese and served up next to toast. But some I've thrown in the trash can without even cracking, for fear of what was inside. I knew what was inside and I wanted none of it.

In one respect, life is good. I'm alive for starters. I am on the giving end of the Homeless Lunch line. I have a family who supports me unfailingly despite all my urgings not to. I have friends who seem to know just what I need to hear and say it to me constantly. I am writing well, my script is almost ready to be submitted to the big contest at school and to several industry folks. I have a new idea I'm working on that I love. I've had the opportunity to chat on the phone with several of my students and they're really great people. I've seen a lot of movies lately. I just finished reading a book. Not a script, a real book. I get to meet Diablo Cody in a few weeks (yes, I know, I'm a dork).

But then there's the other side. And I've blogged about it. I've complained about it on Facebook. I've cried over it. I've been angry and resentful and well, not in a good mood. And that sucks. I know, it's hard out there for everyone. I should be lucky I have any type of job at the moment. But sometimes, well, sometimes the eggs you get just stink. They're past their expiration date and you can't do anything with them, not even hard-boil them (which was always Mom's cure all for about to expire eggs). But I just have to wonder - will I ever get better eggs? Will there be a time when my eggs never expire? I'm not so sure. (Especially after going outside this morning, to go volunteer at 5P21, to find Ang's car dead. Yeah. Another dead car. Seriously? Do you have to throw the rotten eggs at me?)

But I do have hope and I guess that's the point of all this. I know things will be okay (and not just because that's what my grandpa used to say). If I didn't know that, what else would I have?

This morning I opened my email to find this forward, and it struck me. So much so that I printed it out on hot pink paper and posted it above my desk. And I thought I'd share it with you all. Just in case you got some bad eggs of your own this week...

Failure doesn't mean - "You are a failure,"
It means - You have not succeeded.

Failure doesn't mean - "You accomplished nothing,"
It means - You have learned something.

Failure doesn't mean - "You have been a fool,"
It means - You had a lot of faith.

Failure doesn't mean - "You don't have it,"
It means - You were willing to try.

Failure doesn't mean - "You are inferior,"
It means - You are not perfect.

Failure doesn't mean - "You've wasted your life,"
It means - You have a reason to start afresh.

Failure doesn't mean - "You should give up,"
It means - "You must try harder.

Failure doesn't mean - "You'll never make it,"
It means - It will take a little longer.

Failure doesn't mean - "God has abandoned you,"
It means - God has a better way for you.

Odds are

UPDATE:
Yeah, things could apparently get worse. Last night I was standing in the entry way between the living room and the dining room and saw something on the wall. I went to wipe it off and stopped. It was wiggling. So I got a napkin and wiped it off. All I got was the head. I had to pull the rest of it out - legs and all, out of a nail sized hole in the wall. I AM SO NOT JOKING.

We looked it up online and it appears to be some sort of burrowing termite. STILL NOT JOKING. It was fine, whatever, until a few minutes later I leaned against the wall and freaked out. Not just scared myself but had one of those moments where you completely lose yourself and have no control over your response to the situation. This never happens to me. Seriously. I am always in control. ALWAYS. But I started crying and shaking and I think it was just the last straw. The final bug. The THING that broke me.

I'm fine now but I just wanted everyone to know what happened in case I end up in the looney bin.

Things have to turn around, right? I mean it just seems as if lately it's bad news on top of bad news, one thing after another. And not just in the world but in my house.

We get rid of the ants, we find black widow spiders out back, oh and flies hatched. In our house. And they won't leave. We get the gates fixed, the washing machine starts throwing up. We move two steps forward with the landlord, two steps back. I don't know.

Angela got her pink slip Friday. We were so hopeful it wouldn't come. We had people praying in all different time zones. We were hopeful. We rationalized. We talked to people. But it still came. And as I signed for it I realized that while I firmly believe in my heart that everything happens for a reason, I hardly ever understand.

Oh and then Ang's phone got lost and then stolen Saturday. Yes. Things have to get better, right?

But there is a bright side. I've been walking for 10 days now - just 30 minutes but I've gotten my route down a little and I am going to start expanding on it this week. I can't do much more than that but I feel like it's something. It's about all my brain can wrap itself around right now and while I would love to do more, for right now, it's something. And I just finished my second quarter at UCLA and my screenplay is going so well. I'm on the fourth draft and it'll be finished by March 30th in time to turn in to the school. And I have a good chance at an internship with a production company, I had a phone interview this morning and am going to write some coverage (what the movie's about, what I thought, etc.) and turn it in and see how that goes.

Other than that life has been work (don't get me started - I got a bad review last week for making ONE mistake. ONE TINY MISTAKE. And yeah, I'm not happy) and school and writing and surviving. One day at a time. It's about all we can handle.

But odds are things have to get better, right? I mean, they have to. I firmly believe that. I do. I really really do.

Along my path

Today was Day 4 of my re-commitment to exercising, namely walking, every single day. Yes, yes. Re-re-commitment, whatever.

And because it's been SO nice outside I've made a point of getting out of the house to exercise and I'm so glad when I do, even if I procrastinate about getting there. Because spring is here folks, at least in Southern California, and it's beautiful. It's full of flowers and blue skies and light breezes and sunshine. So why wouldn't I be out there, right?

Today I decided I needed to take some pictures "along my path" so I did. And even though I tripped twice and felt a little like a paparazzi or someone casing the joint, I took my pictures. There's a few of them here and the rest are on Facebook.

What's popped up "along your path" lately?

Very. Cool. Day.

(This is a picture of Angela in "autopsy" - we didn't take cameras but one of the make-up ladies insisted we take a picture so I used my camera phone, not great but fun just the same!)

Tuesday was a first for me, and I'm hoping not a last. It was my first time on a film set. Ever. Yeah. I was pretty freaking excited.

I have friends who think it's no big deal because they've done it before but as a writer, it's something I know might not happen a lot, and as someone who's pretty new to the whole business, I feel I reserve the right to be excited about it. So I am. Still. Seriously excited.

I didn't set out to be a screenwriter. It was never on my radar when I was in high school or even in college. Sure I loved movies and I really loved television. ER inspired me to read books about the MCAT and med school, not film school. The West Wing prompted me to interview for jobs in D.C. not Los Angeles. Alias made me fill out the ridiculously long CIA application, not consider a career in acting.

But then I got this idea for a story. See I'd been writing stories my entire life. My closet is filled with plastic file boxes full of notebooks (no I won't recycle them and no I won't let anyone read them). But these were short stories, seedlings for novels. Novels are what I knew and what I thought, maybe one day, I could write. Screenplays? I really had no idea what they were.

But back to the idea. I got this idea. About an actress who wins an Oscar and all this stuff happens. And I didn't just know and write the story, I saw the story. I saw her hearing her name read during the nominations ceremony. I saw her standing outside of her burning apartment (it's a comedy, really). I SAW HER. I SAW THE STORY.

And that's when I realized it needed to be a movie. So I started writing a script - on my old laptop, without any fancy software, just me, looking at a book from the library about formatting, and my story. And that's when I got the bug.

Fast forward nine years later. (Yes, I know, NINE YEARS.) And as my mom said yesterday, "If I would have told you you'd be hanging out on the set of NCIS six months ago, you would have thought I was crazy." I would have and I still think it's crazy. But that's where I was on Tuesday. On the set of a top five television show. Coolest day ever.

I won't go into a lot of it because 1) it's just too fun to tell in person, so if you wanna know - call me or email me or ask me and 2) I've found out my blog has become quite popular on the NCIS chat/fan boards. When I walked into the production offices Tuesday one of the assistants said, "Are you Sarah, the friend with the blog? The wedding post was great! Thanks for sharing!" And it's not that I am not glad people are reading my blog - it's just that, well, this was a very cool experience and I don't wanna be that person. You understand.

But I'll give you a taste, because, well, coolest day ever and all.

First off, everyone was so unbelievably nice. I mean, remembering our names, taking the time to greet us and explain their jobs to us and make sure we could see and hear and were having fun. (And I don't just mean assistants, who were so nice, but the director who kept asking if we could see the video feeds and if we were enjoying ourselves!). So yeah, such a great, loving environment that it seems pretty amazing to work in everyday. And yeah, I know, maybe they were just on their "company's here so we'd better smile" behavior but I don't think so.

I got to talk with the writer a bit too which was pretty exciting for me. Turns out he went to camp in Kalamazoo so we had a whole big discussion of that. And then we talked about shadow drafts and film programs (he went to SC - I found out it's uncool to call it USC) and how he thought I did not look old enough to be in grad school. Awww:-)

I learned how to enter and exit a makeup trailer - you must say "stepping in (or up, not sure)" or "stepping out" so that the people putting on mascara or eyeliner or giving a haircut can pause because the trailers wiggle.

I learned that the second to the last shot of the day is called the abby shot (named after Abby Singer, a director who still eats regularly at a diner in Studio City) and that the last shot of the day is called the martini shot. What I loved was that the director came over and regaled these tales to me in the middle of shooting!

I learned that the halls of NCIS are short (and very orange) and they sometimes walk back and forth to make them seem longer when they are shooting scenes.

I learned that some of the stand-ins and extras have been with the show it's entire run which I thought was pretty cool. I'm going to watch in the next couple of weeks for the guy who read a magazine the entire time they rehearsed and shot (over 3 hrs). Seriously, what a job!

I learned what "sides" are. They are the day's script pages, shrunk in half, so that the actors and everyone can carry them easily and refer to them when needed. I also learned all about the day's call sheet.

I learned that the craft services table does really look like it does in the movies - tons of food, candy, etc. And the chicken salad was pretty amazing.

I learned how they make the same room appear to be day and night in the same five minutes.

I learned that just as there are "military brats" there are "set rats" - meaning kids who've grown up on a set (but not kid actors). We met a little girl who was too cute and seemed completely unfazed to be there, unlike me.

And finally, I learned that sometimes, the stars of the show are just as excited about their jobs and their shows and your visits as you are. And that made the day just so much cooler.

(Well that and being INSIDE Mark Harmon's trailer.)

Lenten Devotional

I agreed to write a Lenten devotional for our church booklet and today is my day. My assigned scripture was Isaiah 53:1-4.

...Surely he has born our grief and carried our sorrows...

In Hollywood it’s easy to get lost in the crowd, especially if you’re a little less of a looker than say, Angelina Jolie or Brad Pitt. In a town filled with would-be actors and models, it can be intimidating to walk down the street in your no-name jeans and Wal-mart purse.

Maybe that’s how Jesus felt when he walked the streets in his day because that’s certainly how he’s described in Isaiah: “He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him, nothing in his appearance that we should desire him” (Isaiah 53:2). “Like one from whom men hide their faces he was despised, and we esteemed him not” (Isaiah 53:3).

He wasn’t beloved, he wasn’t given an “atta boy” or props for a job-well done, no paparazzi were waiting to take his picture. Instead there was suffering. There was rejection. There was pity.

We’ve all experienced it, felt it, seen it. We know what it’s like to be looked down upon, for our outward appearance, our opinion, our lifestyle, or even our faith. Now imagine knowing that you are about to save the very people who have treated you this way. The people who’ve ridiculed you, called you names, disregarded you so completely.

Jesus knew what he had to do. What he was destined to do. He carried with him that burden. And yet, he also carried with him grace. Did he sink to the level of those who called him names? No. Did he try to change their opinions of him by dressing or acting differently? No.

Jesus did what he was supposed to do. What we’re all supposed to do. Keep our heads held high, live our lives, believe in our choices, and ourselves, and get on with it. Was he happy during this time? I don’t know. Am I happy as I struggle along my path? Not always. So I am guessing he wasn’t. But he knew what he had to do and did it.

I think waiting can be seen in two ways: a period of stagnation or a period of working toward what we want or need. Jesus used his period of waiting to work toward his goal, what he knew he had to do. And I’m going to use this Lenten season the same way, to work toward my goal – to be a little more like Jesus, no matter what the people around me think.

Before and after

The lease on our house had only one perk for us, a gardener. We didn't ask that this clause be added, it was in there and we were happy - we don't own any gardening tools and didn't want to spend the time doing the yard. And when we moved in the place looked very uncared for (see here to prove it). And then our lovely neighbor Bill offered to spruce up the place. Over the course of several weeks he worked, filling the yard waste containers time and time again. Almost a month later I found him in the backyard, still working away. And the results were beautiful.

And then we asked when our gardener would show. And we asked again. And again. And finally, seven months later (after a strongly-worded email mentioning legal counsel), I met our gardener on Saturday morning!

He's a great guy who likes to chat and who spent over four hours weed whipping our yard! But the results - so much better! (Check out all my pics on Facebook!)

So who wants to come over and enjoy our newly shorn patio?!?!?