And it actually might end us all.
Tonight I'm going to a gathering of my former co-workers at the ad agency I used to work at in Portland. We have all traveled far and wide to be here: Los Angeles, San Francisco, Seattle, Vermont, New York and all points in between. It meant something for all us to be here.
There's a reason I'm here. I'm here to see people who transformed my life at the age of 23 and got me to see once again that the world is bigger than I imagined it. The Jesuits of my high school did it for me when I was 13, the artists in New York City did that for me when I was in my mid-twenties, and it's something that I constantly have to remind myself. Art has a purpose. Art and Commerce can co-exist. When you are communicating the truth, it can have a powerful impact. It can sell computer software, it can sell shoes, it can sell soda, and it can have meaning. What I learned working for Wieden and Kennedy is that storytelling is powerful.
This is why I moved to Los Angeles to try to make it as a TV writer. It's why I write plays, to share something truthful and common about the human experience. We were a motley crew of copywriters, art directors, music directors, ad sales associates, and visionaries. It's important to be a visionary. It is also a hard road, full of ups and downs, successes and failures, triumphs and tragedies. We were schooled by some of the best creatives in the business. And now we have gone to other places in our lives. We come back together with the full extent of our experiences and it's time to share that with each other again. These are people who are at the top of their game in every respect, in different fields. And now we're back together. To reminisce. To remember. And to re-inspire each other.
My boyfriend kept saying to me this week on the phone that I must be excited for the party. What I'm excited for is to be around that energy because I, for one, needs to be reminded of what a powerful force we were all together. It was almost like we were living in this dreamland, in this commune of Portland, in community. The agency was at the top of its game when I lived there. It was a fun place to be when I was young. But I don't think I realized how special it was to be in that environment and I don't think I truly appreciated how it was going to influence me in the future. But it has.
I have stories to tell. I want them to have impact. And I want them to have power. Sometimes that power comes from our ability to communicate. It's what I would like to do in television. If I can bring that determination, that truthfulness, that relentlessness to my work...if I can do what this agency did, then I can really do something. It was a great environment to learn something from. I imagine it might be similar to what the comedians who have gone to the school of Saturday Night Live feel like.
Chris Rock once said about SNL that no one leaves less famous for having been on the show. I also don't think they end up a worse comedian. I think they become better. Even though that environment was treacherous, difficult and a real crash course, it made them better. Much in the way that the influence of that time, being around those people who may or may not have known what they were doing at various points, had a major influence on me.
There's something about the act of creation that is a mess. But if you can find a place of being unencumbered, a place of freedom, then you can fun fast and far. That road might not be endless, but it can take you far.
So now I'm going to leave, and head to this reunion, to get shitty drunk. But I'm going to celebrate all that that time in my life meant to me and what it has done and will continue to do for me.
I never understood the term "Golden Age" until this week. When you are touched by something like that, it makes you better. There's a term in the TV business called "camp", as in being a part of the Joss Whedon camp, the Shawn Ryan camp, the David Chase camp. This means that if you were on a show that those showrunners ran, you somehow were christened as gifted and you were better for it.
I think we were all lucky to be a part of the W+K camp and have become better in someway because of it. And that's not just bullshit or blowing air up anyone's ass. It's the truth. And I think the full effect of the Loyola camp, the W+K camp, and the Tisch School of the Arts camp has yet to be realized in me.
Saturday, March 31, 2012
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Pageant Weight
I was holding my nephew, waiting for my brother to take a picture...
"Hold your stomach in."
Ugh. I've gained some weight. I'm in a happy relationship and I've put on that dreaded happy weight! Damn!
It's nothing that anyone would notice except for my brother. And my friend Victor, who said that I looked like I had LOST weight. Although I think he was being sarcastic or a saboteur. I haven't lost weight. He might be mocking me, too.
And having a little extra weight for this reunion is fine. I looked great at my high school reunion. But I have to take the weight off for any TV meetings. That simply won't due.
My weight fluxuates a bit. I really don't have any real issues around it. But I can feel that my stomach feels big. To me. So that's when it's time for me to slim down. I need to be a good 15 pounds lighter than I am. I've put on muscle, which is terrific. But I need to get rid of whatever I have in the middle.
The Drummer and I are supposed to be on the same page. Right now, I think he's looking way better than me. I need to get to running. The no cardio thing is not good. I haven't had time for my dance classes, which I think affects things as well.
My friend Tracee was Miss Memphis when we were in grad school and she lost a good 20 pounds which she didn't need to lose for normal life, because she looked too thin. But in pictures and for pageants, she looked terrific. I just need to be at pageant weight in the next month. That's all.
And with the nice boufant that my hair is right now, someone will look at my svelte bod and my full head of hair and say to me, "I hope you win."
I'd better win. I'm a winner!
"Hold your stomach in."
Ugh. I've gained some weight. I'm in a happy relationship and I've put on that dreaded happy weight! Damn!
It's nothing that anyone would notice except for my brother. And my friend Victor, who said that I looked like I had LOST weight. Although I think he was being sarcastic or a saboteur. I haven't lost weight. He might be mocking me, too.
And having a little extra weight for this reunion is fine. I looked great at my high school reunion. But I have to take the weight off for any TV meetings. That simply won't due.
My weight fluxuates a bit. I really don't have any real issues around it. But I can feel that my stomach feels big. To me. So that's when it's time for me to slim down. I need to be a good 15 pounds lighter than I am. I've put on muscle, which is terrific. But I need to get rid of whatever I have in the middle.
The Drummer and I are supposed to be on the same page. Right now, I think he's looking way better than me. I need to get to running. The no cardio thing is not good. I haven't had time for my dance classes, which I think affects things as well.
My friend Tracee was Miss Memphis when we were in grad school and she lost a good 20 pounds which she didn't need to lose for normal life, because she looked too thin. But in pictures and for pageants, she looked terrific. I just need to be at pageant weight in the next month. That's all.
And with the nice boufant that my hair is right now, someone will look at my svelte bod and my full head of hair and say to me, "I hope you win."
I'd better win. I'm a winner!
My Retrospective
Still in Portland...
Had drinks with my friend Molly last night. Every time I come to Portland, I have to see Molly. She's my touchstone when I come back to town. We both are going through similar changes in our lives that involve starting new chapters. She is looking to start a new career perhaps. I'm ready to involve myself fully in the path that I have chosen. It's not like I've been lazy. I have been working hard. But I haven't put my passion into my work because I exchanged that for trying to become a salesman (for more on this, read my guest blog at ).
Molly and I had a good talk. It's one of those conversations with someone who has known you for years. You know, the kind where there's a shorthand because that person has seen you through thick and through thin. That person knows all of your secrets, has seen you through various parts of your life. Sometimes it's just good to know that in the midst of the struggle to hold on to your identity, that a friend understands exactly what you've been through.
Part of that is forgiving yourself for not being a superstar at 25. Part of that is realizing that life is about the journey. And if you're a person who has truly lived all the experiences of his life, fully in the moment, then that kind of living is successful living. It's only when I start comparing myself to other people that I start feeling like a failure. But there are still things to learn from prior incarnations.
That's why I feel like the Universe is sending me some sort of message. I feel like the past seven or eight months have been about a retrospective, going back to past experiences and looking at them again. The first one was college. Back in August, I had gotten a phone call to come back to my alma mater and teach in the Fall. By teaching students, I came face to face with the ambitious, hard working student I was who was producing work at a rapid pace and just running on pure passion. There's something about that 20 year old self and about the 20 year olds I was teaching that I needed to connect to. I also needed to realize in the time that has passed, I had amassed a shit ton of knowledge and that I had to own the fact that I was no longer a student. It was time to take my authority and use it.
I have made several trips to Portland over the past 12 months, mainly to see my brother and his family. This trip involved meeting my brand new nephew for the first time. And on every trip, I would see old college friends who live here. And I would also see my friend Andrea, who I used to work with. It's one thing to reminisce about the old times and to talk about those crazy work experiences when I was in my early 20s. But it's a whole other thing to relive some of those experiences and to reunite with those people.
That's the other reason I'm here on this trip. Andrea told me I had to come out for the 30th Anniversary of Wieden + Kennedy, the ad agency we used to work at. The thought of reconnecting with people who had a significant amount of influence in how I saw my world open up was exciting. And if I had just come to town to see Andrea and catch up with a few old co-workers, then I was fine with that. Because at the time, I didn't know who would come out.
The party is this Sunday, April Fools Day. It turns out that one of our co-horts, the other woman I worked with, Kimberly is flying out from Vermont. The thought of the Three Musketeers, as it were getting back together was enough to make me puke pixie dust. And then my friends, Joe and Andy, said they were coming. I also had lived in New York at the same time they moved to New York. Then Kimberly set me up on an email chain that was going around. Holy shitballs! There were tons of people flying out for this thing. And it seems like we were working there during a sort of Golden Era for the agency, which also meant that a lot of folks who were there when I was there were making it a priority to come back for the party. Then my friend Tess facebooked me and said she was flying in this morning. This thing is going to be better than my high school reunion in a lot of ways (no offense to my high school classmates, but this is a global company with a ton of resources to spend on this party).
Retrospective. I'm looking back at another significant time in my life with some perspective. I lived in Portland right before I moved to New York. I worked on a major World Cup campaign for Latin America. I had been in the trenches with people. I was young and really stretching my capabilities. My life could have gone in the advertising direction at that time, but I was laid off due to cut backs and I moved to New York, where another part of my destiny awaited me.
New York. If I'm in the midst of some sort of Life Review/Retrospective, then is New York next? I asked this question out loud with Molly last night. Is New York going to come back to me in some significant way?
For the time being, I'm just going to get to Sunday. Actually, Saturday Night the gang is all getting together to hang out before the big party the next day. But I just need to focus on seeing Andrea, Kimberly, Joe, Andy, Tess and other friends from that era to celebrate an experience that we all shared together in this small city that still had yet to come into its own. Now Portland certainly has its own identity as a city and now people know of its charms, like we all did when we lived here and it was our playground.
The other thing that Molly and I talked about last night is patterns. For me, significant changes in my life happen in 13 year cycles. I was thirteen when I saw the high school I wanted to attend which was out of the way and inconvenient for my parents to send me to. But it changed my life and it opened up my world to something bigger. It really set the stage. Then at twenty six I started graduate school and that opened up my world even more. I studied the thing I had been dreaming about my whole life. And now thirteen years later, I am at a crossroads, a place where my world can even open up more. Because now I have the education behind me, the drive to put myself into the world I want to be a part of and the next step is that action. It's ready for me now. It has taken some time, but now in this next cycle it's time for me to claim myself, my authority, my knowledge, my ability.
One more thing to share, an analogy. When you're making a gumbo, you need to make what is called a roux. A roux is a thickening agent which is made from flour and fat, mainly butter. In order for your gumbo to have a depth of flavor and not to taste raw (therefore signifying that it's not ready), you have to cook your roux until it gets nice and dark. But if you cook it too long, it's going to burn.
I told Molly it was like our roux was ready. It was too raw before and if we had taken if off the stove earlier, it would have tasted unfinished and it wouldn't have had the depth and richness it needed to make a great gumbo. But if we leave it on any longer, it's going to burn. So it's the perfect time to take it off the stove and incorporate it into our gumbo. Our roux is ready.
When I think about it that way (because I love everything about food), I feel good about the amount of time this gumbo has taken to prepare.
Ready for take off...more accounts from this reunion to come.
Had drinks with my friend Molly last night. Every time I come to Portland, I have to see Molly. She's my touchstone when I come back to town. We both are going through similar changes in our lives that involve starting new chapters. She is looking to start a new career perhaps. I'm ready to involve myself fully in the path that I have chosen. It's not like I've been lazy. I have been working hard. But I haven't put my passion into my work because I exchanged that for trying to become a salesman (for more on this, read my guest blog at ).
Molly and I had a good talk. It's one of those conversations with someone who has known you for years. You know, the kind where there's a shorthand because that person has seen you through thick and through thin. That person knows all of your secrets, has seen you through various parts of your life. Sometimes it's just good to know that in the midst of the struggle to hold on to your identity, that a friend understands exactly what you've been through.
Part of that is forgiving yourself for not being a superstar at 25. Part of that is realizing that life is about the journey. And if you're a person who has truly lived all the experiences of his life, fully in the moment, then that kind of living is successful living. It's only when I start comparing myself to other people that I start feeling like a failure. But there are still things to learn from prior incarnations.
That's why I feel like the Universe is sending me some sort of message. I feel like the past seven or eight months have been about a retrospective, going back to past experiences and looking at them again. The first one was college. Back in August, I had gotten a phone call to come back to my alma mater and teach in the Fall. By teaching students, I came face to face with the ambitious, hard working student I was who was producing work at a rapid pace and just running on pure passion. There's something about that 20 year old self and about the 20 year olds I was teaching that I needed to connect to. I also needed to realize in the time that has passed, I had amassed a shit ton of knowledge and that I had to own the fact that I was no longer a student. It was time to take my authority and use it.
I have made several trips to Portland over the past 12 months, mainly to see my brother and his family. This trip involved meeting my brand new nephew for the first time. And on every trip, I would see old college friends who live here. And I would also see my friend Andrea, who I used to work with. It's one thing to reminisce about the old times and to talk about those crazy work experiences when I was in my early 20s. But it's a whole other thing to relive some of those experiences and to reunite with those people.
That's the other reason I'm here on this trip. Andrea told me I had to come out for the 30th Anniversary of Wieden + Kennedy, the ad agency we used to work at. The thought of reconnecting with people who had a significant amount of influence in how I saw my world open up was exciting. And if I had just come to town to see Andrea and catch up with a few old co-workers, then I was fine with that. Because at the time, I didn't know who would come out.
The party is this Sunday, April Fools Day. It turns out that one of our co-horts, the other woman I worked with, Kimberly is flying out from Vermont. The thought of the Three Musketeers, as it were getting back together was enough to make me puke pixie dust. And then my friends, Joe and Andy, said they were coming. I also had lived in New York at the same time they moved to New York. Then Kimberly set me up on an email chain that was going around. Holy shitballs! There were tons of people flying out for this thing. And it seems like we were working there during a sort of Golden Era for the agency, which also meant that a lot of folks who were there when I was there were making it a priority to come back for the party. Then my friend Tess facebooked me and said she was flying in this morning. This thing is going to be better than my high school reunion in a lot of ways (no offense to my high school classmates, but this is a global company with a ton of resources to spend on this party).
Retrospective. I'm looking back at another significant time in my life with some perspective. I lived in Portland right before I moved to New York. I worked on a major World Cup campaign for Latin America. I had been in the trenches with people. I was young and really stretching my capabilities. My life could have gone in the advertising direction at that time, but I was laid off due to cut backs and I moved to New York, where another part of my destiny awaited me.
New York. If I'm in the midst of some sort of Life Review/Retrospective, then is New York next? I asked this question out loud with Molly last night. Is New York going to come back to me in some significant way?
For the time being, I'm just going to get to Sunday. Actually, Saturday Night the gang is all getting together to hang out before the big party the next day. But I just need to focus on seeing Andrea, Kimberly, Joe, Andy, Tess and other friends from that era to celebrate an experience that we all shared together in this small city that still had yet to come into its own. Now Portland certainly has its own identity as a city and now people know of its charms, like we all did when we lived here and it was our playground.
The other thing that Molly and I talked about last night is patterns. For me, significant changes in my life happen in 13 year cycles. I was thirteen when I saw the high school I wanted to attend which was out of the way and inconvenient for my parents to send me to. But it changed my life and it opened up my world to something bigger. It really set the stage. Then at twenty six I started graduate school and that opened up my world even more. I studied the thing I had been dreaming about my whole life. And now thirteen years later, I am at a crossroads, a place where my world can even open up more. Because now I have the education behind me, the drive to put myself into the world I want to be a part of and the next step is that action. It's ready for me now. It has taken some time, but now in this next cycle it's time for me to claim myself, my authority, my knowledge, my ability.
One more thing to share, an analogy. When you're making a gumbo, you need to make what is called a roux. A roux is a thickening agent which is made from flour and fat, mainly butter. In order for your gumbo to have a depth of flavor and not to taste raw (therefore signifying that it's not ready), you have to cook your roux until it gets nice and dark. But if you cook it too long, it's going to burn.
I told Molly it was like our roux was ready. It was too raw before and if we had taken if off the stove earlier, it would have tasted unfinished and it wouldn't have had the depth and richness it needed to make a great gumbo. But if we leave it on any longer, it's going to burn. So it's the perfect time to take it off the stove and incorporate it into our gumbo. Our roux is ready.
When I think about it that way (because I love everything about food), I feel good about the amount of time this gumbo has taken to prepare.
Ready for take off...more accounts from this reunion to come.
Honesty
I’m writing a play about honesty. The funny thing about writing a play about honesty is that the writing has to be honest as well. The writing should always be honest, but it’s especially now with this play. It’s forcing me to be as honest as possible.
My writing has evolved to a point where my technical abilities are what they are. I’ve been writing since I’m twelve and at a time when my need to express dominated my writing. The writing was sloppy, but the sentiments were truly honest. As I’ve added a high level of craft to my writing—through fiction classes in high school, playwriting courses in college and graduate school—the writing has become increasingly more and more clever. I perfected my humor by writing monologues at the Blue Dog Café on Carmine Street in the West Village, underneath my apartment in New York. I learned how to write TV scripts—tight scenes, jokes that propelled the story forward, act breaks that had suspenseful events. I know how to craft a story. But all of that technique always runs the risk of making the writing too technical, methodical and cold.
At this point in my abilities, honesty is paramount. It’s more important than ever.
I like to think that I became a become a better writer with everything I write. But if I may speak honestly, I don’t think that was true of the last couple TV scripts I wrote. I started writing to get hired for jobs. It lost the heart of why I write in the first place, which is to make sense of the world around me, to approach truth. My truth. And as a result, the writing suffered.
I’m listening to all of the Madonna songs on my iPod. Listening to an ample selection of the Madonna oeuvre, what occurs to me is the presence of honesty in the songs—to varying degrees. I hear the songs from Ray of Light and I hear how raw much of that album is. Some of the production is bare and the lyrical content really comes through in an honest way. It’s more confessional than anything. Then I listen to an album like Confessions on a Dance Floor and it sounds so hollow to me. None of the songs resonate with me—not really. Maybe “I Love New York” –but that’s because I do. The purpose is so dance driven, but the intent isn’t there.
My favorite album is still Like a Prayer because it is so diverse. “Like a Prayer” is nothing like “Express Yourself”, which is so different from “Love Song”, “Til Death Do Us Part”, “Cherish” and “Keep It Together” for example. That album is the most honest and expressive. I get the return to the dance floor in Confessions and the escapism of it. Erotica was so dark and sexual and a real concept album. It has real purpose, even though some of the songs on that album seem to lose their way. I don’t tend to enjoy the songs or albums that feel conflicted or uncertain. Bedtime Stories, Confessions, and Hard Candy are like that to me. Yes, there’s a lightness and shallowness that works in the first album, Like a Virgin and True Blue; but that’s because we didn’t need or expect any more from her. Those albums were honest in her expression of pure youthful joy.
Then came Like a Prayer. Then came Ray of Light. Both true pieces of pop artistry. The influences of Joni Mitchell, Carole King, Motown and the music of her youth are all there. These are the moments where Madonna feels like a singer-songwriter in that tradition. You can sense the maturity. I don’t fault Madonna for taking 10 years between the two best albums of all time. Because baring your soul and making it fun to listen to is hard.
And I don’t fault her for putting 14 years between the last masterpiece (“Masterpiece” is playing right now, btw) and this one: MDNA. Like Like a Prayer, each song is totally different. “Girl Gone Wild” harkens back to her early 90s Erotica era. “Gang Bang” has a Quentin Tarantino vibe to it. “I’m Addicted” is pure euphoric dance. “Turn Up the Radio” reminds me of Donna Summer in a light way. “I Fucked Up” is pure confession, yet with a great drive. “Masterpiece” is pure Spanish guitar classic Madonna ballad. I’m totally into the album. (How this conversation about honesty became a discussion of Madonna’s body of work, I don’t know. But it makes sense if you know me)
This is the marriage of her confessional work, the drive of the beat, her neo-Disco roots and her sexuality. It’s infectious and introspective. In a way, my goal as a writer has been to marry my introspection and my desire to entertain and be infectious in my writing. It’s what draws me to pop music. Erik Ehn once said about my 20 year-old writing style that it was mercurial and like a great pop song. I have never forgotten that. Probably because he’s a genius and one of the theatre artists I most admire. And it described me perfectly, even now.
My work at its best is confessional, yet packaged in a way that isn’t self indulgent (I hope). It’s meant to be enjoyed by everyone, not just a sneak peek into my personal journal.
Honesty.
It’s what I respond to the most in plays I read, songs I listen to, movies I see, etc. And in my own work it’s the most noticeable element either in its presence or absence. So it’s funny that this play is about honesty. It’s challenging me. It’s keeping me honest. That is my barometer.
We say as teachers and commentators of the craft: Keep It Honest. Write what you know. But what a challenge it is to honor those simple edicts. Yet, that is all that is required. And honesty is what cuts across all barriers: Authenticity. YOUR truth. Keeping It Real.
These have become statements of pop philosophy. We hear people proclaim their ability to maintain a level of honesty, at all times, which means integrity. We are all called to maintain our integrity. It’s an interesting thing to think about. It’s almost like we need to Post It to our foreheads, our mirrors, our vision boards.
So this is one giant Post It for me to Keep It Honest in every moment, every word, and every breath of this play. And the many, many more to follow.
My writing has evolved to a point where my technical abilities are what they are. I’ve been writing since I’m twelve and at a time when my need to express dominated my writing. The writing was sloppy, but the sentiments were truly honest. As I’ve added a high level of craft to my writing—through fiction classes in high school, playwriting courses in college and graduate school—the writing has become increasingly more and more clever. I perfected my humor by writing monologues at the Blue Dog Café on Carmine Street in the West Village, underneath my apartment in New York. I learned how to write TV scripts—tight scenes, jokes that propelled the story forward, act breaks that had suspenseful events. I know how to craft a story. But all of that technique always runs the risk of making the writing too technical, methodical and cold.
At this point in my abilities, honesty is paramount. It’s more important than ever.
I like to think that I became a become a better writer with everything I write. But if I may speak honestly, I don’t think that was true of the last couple TV scripts I wrote. I started writing to get hired for jobs. It lost the heart of why I write in the first place, which is to make sense of the world around me, to approach truth. My truth. And as a result, the writing suffered.
I’m listening to all of the Madonna songs on my iPod. Listening to an ample selection of the Madonna oeuvre, what occurs to me is the presence of honesty in the songs—to varying degrees. I hear the songs from Ray of Light and I hear how raw much of that album is. Some of the production is bare and the lyrical content really comes through in an honest way. It’s more confessional than anything. Then I listen to an album like Confessions on a Dance Floor and it sounds so hollow to me. None of the songs resonate with me—not really. Maybe “I Love New York” –but that’s because I do. The purpose is so dance driven, but the intent isn’t there.
My favorite album is still Like a Prayer because it is so diverse. “Like a Prayer” is nothing like “Express Yourself”, which is so different from “Love Song”, “Til Death Do Us Part”, “Cherish” and “Keep It Together” for example. That album is the most honest and expressive. I get the return to the dance floor in Confessions and the escapism of it. Erotica was so dark and sexual and a real concept album. It has real purpose, even though some of the songs on that album seem to lose their way. I don’t tend to enjoy the songs or albums that feel conflicted or uncertain. Bedtime Stories, Confessions, and Hard Candy are like that to me. Yes, there’s a lightness and shallowness that works in the first album, Like a Virgin and True Blue; but that’s because we didn’t need or expect any more from her. Those albums were honest in her expression of pure youthful joy.
Then came Like a Prayer. Then came Ray of Light. Both true pieces of pop artistry. The influences of Joni Mitchell, Carole King, Motown and the music of her youth are all there. These are the moments where Madonna feels like a singer-songwriter in that tradition. You can sense the maturity. I don’t fault Madonna for taking 10 years between the two best albums of all time. Because baring your soul and making it fun to listen to is hard.
And I don’t fault her for putting 14 years between the last masterpiece (“Masterpiece” is playing right now, btw) and this one: MDNA. Like Like a Prayer, each song is totally different. “Girl Gone Wild” harkens back to her early 90s Erotica era. “Gang Bang” has a Quentin Tarantino vibe to it. “I’m Addicted” is pure euphoric dance. “Turn Up the Radio” reminds me of Donna Summer in a light way. “I Fucked Up” is pure confession, yet with a great drive. “Masterpiece” is pure Spanish guitar classic Madonna ballad. I’m totally into the album. (How this conversation about honesty became a discussion of Madonna’s body of work, I don’t know. But it makes sense if you know me)
This is the marriage of her confessional work, the drive of the beat, her neo-Disco roots and her sexuality. It’s infectious and introspective. In a way, my goal as a writer has been to marry my introspection and my desire to entertain and be infectious in my writing. It’s what draws me to pop music. Erik Ehn once said about my 20 year-old writing style that it was mercurial and like a great pop song. I have never forgotten that. Probably because he’s a genius and one of the theatre artists I most admire. And it described me perfectly, even now.
My work at its best is confessional, yet packaged in a way that isn’t self indulgent (I hope). It’s meant to be enjoyed by everyone, not just a sneak peek into my personal journal.
Honesty.
It’s what I respond to the most in plays I read, songs I listen to, movies I see, etc. And in my own work it’s the most noticeable element either in its presence or absence. So it’s funny that this play is about honesty. It’s challenging me. It’s keeping me honest. That is my barometer.
We say as teachers and commentators of the craft: Keep It Honest. Write what you know. But what a challenge it is to honor those simple edicts. Yet, that is all that is required. And honesty is what cuts across all barriers: Authenticity. YOUR truth. Keeping It Real.
These have become statements of pop philosophy. We hear people proclaim their ability to maintain a level of honesty, at all times, which means integrity. We are all called to maintain our integrity. It’s an interesting thing to think about. It’s almost like we need to Post It to our foreheads, our mirrors, our vision boards.
So this is one giant Post It for me to Keep It Honest in every moment, every word, and every breath of this play. And the many, many more to follow.
Saturday, March 24, 2012
Shock of the New
Like I've mentioned, we did a reading of my new play last weekend at a reading marathon for Playwrights Union last Saturday. I had to sit through 55 pages of me trying to work out what my play is.
Then I heard what my play was and what it was really about.
Then on Monday I figured out the framework for the next draft.
I started on Tuesday by writing about 17 pages.
On Wednesday, I wrote about 10 more.
On Thursday, I probably wrote about 12 more.
Then on Friday morning I started out with about 1 1/2 pages. I thought: "This is it. I've been productive. I have written about 41 pages in four days. That should be fine. That should be enough. I won't write any more." I had blown off my goal of getting the draft done before I left for Portland.
Well, lo and behold, I wrote 28 more pages that night. And I finished a full draft of the play. At 2 AM.
I've written drafts of TV scripts in that amount of time. But never plays. It is quite the accomplishment. And I'm totally floored by it. I haven't gone back and read it yet. I need a little distance. I'm going to read it on the plane to Portland.
Then I'm going to rewrite the script again while I'm in Portland. I'm dying to tighten it even more. I'm very excited by that. I'm excited by this new play too.
Then I heard what my play was and what it was really about.
Then on Monday I figured out the framework for the next draft.
I started on Tuesday by writing about 17 pages.
On Wednesday, I wrote about 10 more.
On Thursday, I probably wrote about 12 more.
Then on Friday morning I started out with about 1 1/2 pages. I thought: "This is it. I've been productive. I have written about 41 pages in four days. That should be fine. That should be enough. I won't write any more." I had blown off my goal of getting the draft done before I left for Portland.
Well, lo and behold, I wrote 28 more pages that night. And I finished a full draft of the play. At 2 AM.
I've written drafts of TV scripts in that amount of time. But never plays. It is quite the accomplishment. And I'm totally floored by it. I haven't gone back and read it yet. I need a little distance. I'm going to read it on the plane to Portland.
Then I'm going to rewrite the script again while I'm in Portland. I'm dying to tighten it even more. I'm very excited by that. I'm excited by this new play too.
Friday, March 23, 2012
Creating Distance from Anxiety
It's the beginning of Spring. Flowers are in bloom. Pastels seem appropriate. Easter is coming soon.
If you're working in the TV industry, it's pilot season. Pilots are the first episodes of potential TV series that have the potential to be produced as series in the Fall. As pilots are being cast and filmed, the TV writer is rising out of hibernation. If he's a smart writer bear, he has been using his hibernation to write a new TV sample. In many cases, that means an original TV pilot. In some cases that means a sample of a pre-existing hit TV show currently on the air that's both critically acclaimed and popular. If you're a bit of a mentally slow writer bear, you're still writing your sample of SMASH or MODERN FAMILY or THE GOOD WIFE. That or you're trying to get a spot in some sort of writer's workshop run by one of the studios. And some writer bears are theatre bears and writing plays as their original samples.
The nice thing about theatre bears is that people think they are smarter than the average bear because they write PLAYS. From this point forward, we will refer to them as Yogis. And while we're clarifying terms, let me just say that my use of the term "bear" refers to someone who has just come out of hibernation in their writer cave. It does not refer to a thick, hairy gay man. Because even though I have documented in this blog that I've gained weight lately, I am still far from being a bear in the gay sense. Yes, that is my own self judgment. Because in my gay LA world, gaining weight only means 10 pounds. As long as I hit the gym and run the whole time I'm in Portland, I can come back in fighting shape, ready for all of these meetings I think I'm getting as a result of my brilliant original play sample.
That huge prologue was just an intro to talk about the anxiety that takes over the town during these wonderful Spring months. Everyone's getting pilots from their agents, managers or friends who have agents and managers and are able to get them CDs with the pilots on them. Or the passcodes to their respective agency's web script library. And they're reading, making lists of what shows they would be perfect for. Then they're going back and looking at their samples and dressing that their samples don't fit perfectly into what the networks and studios are looking for.
Most years I would be actively participating in this circle jerk of anxiety, getting myself all worked up into a lather. But this year I am not working in an office that's trying to staff writers. I've been teaching. I've been writing plays, directing plays, workshopping plays, reading plays, going to plays, talking about plays, etc. Which puts me square in the middle of a bukkake circle of anxiety about whether or not I'll be workshopping my new play at a summer theatre festival. But that is ANOTHER blog post.
Most people would have anxiety for not being in the loop. That probably is what kept me in the loop for so many years. But what I've discovered in my time away from all of this anxiety about staffing is that some of that anxiety affected my work. I was obsessed with what was good, what was bad, what was getting picked up. I'd send frantic emails to my managers saying they needed to send me out for X, Y and Z. I made diagrams of my six degrees of separation from showrunners. I reached out for favors. It all seemed pretty desperate. And it was. But it was also me doing my job of trying to get a job. It was my proactive, organized, direct approach to getting a staff writing job in an industry that's filled with insecure writers who are trying to crack the code of what will get them a job. So by nature it's desperate, even though I had the best of intentions.
SO what's my master plan this year? Just to lay back and let it all come to me? No. But I'm just trying to focus on being good. I have a script that I'm finishing that people seem to be interested in...at least in theory. They like the IDEA. But of course the expectation of what people have in their heads after you tell them your idea can get you in a world of trouble. It creates its own pocket of anxiety closer to home. So I'm trying to just get this done. I'm trying to focus on something that Twyla Tharp mentions in her amazing book THE CREATIVE HABIT. She says it's important to Fail in Private, so you fail less publicly.
That's what I'm focused on right now. Failing Privately. And when I'm done failing several times privately (and quickly), I'll be ready to succeed in public.
When this script is done, it will go to those people who are being supportive and who think my play will work well as a sample. Then I will let those people who are friends as well as colleagues spread the good news of this play like a virus. Then I'll go back to writing the next thing.
That's the only thing I have control over. Getting up. Getting to writing. Distancing myself from anxiety. And being productive. That's all I can do. The rest is not up to me.
Simple. And it has taken YEARS to figure that out.
If you're working in the TV industry, it's pilot season. Pilots are the first episodes of potential TV series that have the potential to be produced as series in the Fall. As pilots are being cast and filmed, the TV writer is rising out of hibernation. If he's a smart writer bear, he has been using his hibernation to write a new TV sample. In many cases, that means an original TV pilot. In some cases that means a sample of a pre-existing hit TV show currently on the air that's both critically acclaimed and popular. If you're a bit of a mentally slow writer bear, you're still writing your sample of SMASH or MODERN FAMILY or THE GOOD WIFE. That or you're trying to get a spot in some sort of writer's workshop run by one of the studios. And some writer bears are theatre bears and writing plays as their original samples.
The nice thing about theatre bears is that people think they are smarter than the average bear because they write PLAYS. From this point forward, we will refer to them as Yogis. And while we're clarifying terms, let me just say that my use of the term "bear" refers to someone who has just come out of hibernation in their writer cave. It does not refer to a thick, hairy gay man. Because even though I have documented in this blog that I've gained weight lately, I am still far from being a bear in the gay sense. Yes, that is my own self judgment. Because in my gay LA world, gaining weight only means 10 pounds. As long as I hit the gym and run the whole time I'm in Portland, I can come back in fighting shape, ready for all of these meetings I think I'm getting as a result of my brilliant original play sample.
That huge prologue was just an intro to talk about the anxiety that takes over the town during these wonderful Spring months. Everyone's getting pilots from their agents, managers or friends who have agents and managers and are able to get them CDs with the pilots on them. Or the passcodes to their respective agency's web script library. And they're reading, making lists of what shows they would be perfect for. Then they're going back and looking at their samples and dressing that their samples don't fit perfectly into what the networks and studios are looking for.
Most years I would be actively participating in this circle jerk of anxiety, getting myself all worked up into a lather. But this year I am not working in an office that's trying to staff writers. I've been teaching. I've been writing plays, directing plays, workshopping plays, reading plays, going to plays, talking about plays, etc. Which puts me square in the middle of a bukkake circle of anxiety about whether or not I'll be workshopping my new play at a summer theatre festival. But that is ANOTHER blog post.
Most people would have anxiety for not being in the loop. That probably is what kept me in the loop for so many years. But what I've discovered in my time away from all of this anxiety about staffing is that some of that anxiety affected my work. I was obsessed with what was good, what was bad, what was getting picked up. I'd send frantic emails to my managers saying they needed to send me out for X, Y and Z. I made diagrams of my six degrees of separation from showrunners. I reached out for favors. It all seemed pretty desperate. And it was. But it was also me doing my job of trying to get a job. It was my proactive, organized, direct approach to getting a staff writing job in an industry that's filled with insecure writers who are trying to crack the code of what will get them a job. So by nature it's desperate, even though I had the best of intentions.
SO what's my master plan this year? Just to lay back and let it all come to me? No. But I'm just trying to focus on being good. I have a script that I'm finishing that people seem to be interested in...at least in theory. They like the IDEA. But of course the expectation of what people have in their heads after you tell them your idea can get you in a world of trouble. It creates its own pocket of anxiety closer to home. So I'm trying to just get this done. I'm trying to focus on something that Twyla Tharp mentions in her amazing book THE CREATIVE HABIT. She says it's important to Fail in Private, so you fail less publicly.
That's what I'm focused on right now. Failing Privately. And when I'm done failing several times privately (and quickly), I'll be ready to succeed in public.
When this script is done, it will go to those people who are being supportive and who think my play will work well as a sample. Then I will let those people who are friends as well as colleagues spread the good news of this play like a virus. Then I'll go back to writing the next thing.
That's the only thing I have control over. Getting up. Getting to writing. Distancing myself from anxiety. And being productive. That's all I can do. The rest is not up to me.
Simple. And it has taken YEARS to figure that out.
Creating Space
Side Note: This month, the blog is turning into some sort of writer's tutorial. Unintentional. But since I'm spending a lot of time writing, then it makes sense that all of my energies are going in that direction.
I'm at Starbucks right now. In Pasadena.
I live in Burbank, which is about 11 miles away. This is a part of my ritual. Especially on a day like today, when I got a late start. The boyfriend just got back from Palm Springs and I got trapped in the love wrap. We call it Pretzel Time. It just feels so good and I haven't seen him in a few days. So I needed my Pretzel Time.
We had lunch together, but then I had to get started with the writing today. So I got in the car and started heading on the 134 to Pasadena. This is what I call creating space. I'm separating myself from the earlier part of my day. This is the equivalent of putting my "thinking cap" on. I'm getting into my Writer Zone. It's the same thing I do when I go on the 5 1/2 hour drive to Santa Clara to teach or to work on projects. I don't talk to anyone. It's my Transition Time.
Isn't it funny how we have to section off time and name it something? This is another way of creating space. Okay, now I'm going to go from this activity to this activity. But it's a great way of honoring ourselves. I'm writing now. I'm in the Writer Zone. I'm at work now. It's my way of Clocking In.
I got to Starbucks and immediately staked my claim on a spot. I plugged in my computer. There were many loud conversations going on. Some people treating this like it's social hour. Some people treating this like their living room or their car: they are on the phone. So I get my iPod out and plug in. Creating more space because people keep wanting to come into my personal space.
Then I get my tea. I sit back down. I look at the computer. I have 40 pages. I have to figure out how to get out of this scene. I write for about 10 minutes. Then I get to the end of the scene. One page later. My eyelids are heavy. But I can't leave. I created this space! I need to stay in it for a bit longer.
I could go on Facebook right now. Or Perez Hilton. Or Entertainment Weekly. Those are my go-to sites. But I open up my blog. And I start blogging. I start warming up my fingers. Then I blog about warming up my fingers.
Okay, that blog is done. I can still hear voices. I turn the volume up on my iPod.
Then I start another blog. Called "Creating Space." And here we are. Continuing to create space and keep all of the Space Invaders away. Kids on Spring Break unsupervised by parents. Annoying suburbanites. Other people who are using this as their office so they don't have to rent office space. Gosh, I hope this isn't the Starbucks in the area that's test marketing alcohol. The last thing I need are Drunk Space Invaders orbiting around me as I'm just trying to get some honest work done.
(sigh)
(Typetypetypetypetypetypetypetypetype.)
I'm at Starbucks right now. In Pasadena.
I live in Burbank, which is about 11 miles away. This is a part of my ritual. Especially on a day like today, when I got a late start. The boyfriend just got back from Palm Springs and I got trapped in the love wrap. We call it Pretzel Time. It just feels so good and I haven't seen him in a few days. So I needed my Pretzel Time.
We had lunch together, but then I had to get started with the writing today. So I got in the car and started heading on the 134 to Pasadena. This is what I call creating space. I'm separating myself from the earlier part of my day. This is the equivalent of putting my "thinking cap" on. I'm getting into my Writer Zone. It's the same thing I do when I go on the 5 1/2 hour drive to Santa Clara to teach or to work on projects. I don't talk to anyone. It's my Transition Time.
Isn't it funny how we have to section off time and name it something? This is another way of creating space. Okay, now I'm going to go from this activity to this activity. But it's a great way of honoring ourselves. I'm writing now. I'm in the Writer Zone. I'm at work now. It's my way of Clocking In.
I got to Starbucks and immediately staked my claim on a spot. I plugged in my computer. There were many loud conversations going on. Some people treating this like it's social hour. Some people treating this like their living room or their car: they are on the phone. So I get my iPod out and plug in. Creating more space because people keep wanting to come into my personal space.
Then I get my tea. I sit back down. I look at the computer. I have 40 pages. I have to figure out how to get out of this scene. I write for about 10 minutes. Then I get to the end of the scene. One page later. My eyelids are heavy. But I can't leave. I created this space! I need to stay in it for a bit longer.
I could go on Facebook right now. Or Perez Hilton. Or Entertainment Weekly. Those are my go-to sites. But I open up my blog. And I start blogging. I start warming up my fingers. Then I blog about warming up my fingers.
Okay, that blog is done. I can still hear voices. I turn the volume up on my iPod.
Then I start another blog. Called "Creating Space." And here we are. Continuing to create space and keep all of the Space Invaders away. Kids on Spring Break unsupervised by parents. Annoying suburbanites. Other people who are using this as their office so they don't have to rent office space. Gosh, I hope this isn't the Starbucks in the area that's test marketing alcohol. The last thing I need are Drunk Space Invaders orbiting around me as I'm just trying to get some honest work done.
(sigh)
(Typetypetypetypetypetypetypetypetype.)
Gutting It Out
My Ex's Dad used to have this expression: "Gut It Out." Meaning that whenever life got tough, you just had to push through. Gut it out. I feel that way about this script I'm working on right now. As I've gotten older, I started making all sorts of excuses.
Here are a few of my favorites/most used:
I'm tired.
I wrote yesterday.
It's terrible.
I have to go to the gym.
I don't know how good this is.
Wendy Williams is on.
The View is on.
Project Runway is on.
Bethanny Ever After...
My boyfriend needs me to stay in bed.
My boyfriend needs a blow job.
My boyfriend needs me to make him lunch.
I have no idea what comes next.
When it comes down to it, I just need to gut it out and push through. Because all of those excuses amount to uncertainty. Every time I sit down to write something new, it's like I've never written before. Isn't that weird? I have decades of writing experience. I have an MFA. I have readings, productions and workshops behind me. I used to work with writers developing their material. I've read hundreds of scripts. But when it comes down to writing something new, it's like I have none of that experience.
So while I might forget how to write, I can't forget that this is what I go through every time. The bottom line is that it's bullshit. I do know how to write. So, in the moment, I just have to pretend I know what I'm doing until I remember that I do know what I'm doing.
And that involves Gutting It Out.
That's why I like this blog (when I actually get down to writing). I just start writing whatever is on my mind. It just gets my fingers warmed up. And sometimes that's all I can do. Just get my fingers moving. I type at least 70 WPM. I just need to get my fingers moving and then the brain catches up with the activity of my fingers. Then before I know it, without thinking about it (this is key), I'm writing.
One page. Then another. And another and another and another. And before I know it, I'm done with a scene.
Then I have to remember how to do it again.
And so on and so on. Like that old shampoo commercial.
Gut. It. Out.
Here are a few of my favorites/most used:
I'm tired.
I wrote yesterday.
It's terrible.
I have to go to the gym.
I don't know how good this is.
Wendy Williams is on.
The View is on.
Project Runway is on.
Bethanny Ever After...
My boyfriend needs me to stay in bed.
My boyfriend needs a blow job.
My boyfriend needs me to make him lunch.
I have no idea what comes next.
When it comes down to it, I just need to gut it out and push through. Because all of those excuses amount to uncertainty. Every time I sit down to write something new, it's like I've never written before. Isn't that weird? I have decades of writing experience. I have an MFA. I have readings, productions and workshops behind me. I used to work with writers developing their material. I've read hundreds of scripts. But when it comes down to writing something new, it's like I have none of that experience.
So while I might forget how to write, I can't forget that this is what I go through every time. The bottom line is that it's bullshit. I do know how to write. So, in the moment, I just have to pretend I know what I'm doing until I remember that I do know what I'm doing.
And that involves Gutting It Out.
That's why I like this blog (when I actually get down to writing). I just start writing whatever is on my mind. It just gets my fingers warmed up. And sometimes that's all I can do. Just get my fingers moving. I type at least 70 WPM. I just need to get my fingers moving and then the brain catches up with the activity of my fingers. Then before I know it, without thinking about it (this is key), I'm writing.
One page. Then another. And another and another and another. And before I know it, I'm done with a scene.
Then I have to remember how to do it again.
And so on and so on. Like that old shampoo commercial.
Gut. It. Out.
Mini Solo Writers ReTREATS
This week has been a good productive week for the writing. The boyfriend was in Palm Springs for a few days for his own get away. So I used that time to really get the writing time in. I'm 40 pages into the new script.
I had a routine for myself. Since dating The Drummer, I haven't really been getting up early to work. And I'm a morning person. I am the most productive in the morning. Then I hit a lull in the afternoon. And I rev back up in the evening.
Even when I was teaching, I would be up by 7:30 or 8 (which is late for me if I don't have a regular schedule). So every morning he was gone, I woke up around 9. Got my emailing done. Got as much writing done as I could. Then I would go work out. Then I would do some more work. By that time, it's the early afternoon. I would have lunch and then maybe nap or run errands or wind down somehow. By the time the evening came around, I was ready to work again.
I'm leaving to Portland on Monday for a week. Some of that time was set up as a mini retreat for myself. I am coming to down for the 30th Anniversary Party of my old ad agency. But I also want to meet my nephew who was born in January. So I'm taking advantage of my brother not being in town for the first three days of my trip to get my own work done. I plan to finish the next draft of my play by this weekend. Then have Sunday off to relax and hang with the boyfriend. Then when I get to Portland, I'll be in full writer mode again and get as much done in those first three days as possible.
It will be a full change of pace, so I can work from their home for a bit. Then go to the gym in the NW section of town. Then I can cook and eat and write all day long. Most of my friends who live in town will be out of town with their kids for Spring Break during those first three days. And my friends who are coming in for the party, won't be coming in until later that week. So those first three days can be time to hibernate.
Then the bro and his family come back on Wednesday. Then I will get work done as I'm able to. And the rest of the trip will be more social. Our big company party is on the first of April and I'll need that next day to fully recover.
I'm looking for little mini cheap getaways for myself to get away and get work done. I'm more productive when I have fewer distractions. It's all a part of me making my own schedule and dedicating my time fully to my work. It's all a part of the vision.
I had a routine for myself. Since dating The Drummer, I haven't really been getting up early to work. And I'm a morning person. I am the most productive in the morning. Then I hit a lull in the afternoon. And I rev back up in the evening.
Even when I was teaching, I would be up by 7:30 or 8 (which is late for me if I don't have a regular schedule). So every morning he was gone, I woke up around 9. Got my emailing done. Got as much writing done as I could. Then I would go work out. Then I would do some more work. By that time, it's the early afternoon. I would have lunch and then maybe nap or run errands or wind down somehow. By the time the evening came around, I was ready to work again.
I'm leaving to Portland on Monday for a week. Some of that time was set up as a mini retreat for myself. I am coming to down for the 30th Anniversary Party of my old ad agency. But I also want to meet my nephew who was born in January. So I'm taking advantage of my brother not being in town for the first three days of my trip to get my own work done. I plan to finish the next draft of my play by this weekend. Then have Sunday off to relax and hang with the boyfriend. Then when I get to Portland, I'll be in full writer mode again and get as much done in those first three days as possible.
It will be a full change of pace, so I can work from their home for a bit. Then go to the gym in the NW section of town. Then I can cook and eat and write all day long. Most of my friends who live in town will be out of town with their kids for Spring Break during those first three days. And my friends who are coming in for the party, won't be coming in until later that week. So those first three days can be time to hibernate.
Then the bro and his family come back on Wednesday. Then I will get work done as I'm able to. And the rest of the trip will be more social. Our big company party is on the first of April and I'll need that next day to fully recover.
I'm looking for little mini cheap getaways for myself to get away and get work done. I'm more productive when I have fewer distractions. It's all a part of me making my own schedule and dedicating my time fully to my work. It's all a part of the vision.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Creative Crutch: Potato Salad
Years ago Entertainment Weekly had this thing called the HOT LIST or the IN LIST or something. And they picked the most creative people that year a series of questions. One of the questions was, "What's your Creative Crutch?" And as a kid I answer the questions, in preparation for my eventual inclusion in the issue one day.
And my answer was POTATO SALAD. I love store bought potato salad. This from a person who has been to Italy and Paris. This from a person who loves foie gras. But it's one of those things I just love. And when I'm working, I like to eat things that seem comforting.
Although I'm the heaviest I've ever been in my life right now, so that's not good.
I had a pair of shorts rip in the back today. Granted they were made out of poplin, a shirt material. But that did not make me feel any better.
I'm going to have to make up the cardio later. But for now I'm going to just eat what I want and write as much as I can. I'll worry about it later. Plus, I'm going to Portland. They're more forgiving of a little belly there.
And my answer was POTATO SALAD. I love store bought potato salad. This from a person who has been to Italy and Paris. This from a person who loves foie gras. But it's one of those things I just love. And when I'm working, I like to eat things that seem comforting.
Although I'm the heaviest I've ever been in my life right now, so that's not good.
I had a pair of shorts rip in the back today. Granted they were made out of poplin, a shirt material. But that did not make me feel any better.
I'm going to have to make up the cardio later. But for now I'm going to just eat what I want and write as much as I can. I'll worry about it later. Plus, I'm going to Portland. They're more forgiving of a little belly there.
The Universe is Conspiring
And it needs to KEEP conspiring.
I had coffee with my friend Larry yesterday. Larry's one of the writers in the Playwrights Union. We both unemployed right now and have free time to WRITE (which is what we are doing and should continue doing) and MEET up for coffee (in his case) and tea (in mine...still caffeine free). We're both trying to make our way to that illusive first staff writing job. And we're both working our asses off. So we were comparing notes a bit.
During that conversation, my friend Susan emailed me to call her about some job possibilities she had.
On my way home, I saw the email and called her right away. She said she knew someone who was looking for help. She's a writer who needs an assistant. I had some reservations, but right now I'm more poor than skeptical. Then she said she had transcribing work for me as well for projects she's working on. This is good. I could use some money, even though I have some coming in through unemployment. But more money is good.
Then Larry followed up on our conversation and asked me to read a script of his that his manager didn't want to send out. I read it and had some notes. We chatted this morning and based on some advice I had included in the notes, he asked if I would write a guest blog post on his blog. I liked that idea, so I said yes.
I reached out to the women that Susan had put me in touch with to have a call with her at 4 PM. Never heard back, but she called me at 3:58. Another red flag. Then she called me on her way to somewhere with the window down so I could hardly hear her. But what I made out is that she's totally disorganized and has this whole business she wants to put together and needs a "right hand." I've been here before and some of my skepticism was confirmed. But again, my poorness outweights my questions at this point. I told her what I do and how I could possibly help her. But I also had reservations. I told her that we could meet this weekend, but that I would look at her Facebook page (huh?) and her incomplete website (oy) to get any more information about the company. She also said to Google her. This does not look great. But if the money's good and if the demand on my time isn't crazy, then I'm interested in talking further. But if needs someone to organize her, she's not going to be organized in this conversation. But it's good to have possibilities.
Then I reached out to my friend Elyzabeth to catch up and she mentioned this writers conference that she's going to be at this summer which is a part of the teaching job she's taking for the school year starting in the Fall. She said I should apply if I'm not doing anything this summer. Another lovely option. Spend a week with a bunch of writers at the end of the summer? Hell yeah. I'm game.
So I feel like the Universe is conspiring for something. I'm 39 pages into this new rewrite. I'm going to do more tonight. I wrote the blog post. I sent it to Larry. I leave to Portland next week where I will be rewriting what will be a full draft by the time I leave for Portland. I have my own little writers retreat set up. My brother and his family are out of town until Wednesday, then I'm with them for a week. I'm also going to this anniversary party for the ad agency I used to work at. More people to meet and catch up with and more destiny out there waiting for me. I feel like it's a time for supreme connectivity.
So it's time for the Universe to conspire. I'm working my ass off and I'm ready.
I had coffee with my friend Larry yesterday. Larry's one of the writers in the Playwrights Union. We both unemployed right now and have free time to WRITE (which is what we are doing and should continue doing) and MEET up for coffee (in his case) and tea (in mine...still caffeine free). We're both trying to make our way to that illusive first staff writing job. And we're both working our asses off. So we were comparing notes a bit.
During that conversation, my friend Susan emailed me to call her about some job possibilities she had.
On my way home, I saw the email and called her right away. She said she knew someone who was looking for help. She's a writer who needs an assistant. I had some reservations, but right now I'm more poor than skeptical. Then she said she had transcribing work for me as well for projects she's working on. This is good. I could use some money, even though I have some coming in through unemployment. But more money is good.
Then Larry followed up on our conversation and asked me to read a script of his that his manager didn't want to send out. I read it and had some notes. We chatted this morning and based on some advice I had included in the notes, he asked if I would write a guest blog post on his blog. I liked that idea, so I said yes.
I reached out to the women that Susan had put me in touch with to have a call with her at 4 PM. Never heard back, but she called me at 3:58. Another red flag. Then she called me on her way to somewhere with the window down so I could hardly hear her. But what I made out is that she's totally disorganized and has this whole business she wants to put together and needs a "right hand." I've been here before and some of my skepticism was confirmed. But again, my poorness outweights my questions at this point. I told her what I do and how I could possibly help her. But I also had reservations. I told her that we could meet this weekend, but that I would look at her Facebook page (huh?) and her incomplete website (oy) to get any more information about the company. She also said to Google her. This does not look great. But if the money's good and if the demand on my time isn't crazy, then I'm interested in talking further. But if needs someone to organize her, she's not going to be organized in this conversation. But it's good to have possibilities.
Then I reached out to my friend Elyzabeth to catch up and she mentioned this writers conference that she's going to be at this summer which is a part of the teaching job she's taking for the school year starting in the Fall. She said I should apply if I'm not doing anything this summer. Another lovely option. Spend a week with a bunch of writers at the end of the summer? Hell yeah. I'm game.
So I feel like the Universe is conspiring for something. I'm 39 pages into this new rewrite. I'm going to do more tonight. I wrote the blog post. I sent it to Larry. I leave to Portland next week where I will be rewriting what will be a full draft by the time I leave for Portland. I have my own little writers retreat set up. My brother and his family are out of town until Wednesday, then I'm with them for a week. I'm also going to this anniversary party for the ad agency I used to work at. More people to meet and catch up with and more destiny out there waiting for me. I feel like it's a time for supreme connectivity.
So it's time for the Universe to conspire. I'm working my ass off and I'm ready.
Write or Left
It's funny that I've resisted writing any sort of blog about writing that would be considered any sort of advice source.
I taught in the Fall and loved it.
I worked for a manager for years and know a lot of shit.
I have my MFA from NYU in DRAMATIC WRITING.
And I give advice to people all of the time. I just wrote an email to a friend of mine about how as playwrights we turn that creative/passionate part ourselves off when it comes to writing for TV. Now he wants me to turn it into a blog post so he can put it on his blog, as a guest blog sort of thing.
Then I got a lead on a gig working to help a woman grow her business that caters to writers as a sort of creative workshop thing. I have a lot of skills in that direction for sure. But the question I have for myself right now is if I want to be working for someone else in that capacity. I just got off the phone with her and the phrase "right hand" was used.
My relationship to that term is sorted. I worked for a manager for many years as his "right hand" and got no credit. Then I worked for two married EPs on a pilot and that experience was great. But I was working on their vision (which is a necessary evil in the TV business and also a great way to learn).
Now here's a woman who could definitely benefit from my skill set. I just don't know if I'm going to benefit from hers.
But here's the difference. I now know my value. So I had a quick phone call with her to discuss what she needs. . I don't think she knows what she needs, which is fine since she is looking for a "right hand." Part of it feels like I would be giving away my skill set for virtually free.
Here's my definition of FREE:
Anything where someone else is benefiting from my skill set/expertise/hard work more than I am.
So I'm understandably skeptical. She seems like a nice woman with a vision. But I still have to do more investigation before I commit to anything. It seems like a lot of ideas and plans without much money or organization. . And her answer to that I'm assuming would be, "that's where you come in."
I'm just not sure I want to jump into that pool.
But I will write the blog entry. That seems interesting, helpful and doable to me.
I taught in the Fall and loved it.
I worked for a manager for years and know a lot of shit.
I have my MFA from NYU in DRAMATIC WRITING.
And I give advice to people all of the time. I just wrote an email to a friend of mine about how as playwrights we turn that creative/passionate part ourselves off when it comes to writing for TV. Now he wants me to turn it into a blog post so he can put it on his blog, as a guest blog sort of thing.
Then I got a lead on a gig working to help a woman grow her business that caters to writers as a sort of creative workshop thing. I have a lot of skills in that direction for sure. But the question I have for myself right now is if I want to be working for someone else in that capacity. I just got off the phone with her and the phrase "right hand" was used.
My relationship to that term is sorted. I worked for a manager for many years as his "right hand" and got no credit. Then I worked for two married EPs on a pilot and that experience was great. But I was working on their vision (which is a necessary evil in the TV business and also a great way to learn).
Now here's a woman who could definitely benefit from my skill set. I just don't know if I'm going to benefit from hers.
But here's the difference. I now know my value. So I had a quick phone call with her to discuss what she needs. . I don't think she knows what she needs, which is fine since she is looking for a "right hand." Part of it feels like I would be giving away my skill set for virtually free.
Here's my definition of FREE:
Anything where someone else is benefiting from my skill set/expertise/hard work more than I am.
So I'm understandably skeptical. She seems like a nice woman with a vision. But I still have to do more investigation before I commit to anything. It seems like a lot of ideas and plans without much money or organization. . And her answer to that I'm assuming would be, "that's where you come in."
I'm just not sure I want to jump into that pool.
But I will write the blog entry. That seems interesting, helpful and doable to me.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Writing Buddies
It's important to have company when you do something as lonely as writing. I'm a member of The Playwrights Union, a group of like minded playwrights living in LA trying to make a go of it in all mediums. When we had our annual playwriting challenge and reading this weekend, I felt kind of taken care of.
I had coffee with my friend Larry today and we just got outside into a beautiful LA day and talked about stuff. It felt so good to just have the same language as someone else who is a playwright and thinks creatively, but also has the desire to make a living as a writer in Hollywood.
It made me think of my other writing buddies. My friend Elyzabeth, who lives in Alabama with her daughter. She's producing her own work and getting people to come see her cook and do theatre at the same time. I think about my friend Susan who I went to NYU with and who has always been a cohort of mine. Then I think of my friend Kevin who is also trying to forge a consistent TV writing career out here. He's been staffed before.
The work of the Playwrights Union made me long for my days running NYU Writers Lab West, with my good friends Susan, Aurorae, Gina and Avery. We had a great run of two years producing cool material. And it makes me want to produce more work by myself and my other friends out here. I'm good at that.
But I have to remember something The Drummer told me recently. He said that his goal as a drummer was to just focus on being good. And as much as I like to plan and orchestrate, I think that's a great plan.
Just be good.
Everything else will figure itself out as people react to how good you are.
I had coffee with my friend Larry today and we just got outside into a beautiful LA day and talked about stuff. It felt so good to just have the same language as someone else who is a playwright and thinks creatively, but also has the desire to make a living as a writer in Hollywood.
It made me think of my other writing buddies. My friend Elyzabeth, who lives in Alabama with her daughter. She's producing her own work and getting people to come see her cook and do theatre at the same time. I think about my friend Susan who I went to NYU with and who has always been a cohort of mine. Then I think of my friend Kevin who is also trying to forge a consistent TV writing career out here. He's been staffed before.
The work of the Playwrights Union made me long for my days running NYU Writers Lab West, with my good friends Susan, Aurorae, Gina and Avery. We had a great run of two years producing cool material. And it makes me want to produce more work by myself and my other friends out here. I'm good at that.
But I have to remember something The Drummer told me recently. He said that his goal as a drummer was to just focus on being good. And as much as I like to plan and orchestrate, I think that's a great plan.
Just be good.
Everything else will figure itself out as people react to how good you are.
Exposing your left breast, right nut and murderous tendencies...
That's kind of what this past weekend was like.
I'm a part of a group called The Playwrights' Union here in LA, which is composed of writers who can actually write. It's not a namby pamby writers group featuring a bunch of people who have always wanted to write, but have never done so. This is the real deal, filled with people who are having productions, winning awards and kicking ass in the theatre world.
They do this annual challenge where you have a month to write the first draft of a new play (or as much of it as you can finish). Then you get together at the end of that month to sit in living rooms and hear what you've written. It goes from Friday night through Saturday night (of course, you go home and sleep, then come back). It's intense. This year, we had nine plays total.
I went on Saturday afternoon and I was nervous. Not because I was worried about my work. I knew it wasn't a complete first draft. I just wanted to hear what everyone else was doing. It was entertaining. Some plays were super polished. Some plays were in a more fragile state (for example, my play). But it was this really safe environment to hear work and to have yours heard. I had coffee with a friend today who was there and we were both marveling at how great the notes were and how generous the environment was. Maybe that had to do with the fact that most of us had gone to graduate school and have been writing for a long time.
But hearing my play read did feel like I was exposed. Like I was in that dream where you show up to school naked. Only in this case I had an erection that was bright red. Ultimately it was a good exercise in humility and process. You have to finish the work, present the work and then go and rewrite the work. It's a constant process and I'm happy that I got to go through it with eight other writers who are intelligent and talented.
We all had bright red erections that day.
I'm a part of a group called The Playwrights' Union here in LA, which is composed of writers who can actually write. It's not a namby pamby writers group featuring a bunch of people who have always wanted to write, but have never done so. This is the real deal, filled with people who are having productions, winning awards and kicking ass in the theatre world.
They do this annual challenge where you have a month to write the first draft of a new play (or as much of it as you can finish). Then you get together at the end of that month to sit in living rooms and hear what you've written. It goes from Friday night through Saturday night (of course, you go home and sleep, then come back). It's intense. This year, we had nine plays total.
I went on Saturday afternoon and I was nervous. Not because I was worried about my work. I knew it wasn't a complete first draft. I just wanted to hear what everyone else was doing. It was entertaining. Some plays were super polished. Some plays were in a more fragile state (for example, my play). But it was this really safe environment to hear work and to have yours heard. I had coffee with a friend today who was there and we were both marveling at how great the notes were and how generous the environment was. Maybe that had to do with the fact that most of us had gone to graduate school and have been writing for a long time.
But hearing my play read did feel like I was exposed. Like I was in that dream where you show up to school naked. Only in this case I had an erection that was bright red. Ultimately it was a good exercise in humility and process. You have to finish the work, present the work and then go and rewrite the work. It's a constant process and I'm happy that I got to go through it with eight other writers who are intelligent and talented.
We all had bright red erections that day.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)