My Navy SEALs

As I write this I'm listening to the sounds of my printer working away. Paper sliding out, ink being applied, paper sliding back in (I'm printing front to back). Tonight this script I'm printing will receive a final read through. A verbal once over read aloud by Angela and myself. And then tomorrow it'll get submitted to a writing program. And then to a contest. And then posted on the Blacklist. And maybe some day...

And fingers crossed, for a few days, maybe I won't think about SEAL Team 12 nonstop.

For the past nine months it's what I've been thinking of constantly. Navy SEALs. Terrorists. Fundamentalists. Bad guys. Good guys. Guns. Black Hawk helicopters. Parachute packs. Nuclear warheads. Nuclear bunkers. Missile silos. Special operations. The CIA. Who did it? Who might have done it? What did she do? How did she do it?

My pilot is about an all-female Navy SEAL team. Not the first such team, just a team of physically fit problem solvers who happen to be women. (I stole part of that line from a Navy admiral who believes women should be allowed in to be in special ops.) I love the world I created. I'm obsessed with the characters I have crafted. I sleep and dream about these stories.

And yet? Tomorrow I'll put these characters and these pages to bed. I'll put them away, in a neatly organized folder with a dozen drafts and files of notes, and I'll have to decide on a new project come Monday morning. A new story to obsess over. A new world to create.

But I won't forget about SEAL Team 12.

And I won't forget about the idea that started the obsession. The idea that women can be SEALs too. The idea that women can do anything. The idea that if girls see it on TV and in the movies, they'll be more likely to believe they can do it too.

Words have power. Pictures have power. Put the two together? So much power coming through those little screens. So much influence. So much hope. So much potential.

It they see it they can be it.

So why not SEALs? Hollywood, I've got a story for you...

Reading to Kids with JHRTS!

The JHRTS group at Reading to Kids

Saturday morning I headed off in the drizzle to Los Angeles Elementary School, only a ten minute drive from my house. It's towards downtown, and just a little south of me. It looks very much like the elementary school just a block away from us here on Abbey Place. When I arrived, there were no kids. Just a crowd of adults, clutching coffee, grabbing bagels, and sitting down to study picture books.

Yes, picture books.

See, we were all there, over 100 of us, for the Reading to Kids program that happens every second Saturday of the month, year round, at seven public elementary schools in the downtown Los Angeles area. It's a program aimed not just at getting kids to learn to read but to love to read. We were there to engage them and entertain them and make them want to read a book all on their own just for the fun of it. And even though the kids wouldn't arrive for over an hour, we had to prepare. We'd be on our own for an hour and twenty minutes, with our group, a book, and some craft supplies. And the rest was up to us.

My partner Drew had volunteered before. Just once but that made him a veteran, even earned him a special destination on his badge. He knew the drill. And then there was me, and a bunch from the Junior Hollywood Radio and Television Society (JHRTS), and we were eager. So eager.

We were assigned our groups. Drew and I got three little boys, all 4 years old and in preschool. All varying degrees of learning abilities and interests. And off we went. We splashed in the puddles as we made our way to our classroom. We gathered around the table and wrote our names on our name tags. It was ok if your name didn't fit, we squished in the letters below the first line. The we set off on a picture walk - we looked at the book and we wondered what the story might be about. Our book was The Lonely Octopus and we counted fish and talked about eels and ran our fingers over shark teeth in the pictures and we got up to do crab walks.

My kindergarten materials

That was a big moment for me in the day. We came upon some crabs in the book and I spontaneously asked the boys if they knew how to walk like a crab. We all knew how to pinch like one but no one else knew how to move like one so we hopped up and bent our knees and scooted around the room looking completely silly.

And it was perfect.

There are those moments when you completely lose yourself to what is going on in front of you. All around you. Saturday morning was one of those moments. I'd signed up for the volunteer activity for two reasons. One, because I like kids, I like reading to kids and I thought it would be a fun way to spend a few hours. But the second reason I'd signed up to volunteer was to network. I joined JHRTS in January at the urging of a friend who's a member. He plied me with stories of industry mentors and engaging panels and screenwriting contests. I couldn't resist. I paid my money and joined up. So far I've been to a couple of events, and met a couple of people but am still finding my way in the large organization. And I figured Saturday would prove to be a good opportunity to mingle with some like-minded industry folks. And I wasn't wrong.

I met just about everyone in our group and talked about working in the business. We shared stories and exchanged info and did the usual small talk. But it was a chance to really engage with a few people. I liked it. So much more than I liked the Happy Hour I attended last month. The atmosphere was perfect for chatting and then moving on. But more than at a normal networking event, I felt at ease at the school. I was on familiar territory. And the people I engaged with and I all had more common ground to discuss than just the usual what do you do. And it was a chance to be silly. And what can be better than that?

Under the sea - clownfish & shapes!

After crab walking we moved through the book. Then Drew read the book while I listened to tiny whispers and pulled legs off the table and got hugs. And when the lonely octopus twirled, we got up and twirled. And when she shook her arms, we got up and shook our arms. And it was perfect.

For that hour and ten minutes I didn't think about my phone. I didn't worry about how to explain that I'm a writer but you've never seen anything I've written. I didn't worry about looking the part or saying something I'd later think was dumb. I got to read about octopi and teach a four year old how to use scissors and make sure the glue sticks worked. We didn't worry about the kids all making the perfect craft or writing their Os just so as we might in school. We let each boy pick a project and let them go. One boy had me draw a clownfish for him to color and cut out. Then he added shapes and seaweed. His masterpiece was perfect. Another drew a realistic shark and cut it out and had Drew attach it to a tube of paper to make a puppet. And the last little boy loved the way the coffee filter we found in our craft box felt and we cut out a fish and some waves to glue on to it. All so different, all so much their own visions.

And when we handed each student a book to take home and lined up to head back to the cafeteria for dismissal, I couldn't help but smile widely. Reading can be so much fun. It can spark a creative force that was never present before that book was opened and the pages were read. It can inspire art and forge friendships. It can cause dancing and hugs and learning. How great is that. Seriously. How great?!?!

Without loss of enthusiasm

This week my friend Tami excitedly read to me from an interview by Aaron Sorkin. In the article he quotes Molly Bloom, the subject of his next film, who is quoting Winston Churchill. He says, according to Churchill,

Success consists of going from failure to failure without loss of enthusiasm.

I immediately wrote this down in blue Sharpie on an index card and pinned it on the bulletin board next to my desk. And I have stared at these words every day this week.

What's finally sunk in is the possibility that I am a success. At least according to this yardstick. Going from failure to failure. I feel like that's me lately.

In the past three months I've applied for four different writing fellowships and contests. I've gotten notice back on three. I haven't been accepted or moved to a higher round in any of them. In the past three months I've applied for countless jobs (I started keeping track of jobs I applied to in grad school. When I hit the triple digits I quit. I have no reason to be reminded of those who aren't interested in knowing me so now usually even rejection letters get tossed immediately). I haven't received notice back from most but when I have, it's an unqualified, thanks but we're not interested in you. And then sometimes the job posting goes back up and my heart sinks a little lower in my chest.

And yet? Each morning I get up. I dust off my desk. I open my laptop. I think about standing but I ultimately sit, and I get going. I read up on the day's news and those AP oddities articles looking for inspiration and for a way to make sense of the world. I check out what's happening in the writing world. In Hollywood. In Detroit. In my life. In others' lives. And then I settle in. I check the job posting boards. I check in with my friend Tami or other writer friends. I work on scripts. I scribble down ideas for movies or new pilots. I take apart scripts I've written and throw away funny or poignant lines until all I have left are scraps.

I go from failure to failure because that's all I have right now.

Yesterday I posted two of my half-hour comedies on a paid hosting site called The Black List. I've done it before, with miserable results. But I feel more confident this time. And I have more belief in myself that I can take the criticism handed out there. I also know this is where some of the cool kids in Hollywood hang out. So I'll take a spin around the block and see if anyone wants to chat. Because at this point, what's one more failure.

But I think the part of Churchill's quote that struck me most was the last bit.

...without loss of enthusiasm.

I'm not sad. Usually. I'm not angry. Usually. I don't dread getting to my desk. I don't dread putting fingers to the keyboard or marker to the notecard or pen to the paper. I relish it. I don't take it for granted even one little bit. Right now, despite everything else that's going on in the world and in my life, I get to write. EVERY SINGLE DAY. I get to create. I get to do what I want. And I know that may not last forever. I know that may not last long at all. I know at some point I may choose a different path or one will be presented before me and life will change. But for now?

I get to enthusiastically sit down at my desk and decide which failure will be next. Because at this point, that's all they are. Until they aren't. And frankly, I'm confident there will be a day when there is something that's the complete opposite of a failure. And that will be exciting and amazing and as it should be.

But I won't forget all those days that came before it. All the todays. The days when I get to make things up that please me, that make me laugh, that fascinate me. Because it's the failures that pile up, the failures that lead us, the failures that inspire us. It's going from failure to failure with such great expectations that all they do is prepare me for greatness.

And I love that.

#yearofyes
#writelikeyourerunningoutoftime