I have been in Howell for two and a half weeks now and I'm enjoying it so. Besides seeing family and friends and playing a lot of golf I'm enjoying being unwired, untethered from my computer. Yes, I'm still working and yes I'm still checking Facebook, etc. but I'm not sitting at it for ten hours every single day. And I am loving it.
True, I am not writing very much of anything. But I think my brain and my back/neck needed the break. I'm reading books, spending time just sitting with people, leaving my phone on silent more often, even leaving it home. And it's bliss.
Just over a week to go -- maybe I can find a little more balance when I get back to L.A....
Monday, June 28, 2010
Monday, June 21, 2010
Goodbyes never get easier
Yesterday we said goodbye to our pastor, Reverend Chuck Jacobs, and his wife, Ann. They have been at my parents church here in Howell for 13 years. Part of me was surprised it had been that long but part of me cannot remember the other pastors at the church well at all so I guess it has been that long.
I've experienced my share of goodbyes over the years, to pastors, to jobs, to friends, to relatives, to towns, you name it, I've said goodbye to it. And it never really gets easier. Which I think is a good thing.
As we stood in a circle yesterday, over a 100 of us at just one of the three worship services of the day, and sang Michael W. Smith's "Friends", I cried. Yep. As I often do when saying goodbye. I can't make it through a graduation, a wedding, sometimes even a TV show that's even remotely sad without crying. But I think that's a good thing. I wear my feelings on my sleeves, and my face and my hands and everywhere else. I think too often in our culture it's seen as a weakness to show emotion, particularly tears.
So yesterday I shed some tears. But so did many people around me. And it was really nice to be a part of a community who was mourning, celebrating and sharing.
I've experienced my share of goodbyes over the years, to pastors, to jobs, to friends, to relatives, to towns, you name it, I've said goodbye to it. And it never really gets easier. Which I think is a good thing.
As we stood in a circle yesterday, over a 100 of us at just one of the three worship services of the day, and sang Michael W. Smith's "Friends", I cried. Yep. As I often do when saying goodbye. I can't make it through a graduation, a wedding, sometimes even a TV show that's even remotely sad without crying. But I think that's a good thing. I wear my feelings on my sleeves, and my face and my hands and everywhere else. I think too often in our culture it's seen as a weakness to show emotion, particularly tears.
So yesterday I shed some tears. But so did many people around me. And it was really nice to be a part of a community who was mourning, celebrating and sharing.
Saturday, June 05, 2010
Do you ever...
Do you ever have one of those nights where you're tired and you're kinda sore and you get into bed and all you want to do is go to sleep? And you can't.
Yeah. That's me right now. I came home tonight, watched some TV, read a little and shut off the light. I laid there and thought about the new book I'm reading. Then I started thinking about writing. And my trip back to Michigan next week. And what will happen if Angela has to have surgery. And whether or not I'll get up the gumption to work out again tomorrow. And what I'll buy with the Kohl's cash I have. And whether or not the macaroni salad will still be good on Sunday.
Then I thought about how I shouldn't have eaten both of the peanut butter cookies at lunch. And about how I was kinda mean to Angela when I met her afterschool because I was hot and sweaty from walking over in the sun. Then I thought about the movie I'd seen tonight and if I'll ever have an idea half as good.
Then I thought about the script I finished yesterday. The 69 pages bound and sitting on my desk with my title and my name on the cover. Then I realized I never applied for the church scholarship this year because I hadn't been to church in a few weeks. Then I felt guilty and asked God to please forgive me. And tell me whether or not I should go back to school this fall. And then I thought about if I'd have enough money to go back to school. I tried really hard to remember if my credit cards have any open balances. And then that brought me back to the Kohl's cash and how I really need to stop at Target for dish soap. And maybe some laundry detergent.
And I suppose, if you're still reading, maybe it's because you have had one of those nights. Because it's a quarter after twelve and I'm sitting here in the dark, thankful I took typing in community college so I can type in the dark. Wishing I could go to sleep because tomorrow is a busy day. Lots to do, lots I want to do, including getting up early to make the 12 mile trek to Kohl's so it won't take 2 hours in traffic. Ah, apparently shopping is on the brain.
But yeah, so it's just one of those nights. So I'll go crawl back in bed and read some more and pray sleep comes easily. Sweet dreams to the rest of you...
Yeah. That's me right now. I came home tonight, watched some TV, read a little and shut off the light. I laid there and thought about the new book I'm reading. Then I started thinking about writing. And my trip back to Michigan next week. And what will happen if Angela has to have surgery. And whether or not I'll get up the gumption to work out again tomorrow. And what I'll buy with the Kohl's cash I have. And whether or not the macaroni salad will still be good on Sunday.
Then I thought about how I shouldn't have eaten both of the peanut butter cookies at lunch. And about how I was kinda mean to Angela when I met her afterschool because I was hot and sweaty from walking over in the sun. Then I thought about the movie I'd seen tonight and if I'll ever have an idea half as good.
Then I thought about the script I finished yesterday. The 69 pages bound and sitting on my desk with my title and my name on the cover. Then I realized I never applied for the church scholarship this year because I hadn't been to church in a few weeks. Then I felt guilty and asked God to please forgive me. And tell me whether or not I should go back to school this fall. And then I thought about if I'd have enough money to go back to school. I tried really hard to remember if my credit cards have any open balances. And then that brought me back to the Kohl's cash and how I really need to stop at Target for dish soap. And maybe some laundry detergent.
And I suppose, if you're still reading, maybe it's because you have had one of those nights. Because it's a quarter after twelve and I'm sitting here in the dark, thankful I took typing in community college so I can type in the dark. Wishing I could go to sleep because tomorrow is a busy day. Lots to do, lots I want to do, including getting up early to make the 12 mile trek to Kohl's so it won't take 2 hours in traffic. Ah, apparently shopping is on the brain.
But yeah, so it's just one of those nights. So I'll go crawl back in bed and read some more and pray sleep comes easily. Sweet dreams to the rest of you...
Thursday, June 03, 2010
Polar opposite feelings
Last night I sat at my computer after returning home from my television pilot writing class at UCLA thinking, it is possible to experience hope and despair in the same breath. I'm proof of that.
I spent most of yesterday writing. Not just thinking about writing, not just fiddling with an outline or fleshing out ideas but actually writing pages. Writing dialogue. Coming up with character names and places and actions. I wrote over 25 pages yesterday. Yeah it's all first draft but it felt awesome. I felt like a writer and that's the best feeling in the world.
And then I went to class. With only one week left after last night we'd come down to the obligatory 'How to get an agent' lecture. And everyone has their two cents and it's nothing I haven't heard before. It basically boils down to two things: it's who you know and it's where you've worked.
This is great if your brother's an agent at CAA or your father's the head of his own production company. This is great if you came out of a writing program that placed you in an internship that naturally progressed to a production assistant position. This is soul-crushing if you're me.
I don't know many people in the business. And my one and only internship (out of the hundred or so I've applied for) is for a company that experienced a shift in staff after I left. So I sat here last night, listening to the tail end of a screenwriting podcast (my equivalent to watching bad TV before bed) and I heard something that stopped me in my tracks.
"I've literally put myself in the position where I cannot fail."
The screenwriter was talking about how he quit his job to move to Los Angeles (yep, me too). He went on to say how he couldn't get a job and so he just kept writing (I know the feeling). So I got to thinking. Yeah, that's me.
I'm not a twenty-one year old college graduate who's living on my parent's dime (not that my parents aren't awesome and don't help out whenever I ask, and even when I don't) and 'trying out' L.A. for a while. I'm a grown adult who's made a conscious choice to move here, to write, to support myself, and to make a go of it. There is no other option. There's no law degree to fall back on. There's no trust fund that will mature. There. Is. No. Other. Option.
So I crawled into bed and opened the Oprah magazine I've been reading and came upon a story about putting adventure into your life. And I got to thinking about that. A friend from Michigan had just asked me on the phone that afternoon if I truly liked living here. And I answered, I truly do. Because for me, this is my home. No, not home, that will always be Howell. But it's my home for now. And if I don't think of it that way then I will see failure as an option. I can't go home because I'm already there.
So I got out of bed this morning and listened to the end of said podcast, and another for good measure (I listen while I 'teach' so it's not like I'm just laying around in the sun, I wish it were sunny right now). And the second one got me thinking about my script. It got me thinking about the pages I've written and will write today. About how accomplished I will feel after I've finished this draft. What it's like to hold a bound copy of my writing in my hands. It's pretty awesome. And that, my friends, is not failure. It's the polar opposite.
I spent most of yesterday writing. Not just thinking about writing, not just fiddling with an outline or fleshing out ideas but actually writing pages. Writing dialogue. Coming up with character names and places and actions. I wrote over 25 pages yesterday. Yeah it's all first draft but it felt awesome. I felt like a writer and that's the best feeling in the world.
And then I went to class. With only one week left after last night we'd come down to the obligatory 'How to get an agent' lecture. And everyone has their two cents and it's nothing I haven't heard before. It basically boils down to two things: it's who you know and it's where you've worked.
This is great if your brother's an agent at CAA or your father's the head of his own production company. This is great if you came out of a writing program that placed you in an internship that naturally progressed to a production assistant position. This is soul-crushing if you're me.
I don't know many people in the business. And my one and only internship (out of the hundred or so I've applied for) is for a company that experienced a shift in staff after I left. So I sat here last night, listening to the tail end of a screenwriting podcast (my equivalent to watching bad TV before bed) and I heard something that stopped me in my tracks.
"I've literally put myself in the position where I cannot fail."
The screenwriter was talking about how he quit his job to move to Los Angeles (yep, me too). He went on to say how he couldn't get a job and so he just kept writing (I know the feeling). So I got to thinking. Yeah, that's me.
I'm not a twenty-one year old college graduate who's living on my parent's dime (not that my parents aren't awesome and don't help out whenever I ask, and even when I don't) and 'trying out' L.A. for a while. I'm a grown adult who's made a conscious choice to move here, to write, to support myself, and to make a go of it. There is no other option. There's no law degree to fall back on. There's no trust fund that will mature. There. Is. No. Other. Option.
So I crawled into bed and opened the Oprah magazine I've been reading and came upon a story about putting adventure into your life. And I got to thinking about that. A friend from Michigan had just asked me on the phone that afternoon if I truly liked living here. And I answered, I truly do. Because for me, this is my home. No, not home, that will always be Howell. But it's my home for now. And if I don't think of it that way then I will see failure as an option. I can't go home because I'm already there.
So I got out of bed this morning and listened to the end of said podcast, and another for good measure (I listen while I 'teach' so it's not like I'm just laying around in the sun, I wish it were sunny right now). And the second one got me thinking about my script. It got me thinking about the pages I've written and will write today. About how accomplished I will feel after I've finished this draft. What it's like to hold a bound copy of my writing in my hands. It's pretty awesome. And that, my friends, is not failure. It's the polar opposite.
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