30 Day Photography Challenge - Day 12

Sunset

Taken by Angela and me, between 5:10pm and 5:50pm 

from the sidewalk in front of our house in Los Angeles

30 Day Photography Challenge - Day 11

Something blue

 

30 Day Photography Challenge - Day 10

Childhood Memory

Last summer when cleaning out boxes at my parents I found these treasures and just couldn't part with them. I think it's important to remember our prior selves. Where we came from. I came from plastic charm bracelets that had charms like feet and wrenches and toothbrushes. And yes, I wore this pink banana clip in my hair so much. Might have to break it out again some day. Until then I keep these treasures in my dresser in a Crown Royal bag. Ah, childhood.

30 Day Photography Challenge - Day 9

Someone you love

#sister

30 Day Photography Challenge - Day 8

Routine

Laundry day.

30 Day Photography Challenge - Day 7

Changes to come

Yesterday I restarted (I'd started back in November but the sitcom pilot sidetracked me) the rewrite I've been meaning to do on my arson investigator pilot. This morning I spread out the notes I have to incorporate, go through, weed out, put in, etc. These notes come from three different readers and me. I'm completely overwhelmed. So, I'll do as the awesome Anne Lamott suggests and just take it "bird by bird".

30 Day Photography Challenge - Day 6

Obsession

 It's February and I've already been working on next year's Christmas ornaments for a month...

Aunt Gloria

My mom posted this picture on Facebook this morning. And though I wasn't there when it was taken last year, I've seen a similar scenario play out countless times in my life. My dad, next to his sister. Laughing.

I love it.

My dad has four brothers and one sister. His parents divorced when he was a child and remarried and the result was a large family. Different cities, different states, different generations. And yet? My dad has stayed very close to his half-siblings. That's actually an odd phrase to me, half-sibling. It's not one we ever used in my family. We're family. Not half or step or anything else. Family.

This is a picture of my dad and Gloria at what I imagine is a basketball game that her daughter Blessing was playing in. Blessing is a senior in high school right now. She has an older son, Jeremy, as well. All of this is amazing to me because Gloria is amazing.

Gloria has a disease that has ravaged her body for my entire life. I cannot really remember a time when she wasn't in a wheel chair. I look at pictures of her holding me or running next to me and I have a hard time reconciling that with the woman above. Because for my whole life Gloria has been fighting MS.

If you want to argue things that aren't fair in life, get in line. Gloria is smart. Like college-crazy smart. She takes after her Uncle Ed who was one of the smartest men I've ever known, my Grandma Millie's brother who taught in Chicago. Gloria was athletic. She's funny and sweet and sentimental and I see a lot of myself in her. I love that. She's also one of the most devout Christians I know. She goes to church regularly. She makes sure I get my subscription to Guideposts magazine every year.

And she does all of this without the use of her arms or her legs. She can't feed or dress herself. She eats mostly via a tube. She talks into a microphone affixed to her wheelchair but even that doesn't help us understand her very well. You have to get up close and focus on her mouth and listen intently to figure out words and phrases. And yet? On good days, she is able to speak more normally. And when she does, she asks questions, she knows exactly what's happening with everyone in the family and the world. As I said, she's so smart. And she's trapped.

It makes me cry. It really does. And yet I have to stop and remind myself that every single day she wakes up and she greets the world and she lives in it. She doesn't just exist. She goes to her daughter's basketball games. She came to my grandparents' funerals in Howell this summer. She seems to thoroughly enjoy life. And to me, that is awesome. That's what faith and love and belief do to a person.

Happy Birthday, Aunt Gloria. I love you. You are an example of a life well lived to me and to everyone who knows you.

30 Day Photography Challenge - Day 5

After Dark

From the ashes...

A few weeks ago I wrote about not knowing what was next. Since then I've had some great conversations with friends and peers and tried to be even more intentional about using my time. I'm good about time management, for the most part, you have to be when you work from home. I get that it's not for everyone. I have to make myself sit down at my desk every morning and not flop on the couch. So over the past two weeks I've set deadlines with two writer friends, last Friday I had a pilot rewrite due to Tami and this week I have another pilot rewrite due to her. On Valentine's Day I have a deadline with Krista. That one? It's a bit bigger. I've decided to rewrite a feature I wrote back in film school. And not just rewrite it but retool it completely. Instead of male main characters? Female main characters. So just change the whole thing basically. And I'm beyond excited. I close my eyes at night and my mind drifts to the characters. I try to read a novel in the waiting room and my mind goes to the characters. That's a very good sign I tell ya.

Also, I've started a photography challenge which has gotten my excited about art and capturing life. And I've started praying with a friend/accountability partner. We started this just this morning officially though we've been doing it unofficially for about 14 years. One of the things I asked her to pray for was my writing and my employment situation.

And just two hours ago I got offered another contract with the University of Phoenix. It's not full-time. It's not forever (the semester starts next Monday and runs through mid-April) but it's something. It's for now. It takes a huge weight off my shoulders, shaves it down a little, and puts it back on. The weight's not gone but it feels just the slightest bit better.

So, I'm back to teacher-mode. I'm in writer-mode. And also? Thanks God, for the pretty obvious reminder that You are awesome and prayer works.

30 Day Photography Challenge - Day 4

Something Green

I was really focused on the leaves in this photo. I've been reading all of the books that came with my Canon Rebel and I wanted to try getting a macro photo - where you focus on one thing while the other thing in the background or foreground is blurry. Those photos always look so cool to me. This isn't a true one, I'll have to work on that, but I did manage to refocus the lens manually onto the leaves. The green leaves. Also, I love that on February 3rd there's a rose blooming in my yard.

30 Day Photography Challenge - Day 3

Clouds

Abbey Place - photo credit Sarah (with DSLR camera)

Abbey Place - photo credit Angela (with DSLR camera)

Amazing art

Yesterday I walked over to Angela's school at her request. Sometimes I pop into the school a lot. I've been known to clean half the classrooms there (this is an exaggeration but it's not much of one, every time she moves into a new classroom we clean, deep clean, and she moves a lot - well she did, until this year thank goodness). Sometimes I'm absent for long periods of time. I haven't been over much this school year as she has no prep. She teaches straight through from beginning to end with a 25 minute lunch break. So there's no time to walk with me to get a coffee or sit on the bench out front after I get done with Homeless Lunch. Alas, I've not spent as much time with these students as I have in the past.

And yet? 

They didn't forget me. I went on a field trip with them back at the beginning of the school year - to see the Space Shuttle. And on Friday I was greeted by name by almost every child. They were giddy to see me, to talk to me, to ask me questions. Mind you, I was only there an hour. An hour during which I supervised an art project to give Ms. Knapp a second pair of hands. An hour during which I noted several things. One, these are kids. For all their foul language and anger and laziness and refusal to share what they learn, they're kids. Little kids. Eleven, twelve years old. They ask tenderly for an extra sheet of paper. They get frustrated when their crayon breaks. They ask questions that seem so simple and sweet. What color is your house, Ms. Knapp? Why do you sound like the other Ms. Knapp? 

And two? Kids are amazing. Just look at the artwork above. Their learning how to "graffiti" their names or words. They're coloring bricks (rubbings made on actual bricks against the school). They're putting time and effort into their projects. They're so proud to show off what they've done, even when they're shy about it. And I love that. 

Today Angela and I flipped through some old scrapbooks. I came across my photos from my old classroom in Yuma and my heart sung, sadly at times. I miss those kids, those four walls, that time we spent together. And I'm so grateful when I get to spend an hour or two with Ang's kids nowadays. Kids are amazing. All of them.

30 Day Photography Challenge - Day 2

What You Wore

This is what I wore today to get a pedicure (this pic is post pedicure). It's Los Angeles, it's February first, and I'm comfortable in jean capris and flip-flops though I do have a long-sleeved red shirt on. The high today is 66 degrees, the sky is blue and the sun is shining though it's very windy.

30 Day Photography Challenge - Day 1

I found this on Pintrest a while back and I pinned it thinking, someday this will be fun to do. Well, someday always comes and goes. So, today's someday. Today is the day I start this challenge. And I'm excited. To work on my photography, to use my new camera, to play around a bit. So here goes...

Day 1 - Self Portrait

Some days I might caption the photo or write a little something about it, other days I might just post the photo. We'll see how it goes. But today, I wanted to write a little something. I have read several articles lately about self esteem and selfies (photos we take of ourselves, usually on our phones). Some think the practice is ridiculous. Some think the practice is empowering. I don't know exactly what I think about the practice except I do know that I take selfies. And I usually enjoy doing so. But I usually only post them if I'm looking my best, if I crop them and Instagram them into pretty hues and soft lighting. And in one of the articles I read the author talked about how we should take pictures when we're not at our best, when we're sad or mad or anything other than happy and doing something fun/exciting. And I like that idea. That most moments I capture are positive and I am looking my best. But that's not representative of my life every day, every moment. Most of the time I don't want to take a selfie. Or if I did, I'd hate the result. So today I took a photo of myself at work. Without makeup. Hair in braids. Plain ole black tee. No jewelry. Old stained Tigger mug of lukewarm, watered down tea. Messy desk. And I took it on my new camera so I couldn't Instagram it to make it look cuter. This is me. This is how I look every day. This is my self portrait.

P.S. - This was my first time using the self-time function on my camera and I took 10 photos in 10 seconds. The other 9 were mostly me with my eyes closed so I did choose the one with my eyes open, full disclosure. But I love that feature. 

The backpacks are here!

We opened the giant box the mail lady dropped on the front step and immediately put them on. We were like little kids getting our backpacks for the first day of school (although, we didn't get new backpacks growing up, that seems to be a new phenomenon for kids). We zipped and unzipped, discovered the little hidden pockets and the big not so hidden pockets. We adjusted straps and started thinking about what would go where. A water bottle, a map, the camera case, a change of shoes, so much!

These are the backpacks Angela and I got for our trip to Paris this summer. We wanted something easy to maneuver with since we'll be taking planes, trains, buses, etc. all around Paris and London. We decided early on to forgo large suitcases and backpacks seemed like a logical alternative. So we'll each take two pieces of luggage. The above packs and our carry on sized rolling suitcases.

We've gotten better at packing light over the years. Traveling cross country will do that. I still remember heading back to Kalamazoo one winter after Christmas break and my car being packed to the ceiling of stuff. Now it's hard to imagine that a few suitcases is all I get to go back and forth with. But we're lucky, most of our traveling is to our parents' so we don't take much in the way of toiletries (though one should pack contacts, an item I forgot this winter!) or extras. However, Paris will be different.

In way of preparations we're already deep in the thick of it. We've booked our hotel rooms in Paris (still figuring out London), we've booked our airfare (through Montreal, which we won't see much of since our layover is 50 minutes long which the nice Air Canada woman explained to me yesterday would, in fact, be a sufficient amount of time to get from gate to gate and through customs though I'm still a wee bit skeptical), and we've started collecting supplies.

So far we've purchased the backpacks, four extra memory cards for my camera (we can now take approximately seven billion snapshots), a holder for said cards, and we're making lists galore. I've designated one new shirt for the trip and we've began another list of what we still need to get in terms of clothes and shoes (a pair of sandals is arriving in the mail today for me - here's hoping no blisters!).

I've also started listening to French Coffeebreak podcasts to brush up on my French. Six years of studying the language sounds great until I realize I last cracked a French textbook fifteen years ago. We're still pouring over the travel guides and need to firm up itineraries in order to make some ticket purchases before we go. But most of all?

I'm excited! Beyond excited. I've only traveled to Canada and Mexico before and while those have been fun adventures, it's been nothing like this. (Heck, I've only spent one night in Mexico and it was on a friend's couch!) Our amazing cousin Doris who is a world traveler (literally - she travels constantly for work and fun) has even gotten caught up in the excitement. She emailed this week to see what kind of adapters we were getting for our electronics. I love that! I love that my dad sends me apps to help with museum tours and everything else Paris related. I love the anticipation of having something so wonderful to look forward to.

There's still a lot to do, a lot to collect, a lot to check off the lists. But most of all, there's a lot to look forward to.

Feedback is scary but...

It's been a rough week work-wise. I've been feeling very down in the dumps about my situation. Throughout December I was on such a high regarding my writing and the staged reading and then had a terrific holiday in Michigan and then came back to an empty inbox, no phone calls and stacks of scripts on my desk with no where to go. Depressing to say the least.

To top it all off? I'd received feedback in late December from a source I was excited about. I sent them my favorite script, the baseball one, and was itching with excitement. And the feedback was negative. I was crushed. I put it away and let the negativity fester in my mind until I decided maybe I wasn't supposed to be a writer after all. Maybe I'd squandered my time these past five years when I could have been getting a teaching certificate or some other marketable skill. I was basically screwed. Or so I thought.

Then this week I spoke with a friend. She had received similar feedback on two of her scripts from a similar source. We commiserated and complained and lifted each other up. But it felt a little artificial because deep down we both wondered if this was the plan. So we agreed to read each other's work, read the feedback and discuss. Honestly. Openly. Without regards of the other person's feelings.

I set about reading her script this week. I talked to her and gave her my notes and we agreed some changes could be made. But I still couldn't bring myself to read my notes again. I printed them on Thursday and left them on the printer all day and all night. Friday morning the black words on that stark white paper stared up at me. I had to face the music. So yesterday I took the two pages and I read them through. I distilled the feedback down into bullet points on two note cards. I used a purple pen and thought the notes didn't look as scary in my own handwriting. And a lot of the notes were the same. Over and over again. I wrote down the very few strengths the feedback listed and put stars by those. My script had some merit. It had potential the feedback reminded me. And then I set the cards aside.

This morning my friend called me and we talked about my script for over an hour. I took four pages of legal pad notes. I scribbled and circled and wrote faster than my brain could process. And you know what? I got excited about my script again and the opportunity for a rewrite. I realized, with my friend's not so gentle reminder, that my script is well done, that my characters are interesting and that I'm actually a very good writer. She told me much of the feedback was bullshit and I wrote that in large letters on my note cards as I crossed things out.

But more than anything? She gave me these awesome notes on things I should work on. This feedback, which I was terrified of, was actually a blessing in disguise. It got me to look at my script objectively, for the first time in months, and to consider what's best for the story. It got me to remember how much I love writing and frankly, rewriting is writing.

So this week I'll take the notes I made, all of them, and get to work. I'll take the ideas sprung from those stark white pages, and the conversation my friend and I had, and I'll make this script I love so much better. And by Friday? I'll have a draft that I'm even happier with and more proud to send out with my name boldly centered on the front page.

And I'll have to remind myself over and over, a million times, that feedback is scary but it's also vital. Oh so vital.

The Music of My Life

There has been an item on my To-Do List for over two years now: put CDs onto computer and get rid of CDs. It was something I'd been putting off and I don't know why. I'd gotten rid of the VHS tapes without much ceremony. I'd been digitalizing photos and lots of paper, trying to go all digital. I'm not a hoarder but I do like to keep mementos and lets face it, my CDs are mementos. 

When Angela and I got the two giant black CD books out of the closet this weekend I wasn't sure what to expect. Before we moved we'd gotten rid of all the CD cases and put the covers and CDs in these cases. But I hadn't looked at the cases for some time. If I wanted a CD or a particular song, maybe. But for the most part? The music languished up there behind the boxes of Halloween and Christmas candles. 

So Saturday morning we flipped through the pages and immediately began reminiscing. The worship CD from the Christmas Youth Conference we attended when I was still in high school. My first ever CD: Whitney by Whitney Houston. My copy of the Rent soundtrack, the soundtrack I memorized long before I ever saw the show on a stage. The Jennifer Knapp Kansas CD that I listened to over and over when I first moved to Olivet. I remember lying on my egg carton bed, on my sleeping bag on the floor of the room I shared with Kelly and Tracy in Brewer House, learning every single word to that CD until I sang it in my sleep. The Alanis Morisette CD that I would end up singing as I drove the tractor at work that summer while I grated the camping ground roads (this was long before iPods and it's a good thing I was on that tractor all by my lonesome because I'd scream her songs so loud).

The Ellis Paul CD pictured above was from a concert I attended in Olivet. I still know all the words to all of his songs. When I put it in my car CD player this week I was amazed how I was immediately transported back to 2000 and that big old church where I closed my eyes and listened to Paul on his guitar. I'd forgotten about that night until I saw the signature above.

I listen to music almost daily. I can't usually drive without it. Rarely do I write or work without it. If I need quiet I turn to Yo Yo Ma or something similar. If I'm writing about Detroit it might be Eminem. If I'm feeling upset I might turn up Aerosmith or something from high school. If I'm in need of head space I'll put on John Mayer or Vonda Shepard and let the music I know so well wash over me without even noticing.

And this project had an added bonus I hadn't even thought about. So many of my CDs hadn't ever been transferred to my computer before now so I hadn't spent time listening to some of my favorites. I have every Garth Brooks CD and I'd forgotten how great he is. I'd forgotten that so many of my early CDs were birthday and Christmas gifts and how exciting it was to wait for a new album. I saw handwritten notes in several and I love that I cared so much about music at an early age. And that people around me nurtured that. It didn't matter if it was country, rock, rap, indie, my family bought me the music I wanted. And as a result, I love everything so much. I see the beauty in a metal song or a ballad. I see the sweetness in a Childish Gambino rap as much as I do a Celine Dion song.

Over 300 CDs. Almost two weeks worth of music. I've spent the week rediscovering old favorites and singing along, loudly. Music is everywhere. And now? All of it's on my phone in my pocket wherever I go. Amazing.

No idea what's next

A few minutes ago I submitted final grades for my latest (and potentially) last class with the University of Phoenix. I will check in through Friday but after that, I don't know when or if I'll teach for them again. As a teacher under contract for each class each semester for the past five years, this is not news to me. But this time, it feels a little different. I was informed (via email memo) last year that the university was going through some changes and they would need less adjunct professors. Then I applied for a full-time job with them and wasn't interviewed. And so, this could really be the end of an era for me. I have no idea.

It may be my chance to rise like a Phoenix and fly off on my own. Only time (and a contract or not) will tell.

So for now, I have no idea what's next. I'm unemployed. Again. I got my final editing paycheck for a freelance gig last week. The woman I'd been working with has gone on a month-long sojourn to other parts of the world. The pilot that got the awesome staged reading treatment in December? It still sits, unasked for, in my portfolio file. There haven't been any calls or emails. I don't know if there will be.

I do know that tonight I'll go to a movie screening of a little indie I'd really wanted to see. A friend who didn't give up when I turned him down twice for other movies is taking me as his plus one. Tomorrow I'll sit back down at my desk and I'll turn to the pile on my left. The pile of rewrites and notes and outlines and things to do. There's always something floating in my brain and I'll get to it. I'm excited to finish the novel I started this weekend and spend time with friends this weekend. Monday I'll drive a church friend to the doctor and Tuesday I'll have dinner with an old film school prof.

But what's next in the big scheme of things?

I have no idea.

Pilot season is here in L.A. and that means staffing season isn't far behind. I'll send out letters and emails and beg people to give me a chance (not literally beg but you know, a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do). I'll keep writing. I'll network all over the place. I'll continue to add to my packing list for Paris (only 138 days until we leave!!!). I'll just keep keeping on because well, I never know what's next!

Back in L.A. again!

Some people spend winter vacations in Florida or Hawaii. Me? I spend them in Michigan. Where we had ice storms, snow storms, 30-hour power outages, terrible flu outbreaks and temperatures that flirted with -40 degrees. I dug out the old Sorel neon boots and laced them up. I froze my legs off getting made into a snow lady by the neighborhood kids. I went to the ole Urgent Care and got my handy-dandy Zpac mere hours before we hosted a party for 80 people at our house. I kept warm sitting by my parents' new electronic fireplace, drinking wine and eating a pound or two of chocolate and nuts. I read several books that were not for research.

It was the perfect holiday.

I knew Christmas would be different this year. In quick succession this summer and fall my family was left without any grandparents. It's a part of life we all accept and try to understand. And then Christmas Eve came and I sat by the tree and I sobbed. I sobbed because I missed my Grandma. I missed her laugh and that evil twinkle in her eye and the way she always had cake at her house. No matter what. I missed my Grandpa. I missed his Hawaiian Punch and Seven-Up with cheap vanilla ice cream treat. I missed his soft, "Alright, Babe" when he would hug me hello and goodbye. I missed my Grandma and her loud cackle as we played cards and the way she always listened intently to what was happening in my life. I missed my grandparents on Christmas. I missed the ones who'd only been gone a short while and the ones who've been gone years. 

So we had a good cry, all of us. Then we sat down to dinner, just the four of us, and then headed to church. It was a good Christmas, made bright by so many wonderful people and good days and fun moments. It was. It really was.

We spent so much time with the grandneighbors. We had them all of Christmas Eve morning and we baked and we read stories and we played games and did crafts. And it was perfect. They came over Christmas morning and opened presents by the tree and ate a big breakfast and relaxed a little before we all had to go about preparing our Christmas dinners. I cannot begin to explain how much their presence in our lives means. We are so blessed that they are all a part of our family. 

And we relaxed. We played games. Big Bang Theory Clue and Big Bang Theory UNO and cards and puzzles. We read books and passed them between one another. John Grisham and Janet Evanovich and Sue Grafton and Anne Lamott. Books so good we didn't want to put them down and we raced under the tree to grab before the rightful owner could grab them (This might have been me, going for the latest Stephanie Plum book, the day after Christmas. Maybe. It might have been my mom's book. But she's great. And I read it fast).

So yes, we had a white Christmas. Yes, we had a wonderful Christmas. Yes, we had a no power for a day and a half. Yes, I had the flu. Yes, it was lovely and tiring and relaxing and stressful and fun. It was family. It was perfect.

Michigan, here I come!

Tomorrow is the end of my Los Angeles year. I'll board a plane shortly after sunrise and head to Michigan, my winter home for the next month, where I know they've got snow and cold temperatures and weeks of parties and celebrations and everything I want this Christmas season: my friends and family.

2013 was quite a year. As Angela and I talked about Christmas cards we decided we couldn't top last year's oceanside shots and went with the more traditional year in review via photographs. I love Christmas cards. I love getting them in the mail, sitting down to write them, seeing who's sent a letter and who's moved. It's old fashioned but it's something I cling too. My Grandma MacDonald used to write out cards for everyone in her address book and it often took her all of December. Sometimes she'd still have a few to send out after Christmas but it didn't matter because she'd write a note to include and she enjoyed it. I want to carry that on.

In the top left is Angela and I at her University of Phoenix graduation where I participated in the ceremony as a faculty member and she received her Master of Arts in teaching. Then there we are "skiing" on Grouse Mountain in Vancouver. Then that's all of us at the Magic Castle in Los Angeles when Mom and Dad visited this spring.

The milkshakes are a little obvious but we're eating at Canter's and we had the best meal that day. We ate and laughed and my mom bonded with the waitress who was being treated badly by her manager. I watched my mom give that woman a big tip that day and it reminded me of just one of the million reasons I love my parents. Below that is Ang and I by the space shuttle Endeavor when we chaperoned her sixth graders on a field trip this fall. We saw the Endeavor twice this year and it was awesome. I hope to visit again next year! Science is cool!

In the middle and right below are pics from our day at the American Music Awards Red Carpet. Then me and Mom at Venice Beach on her birthday in May soaking up the sun and getting our toes wet. Below that we're back at Grouse Mountain with cousin Doris who spent the weekend in Vancouver with us sightseeing and having just the best time.

The bottom row is Angela and I at a Tigers game, one of many we attended this year. It's also the photo we tucked inside my grandparents' caskets as we laid them to rest this summer. Next season won't be quite the same without them.

Next is Angela and I at Griffith Park, in the Observatory parking lot overlooking the Hollywood sign. We finally got mom and dad up there at 7am on a Sunday morning with coffee and donuts and it was a perfect way to see the city. Quietly and without smog. Finally, a shot from Mom and Dad's surprise 40th anniversary party. We started planning it almost a year ago. What a year it has been.

This Christmas will be different. We lost three grandparents this summer/fall. It will be the first time in my life when I don't get off a plane in December and call my Grandma Cows to tell her I've landed (she was terrified of us traveling and I know she rarely slept when we were scheduled to fly but hearing the relaxation in her voice and giving her a big hug soon after made it all worth it). It will be the first time we have a Knapp family Christmas without our matriarch (I will drink a big glass of egg nog this year for you Grandma, even if the rest of my family thinks egg nog is weird, I love it! Thank you for giving me that!). It will be the first time we don't trek to Harry & David to load up on Moose Munch and summer sausage and all of the treats grandpa loved (we switched to treats some time ago, after he quit smoking so much but I still remember when Angela and I used to wrap up pouches of pipe tobacco as his gift each year!). It will be different. It will be hard. And yet? It will be.

There is so much that will happen over the next few weeks. Christmas parties and open houses, worship services, dinners with friends, Christmas celebrations with families both in Michigan and in Canada, gifts to wrap and unwrap, New Years balls to watch drop, Rose Bowl fun with Michigan State in the mix, baking the Christmas morning plunkett with the grandneighbor girls, unwrapping Christmas morning gifts with all three of the grandneighbors, playing board games with Susie, visiting old friends. I can not wait.

Merry Christmas, everyone! Happy New Year too! 2013 was an amazing year. And I know 2014 has so much more in store!

10 books...

One of my college roommates, Tracy, challenged me to list 10 books that have impacted my life. Here they are in no particular order which will probably drive Tracy, the librarian, crazy! 

1.     Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott (the ultimate guide to writing and life, Anne is AMAZING)

2.     Izzy Willy Nilly by Cynthia Voigt (the scene where she describes her first taste of milk post-surgery still gives me chills, I use it in writing classes as an example constantly)

3.     To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee (which can I just say, I read for the first time TWO years ago!!! The public school system failed me!!!)

4.     Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller (he challenges the notions of religion and faith and I love that!)

5.     Last Act by Christopher Pike (first scary book I read, I had to take Angela to the bathroom with me I was so scared particularly because it was a snow day and we were home alone!)

6.     The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton (I didn’t read this until five years ago, when I taught it to my 7^th graders. I read it 4 times in 2 years and could read it again right this very second. I have never been so moved by a reading experience)

7.     Superfudge by Judy Blume (it’s one of the first chapter books I remember my mom and dad reading to me)

8.     Palomino by Danielle Steel (the first romance/grownup novel I read, the summer before 8^th grade – my grandmother gave it to me!)

9.     The Bible (my student version is covered in scribbles and highlights and folded down pages)

10. The script book for season 1 & 2 of The West Wing by Aaron Sorkin (I’ve read these scripts over and over and pattern my writing on them)

PREGNANT OR NOT, HERE WE COME staged reading

It happened! It really happened!

Tuesday night at 6:30pm I walked into the ACME comedy theater in Hollywood and they flipped the stage lights on. The actors gathered, the music stands were set up, the front of the house was opened and BAM! We put on a show!

It was an incredible night and I know I've gushed about it on Facebook and Twitter and Instagram and here in my blog and to some of you poor souls in person but it was really, truly incredible.

For the first time ever I hear and saw actors perform a script I'd written. With a live audience. Like people who laughed and chuckled and applauded. I really still am in awe of the whole experience.

I've been writing scripts for over five years (and that's just the time I've been writing professionally, in Los Angeles - I was writing them for fun back home too!). Those 10,000 hours people talk about? Oh, I'm all over that. Literally. And to have these producers and these actors put their faith in my story, my words, in me? Wow. Just wow.

I started writing this script in the winter. Well, thinking about it. The real work came in the spring. A draft was done in June. Since then it's become a little different, a lot different, better, and something that is real. It's become characters and people and smiles and laughs and quiet moments of suspense (yes, it's a sitcom but still, there gotta be stakes!).

And all of this staged reading excitement came together in the last six weeks or so. And Sonora, Dasha, Angela and Devon have been amazing. They are the reason why instead of a nice tidy little 37-page script on my computer, this story got to be told, got to be shouted from a stage!

Everyone keeps asking me how I feel, how it felt to sit in the audience Tuesday night and I gotta say, I still can't quite describe it. I wasn't nervous until the lights went down and Josh the announcer came on in a booming voice and read the title of our script. Then I started shaking. It became real in that second. So real.

But as I sat back and tried not to turn around and watch for laughs or reactions from my friends, I watched Ashlie and Keith and Sonora and Jessica become my main characters. Leah was no longer the protagonist in my mind, she was this awesome girl who was really trying to get dressed, who was really laughing, who was really standing right there in front of me. It was incredible.

Sonora, Keith, Ashlie, Jessica, Claire, Devon and ME!

The end is a bit of a blur. People applauded, the cast took a bow and I ran back stage to thank them all. Then I ran back out to thank our audience. I didn't catch everyone because there were flowers to collect, photos to be taken, and lots of hugs but I am blown over by the people who took the time to come out on a Tuesday night and watch our little adventure.

The reaction was positive and I hope that everyone in the audience that night and everyone who gets to see it later on video enjoys the experience. That's all I ever want people to do when they read something I've written, enjoy themselves. Whether they laugh or cry or wonder or ponder or get mad or sad or happy, I want them to feel something, to experience a story. And I believe that's what happened Tuesday night.

We don't know what's next. There was debriefing yesterday, phone calls and emails, and there will be so much more of that. There will hopefully be some meetings and connections made and who knows, maybe a sale or a pilot or something even more exciting. I know that I've had positive feedback from some industry folks and I hope that continues. That's what we're all looking for, to expand our networks and our reach, to continue to tell our stories, play our parts and work with awesome people.

Speaking of awesome people, as the Ashlie left Tuesday night she told me we were not done working together and that she hoped she got to play Leah again soon. I love that. That, to me, is awesome praise.

So if you were there Tuesday night, or supported me from a far, thank you. If you know about this project, know the work that I put into it, thank you for taking this amazing journey with me. I can't wait to see where we go next!

A Staged Rehearsal

Angela Knapp, Keith Gerchak, Ashlie Atkinson & Sonora Chase

Sunday morning I woke up to a deadline. Final script pages due by noon. No more tinkering. No more changing. No more anything. A final read through with Angela and then a poke of the send button and it was done. Script finalized.

Until last night.

Last night we had our staged reading rehearsal. Tonight it will all unfold on the ACME Theater stage but last night it unfolded in a living room with numbered spots at a table, with Angela filling in for the reader of the stage directions. Last night was the first time I got to hear this cast read my words. And it was amazing.

It has been 1,898 days since I started studying screenwriting and pursuing this vocation full-time at UCLA. That's 5 years, 2 months, and 11 days. Ask anyone in my life, it's been a long time coming. And it's not even here yet. But it's begun.

Amazing. Simply amazing. To hear these actors, these people who get paid to do this, stand up in front of me and act out a story I wrote. To embody these characters I created from the ether.

Amazing.

There were only small changes. There were a few questions and a few laughs but mostly, there was work. There was intense focus on the part of all of the people in the room last night and that was pretty freaking cool.

When I wrote the lead of my story I didn't have an actress in mind. To me, she's just Leah. But last night, Ashlie brought Leah alive. She gave her an awesome voice and a beautiful face. When I wrote the lead's main foil, Trainer, I did have an actor in mind. Someone a little different than Keith. But last night Keith blew me away. He brought Trainer to life and made me laugh over and over. I love that. And Sonora, to pull all of this together and to be an amazing Chase? Have I used the word amazing too much? No. She was amazing.

In an hour and a half I will head off to the main event. We'll have a cast/crew dinner beforehand and then at 7:30 the show will go on! I am beyond excited. I can't wait to share this night with a theater full of people. I can't wait for what's next!

The One-Sheet and figuring it all out

In five days these four actors pictured above, plus a few others, will be sitting on a stage at the ACME Theater reading my script. Out loud. For an audience of about 100 people. Industry folks. Friends. Loved ones. Anyone we can pull off the street who wants to laugh for about 30 minutes. 

It's all coming together and it's been an amazing learning experience. This week the emails and phone calls have flown back and forth across the city. We've created a one-sheet (see the flyer above) to drum up interest and explain to people what we're doing. We've sent out hundreds of invitations and solidified the cast list. We've worked on staging and figured out the logline and tagline (just little summaries of what the show's about). We've fretted and fritted and all that good stuff. Basically, we're working. All of us.

And it's been exciting, and maybe a little nerve-wracking. But it's good. All so good. We're doing it. We're making it happen. And above all? Next Tuesday night as we hear the words "End of Show" read, we're going to celebrate. Celebrate a year's worth of passion and work and hope. Celebrate collaboration and storytelling and making something. We're going to celebrate. 

And yes, we're going to record it. So if you can't make it next week (and if you're in Los Angeles, I hope you can make it - let me know and I'll save you a seat!) make sure to attend the viewing party my mom is already planning in Michigan over Christmas. There will be cookies.

It's all about the presence

You know that old saying, when it rains it pours? Well, that was my yesterday. Work-related, personal stuff, house issues, Homeless Lunch. It poured. A lot. But you know what? That's okay. I have a nice balance in my life of craziness and quietness. I go through stretches of not leaving the house, of sitting alone at my desk, of not being terribly social. And then I go through December 2013. Quiet the opposite. But I love it. I really do. (Though Angela may have a different perspective, last night I might have had a meltdown over the ants in the cupboard and the broken pipe under the house not being fixed and the craziness and when she offered me half a bottle of wine, I might have taken her up on it and then watched three sitcoms in a row. I might have.)

But I wanted to reflect on some of the craziness in a particular way this morning. I want to remember that there's a purpose for the madness, a purpose far greater than me or anything I can know.

See, yesterday, I got to Homeless Lunch right on time. I walked in with my donations (I try to take something every week whether it's Ralph's bags or books off the shelf or a shirt I don't wear anymore, it's a great decluttering technique that provides something for people in need) and was immediately told Mark wanted to see me. By three different people. And then there were more donations coming in. And then the security guard came in to say a Homeless Guest wanted to talk to a pastor. And well, the regular 10am stuff had to be done too in order for us to be ready at 11am to open our doors. And wait a second, wasn't it the first Tuesday of the month? The first should always be quieter, less Guests as the checks have come in. But quietness was not around yesterday. Not at all.

Within moments Mark found me, and Linda, our "boss". He wanted to know if we'd write something up for a sermon he's preaching at the end of the month on presence. Not "presents" like the gifts we'll get on the 25th but "presence" like the idea of being there. The state of being present. He wants to include something about Homeless Lunch in his sermon. I love that. We agreed and moved on. Quickest meeting ever. Yay!

I unpacked bags, put clothing and shoes out on the tables, and helped load the lunch bag carts. And then I remembered the Guest who wanted to talk to the pastor. I found Dennis, our awesome security guard/Homeless Lunch helper, and told him to tell the Guest I wasn't a pastor but I'd like to pray with him. The man agreed and I headed outside the gates.

I introduced myself to Richard and we stood in the sun right there on the sidewalk in front of the church gates. I listened as he told me what was going on. His little sister, in her 40s (he's in his late 50s) had passed away the night before of an insulin reaction. She'd been living in a care home east of the city. His father had contacted him last night at a shelter he stays at regularly. I listened as he told me about visiting her a month ago, about how her kids don't visit her, about how the night before he cried and sang a song and remembered their last visit together. He told me how he'd only been out of prison a couple of years and it was hard to find a job without a car or permanent address or all of his teeth.

In about five minutes I learned a lot about Richard. I saw him cry, I teared up myself, and I asked him if I could pray with him. We prayed and I asked God to be with Richard and his family. To be with all of us that morning there at the church. He asked me after we prayed how God could let his sister die, his little sister who was a good person and just trying to survive. She took her medicine and prayed. I told him I didn't have any answers, I'm not sure anyone did. I told him my only solace was that this morning his sister was pain and disease free and that she was with God, smiling down on him and his family. I had no other words because frankly, I don't understand it myself.

I asked Richard if I could give him a hug and after we embraced I headed back inside the church. I sorted books and clothes and prepped for lunch. A few minutes went by and I was called back to the front gates. Richard was asking for me. He'd found the lyrics to the song he'd been singing the night before and wanted me to hear them. As I stood there, on the other side of the gate, leaning close to hear his soft sweet voice, I listened to the lyrics of B.J. Thomas' "You Gave Me Love".

The song is beautiful, it's a love letter to Jesus and Richard made me promise to Google it when I got home to hear it sung by a true professional. (I did immediately yesterday afternoon though Richard's voice was just as lovely.) As he finished singing, Richard smiled and said, "Sarah, today you gave me love" and he walked away, to the back of the lunch line.

I stood there for a moment then headed back to the kitchen. And it wasn't until last night when I was recounting the story to Angela that it hit me. Yes, Richard asked me for a bus token yesterday, as many guests often do. They don't have money and they're usually looking for some. But when I told him I didn't have one for him, he just continued on with his story. Telling me about his sister and how sad he was. Then when he came back to sing the song to me I realized that while he was asking for a bus token yesterday, what he was really looking for was someone to be present with him in that moment. He needed to share his grief and pain with someone. All he needed was for me to be present. I'm so grateful I could be.

I told Richard I hope to see him next week or next month, that I hope he checks back in with us and lets me know how he's doing. We see hundreds of people every month at Homeless Lunch and I don't remember a lot of names though I do remember every face. And it's taken me a while but I've realized they remember us as well. While the lunches and the socks and the occasional book or sweatshirt are important, what's just as important is the presence we have in each others lives. That point was made abundantly clear to me over and over during the busyness of yesterday.

Not only was Richard a blessing to me, I had three other encounters with Guests yesterday that made my heart sing. That reminded me of how important it is to be present in life and in the life of others. When I first got to Lunch yesterday I took a bottle of really heavy flower-scented lotion that I'd gotten for Angela but she didn't like and sought out one of my friends in line. He's an African American man who's always asking for lotion for his dry skin. I prefaced my lotion with the fact that it smells kinda-girly and if he didn't want it, my feelings would not be hurt. He laughed and told me he's secure in his manhood and liked how it smelled. He promised me my gift would be our little secret as he tucked the bottle into his backpack. I like that during my week, even though Homeless Lunch is only a Tuesday event, I am reminded of my friends there.

Then there was Michael. I've known Michael for five years now, since my first day at Homeless Lunch. He's been to church once with us and he's a regular at Lunch. He's funny and sweet and respectful, if loud. And Michael always asks about Angela and tells me he's going to sign up for college classes online, just like the ones I teach. Every week he gets new clothes and has them on before I leave for the day (sometimes before he leaves the Lunch area!). Michael's someone you might call a character. And yesterday, as he sat on the ground near me, tying his new-to-him shoes, he pulled this out of his backpack.

I have no idea where he got the card, it didn't have an envelope, but I do know he'd put some thought into it and written it out before he'd gotten to Lunch yesterday. I love how specific he was and how even on a day that wasn't a Tuesday, and there was no sack lunch from us, he'd thought of all of us and made a point of recording that. I really can't tell you how much I love that. That God has these concrete ways of reminding me how good He is and how good people really are. Of how much love there really is in the world. 

Finally, yesterday, I got a gift at Homeless Lunch. (Beyond all the love and God messages!) I'd been in the backroom looking for something specific for a Guest when I heard my name over and over again. I walked back to the Lunch area and came face to face with an older woman I recognized but hadn't seen in a while. She smiled broadly and held up a Macy's bag for me. "For you!" she announced. She also handed me a card about a Christmas Open House at another shelter in town and told me she hoped she'd see me there. She said the bag was full of donations for us but there was a cape-like sweater that she thought would be perfect for me, and I had first dibs she said. She smiled so much and kept tell me Merry Christmas and I was just blown away. She not only remembered my name but she wanted to give me a Christmas gift and here she was, in line for free lunch herself. I thanked her profusely, felt bad I didn't know her name but rationalized that I do wear a nametag and our Guests don't, and then took the bag inside to examine the contents.

This is the sweater. It's a bit big but it's really quite nice. And even though I left it at the church to donate to someone because I have several sweaters, I won't soon forget that she brought it to Lunch with me in mind.

I give credit to Mark for putting the idea of presence into my brain yesterday morning when asking me to write something about it. But I have to say, God did a pretty impressive job yesterday giving me some great memories to remind me of how important presence is. Just showing up is really all some people want from us. Just being a smiling face in the crowd. I know that when I don't make it to Lunch on Tuesdays, I'm not happy about it. I miss it. And I like that. I like knowing that the Guests at Lunch impact me maybe as much as I impact them, maybe even more.

Guest Blogger - Angela's Advent Devotion

Here is the devotion Angela wrote for the Hollywood UMC Advent Devotion Booklet: 

Isaiah 40:9-11

“He will feed his flock like a shepherd; he will gather the lambs in his arms…”

When the holiday commercials start on television, the decorations line the aisles of the stores, and the songs are piped through the streets I think of family. The holidays to me are family. Shopping for the gift that will put a smile on a loved one’s face, baking a favorite family recipe, and sharing in the hugs of the season are my favorite things.

Spending time with our family is what makes the holidays special. Family comes in all shapes and sizes and is found in many places. God wanted us to be His family; he has called us to him. He feeds us and gathers us into his arms. He is love. In Jesus, God sent us the most precious gift we will ever receive.

This holiday season my family is smaller than it was last year. With the passing of three grandparents this past summer I know this year will be different. I know that there will be moments of sadness and wanting of years past. But I also know that God will gather me in his arms and feed my soul. Traditions will be passed on, new traditions will start, and the memories are forever mine.

This holiday season when you sit sown to share a meal or reach your arms out to welcome someone into your home be mindful of the moment you are in. Go as slowly as you can, stay longer than you might otherwise. Take the time to show God’s love to everyone you encounter. 

Dear God,

Thank you for our family near and far. Thank you for the memories we have and the ones to be made. Keep us gathered in your arms and allow us to keep you in our hearts. Amen.

My Advent Devotion

Here is the devotion I wrote for the Hollywood UMC Advent Devotion Booklet:

Isaiah 40:1-5

Isaiah chapter 40 starts out calmly with instructions from God, “Comfort, comfort my people.” This is a departure from the earlier part of Isaiah’s book which included many harsh warnings. Isaiah lived in a time of civil war, a time when people cared more about their appearances then the poor, when alcoholism and idolatry were rampant. I can’t help but think that’s a little like the time we live in. And I can’t help but think that God’s instructions to comfort His people apply just as much now as they did then.

This section of Isaiah goes on to remind us to raise up every valley and make every mountain and hill low, so that the glory of the Lord will be revealed. But are we really expected to clear the roads and straighten the paths for Jesus? Physically? Emotionally? How can we know just what to do and how can we do it in this society that encourages just the opposite?

Christmas is the perfect time, and the perfect excuse, to “prepare ye the way of the Lord”. It’s a time to breech the gap, to find peace, to reach out to people near and far. To “comfort, comfort my people”. I keep thinking about the three times this year when I found myself mourning family members, grieving alongside my mother, my father and my sister. I keep thinking about the comfort those around us provided. Hugs, kind words, a casserole, a spray of flowers, sitting down to watch a ball game in silence next to us. Something so little, something taken for granted most of the time, meant so much. It meant comfort. It meant someone was helping to prepare for the glory of God to be revealed. It meant love.

Prayer for today: Lord, help us in this time of preparation for the baby Jesus’ birth, to not only make the paths and valleys and mountains right but to comfort one another and love one another, just as you love us.