a writing job

Today I met with the theatre lady regarding the nature of the project. How’s this for ironic? I've been commissioned to write a twenty minute script consisting of six vignettes about civil war-era characters and their lives centering around a plantation. To back the bus up, there’s this plantation near where I live that hosts a “ghost walk” every year on the grounds of the “Big House”. I’ll give you one guess who’s writing the script.

I’m anxious to get started because a) this is “living theatre” and very high visibility (over 1,000 people see it every year) for where I live and b) these crimson necked folks chose my negroid behind to write the script. How’s that for ironic? I get to write a scene between two slaves, Towerhill and Clem, who’d escaped for a short time before eventually being caught and returned. It’s only 2 minutes long, but I’m more excited to write that scene than anything ever in my life.

I talk mad shit about these small town theatre bastards, but networking with them has overall been more beneficial than harmful. Because of them, I got back into theatre (managing props, but whatever), landed voiceover work and now this opportunity to create a production on this scale. Yeah, these are the same ignorant bastards that asked me to be a freaking HOUSE SERVANT in “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof”, but after the smack down was laid, they knew where I was coming from.

So that’s where the afternoon finds me: panic attacks have subsided and I have been handed one of the biggest writing jobs of my career. And for the record: fuck the plantation. I just hope I can do Towerhill and Clem justice.

the mind of the unmarried man

I know nothing about men, my own husband included (mainly because I don't listen, but nevertheless). Anyhow, I had a curious conversation with a male friend of mine today. Seems that after years of playing the field (a small, very possibly inbred southern town field), he thinks he's ready to settle down for the forever. Of course, he made the mistake of asking me what I thought, so I told him: he's not ready. In fact, he'll never be ready. I'm saying this because, prior to him talking marriage, he talked for a good hour in excruciating detail about how- ahem- "unsatisfying", annoying and culinary-challenged his future bride was. Ya'll, the boy was about to call her a yellow cab because he couldn't be bothered to take her home for fear of having to talk to her. Is this what goes through a man's mind just before the proposal? Somebody clue me in.

There is another side to this story. I tend to place my friends in little boxes: my "crazy" friend, my "logical" friend, my "friend with four children so she can't go out on Saturday nights quite so often" friend and so on. I have two "guy" friends- straight men with those all-important gay man qualities. These men don't want to sleep with me, but will not hesitate to provide advise or scolding when needed. They were also single, so I could joke about how they were destined to die alone. Well, last year, one got married off and upset the delicate balance. Now, it's happening again. I have got to stop putting people in boxes and accept the fact that they are, in fact, people. Life is not a ten minute jobby with them as characters. I wonder if I'm a character in somebody else's life? If so, who/what am I? Hmm. This requires much more metacognition than I'm capable of on a Saturday afternoon.

roses and then some

The first thing I did today when I went to work was order myself a dozen white roses. I usually have flowers delivered to myself whenever I’m feeling down- it tends to brighten my day, you know? Then I changed up my screensaver from Corbin Bleu to a slightly more recent Corbin Bleu (Corbin Neu?) and set about the business of the day. And wouldn’t you know, today was actually great! First, my very talented writer-friend paid my work a compliment. Sincere compliments are always welcome, but even more so from this woman as she is like a dull butcher knife- she doesn’t mince (words, that is). She read the drug dealer short. I'm actually partial to that one, too. Hopefully, the L.A. producers will be, as well.

Then this evening, I received a solicitation email from my local theatre company. You know, the penis holes who wouldn’t give my work time of day and, incidentally, asked me to play a HOUSE SERVANT in "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof"??? Anyway, they asked if I had a ten minute jobby featuring two women. See, they’re looking for a piece to showcase during an event on 11 April and thought of me. Even though they’re bastards, I was still verklempt. Unfortunately, I don’t have anything that is strictly two women, but do you think that’s gonna stop me? Hell to the naw, potnah! After I finish this, I’m gonna go write something and send it to her tomorrow. Wish me luck.

Still haven’t heard anything from L.A.- neither my mentor nor the producers. That and the fact that I did something REALLY stupid at work that I'm hoping doesn't blow up in my face is making me a nervous wreck. Oh well, just gotta push forward, right? Right-o.

have you had your plus sign today?

Go ahead and scratch that whole "this week is gonna rock!!" thing. Ain't happnin', Cap'n.

However, I've resolved to move forward into today with a new outlook. I didn't get a call yesterday from my mentor, which made me anxious. I also haven't heard back from the producers about my drug dealer short. This also is cause for anxiety, as they responded within two days to my last offering. I keep telling myself that, because we have a relationship now, the producer would send a kind email saying this isn't what they were looking for. Right? I hope so. Things were trucking along nicely until we interviewed a guy for my position at work. Ya'll, this guy was REALLY good. I mean, better than me! That's when it hit me that I was not only replaceable, but one in a million at what I do. Of course, that sent the ol' ego into a tailspin. I called my husband to warn him of my foul mood before I got home and when I arrived home, he'd bought me "Enchanted" on DVD and some scratch off lottery tickets to brighten my day.

One of my friends' houses just burned down. No, it's not a punchline. Her spot is really burned down. I feel incredibly sorry for her and at the same time grateful that my house is still standing. Everything else sort of pales in comparison, no? I mean, here I am whining about being replaced by someone who will put my work to shame when this lady's house is gone. Not negating my feelings, just searching for perspective.

So that's where the morning finds me, dear readers, desperate for the lighthouse of positivity among the choppy waters of uncertainty. Maybe I'll get a call today, maybe I won't. Maybe my script will be accepted, maybe it won't. But at least I still sit on MY toilet in MY un-burned down house and complain about it.

a break in the clouds?

Tonight my son and I saw "College Road Trip" with Martin Lawrence and Raven Simone. Being that we were two of a smattering of folks in the theatre, this naughty monkey (despite the stern warning from Kung Fu Panda) took the opportunity to read email via Palm. That’s when I saw a message from my mentor, a career screenwriter living in Los Angeles (we met about a year and a half ago at a conference. This guy has written movies that you can find at Blockbuster with A list talent attached). He said he had a "harebrained notion" that he wanted to float past me and what was my phone number and a good time to call me. Too excited to breathe, I called my husband after the movie, totally stoked. He said "Don’t get your hopes up too high. What if he just wants you to proof something for him"? Fair play, but the man lives in L.A., meaning he could swing a well-fed tabby and hit ten writers more talented/more experienced/ better connected than me. Still, we practiced my "poker voice"- where I try not to sound too disappointed in whatever he told me that wasn't nearly as cool as I'd built it up in my mind.

Naturally, I wrote Mr. Mentor back with my phone number and an open invite to call anytime (well, anytime between 0530 and 2300). He hasn’t called me yet and I’m too excited to sleep. He may very well want me to proof something for him. But he may also want me to meet his/an agent or work with him on a project. If this leads to legitimate Hollywood work, I will flip the hell out.

So this Sunday night finds me anxiously awaiting word about my drug dealer short, as well as a phone call from the bowels of the belly of the Hollywood beast. This week is going to freaking rock!!

just a little on the top

Kuddos! Huzzah! Break down the cardboard box and do a head spin! We did it, kiddies! Yes, yesterday was officially a better day than Wednesday. I'm chalking it up to Wednesday Blues. That's akin to the ol' "Case of the Mondays", if you didn't know...I'm going in for a hair appointment this morning. That's right, gotta get the braids back. No particular reason- I'm just sick of messing with my insubordinate hair. It's starting to act up again, so we're going to braid it into submission. Take that (or should I say "take plat"?), nappy fro! It's five+ hours in a chair listening to generic R&B while people opine about everything from the economy to Keyshia Cole's latest hair color, but I count it well worth it.

Remember when I told you I sent off the drug dealer short? I still haven't heard anything and now I'm getting nervous. What if it's too dark? I think it's funny, but what if it isn't L.A. funny? Now, before you call me a ninny, let me say that I'm well aware that I'm being ninnified and should cut the producers some slack. After all, yesterday was Friday and I'm sure they're doing other things besides sitting around and waiting for my next three page masterpiece to arrive in their inbox. Either way, I'll keep you posted on the goings-ons.

Yesterday, between the hours of 2-4pm, was spent writing like a fiend. I've started a new romantic comedy (I know, since the first one sold for six figures, right?) about a woman who meets a guy who is too good to be true. I'm taking a new approach to this work. Usually, I get an idea, sit down at the keyboard and go to town. This time, I'm writing out a synopsis- a road map -for what is supposed to happen and why. I think this will cut down on the glaring plot problems that some of my work seems to encounter.

So that's where this morning finds me. Where does the morning find you? Anything interesting? C'mon! I can't be a ninny by myself....

good day, damn it

I don't know about yours, but my yesterday was one of those days when I wished I would get struck by lightening just to break up the monotony. I think it's a combination of the pain meds (and coming off of them), my tired/aching body and a myriad of other things that had me down. But today is going to be a good day. Oh yes. I stayed in bed an hour later than usual, had sex for the first time in weeks (Percoset is the opposite of Spanish Fly, lemme tell ya) and am taking my computer to work so I can work on my writing.

Yesterday wasn't all tears and frustration, though. I received an email from the Development Director of the company that produced "Suburban Psycho" with an open invitation to directly send her any more shorts that I had. "Surburban Psycho is a great example to follow", she said. Woo to the hoo! Needless to say, I sent her my girl scout-cum-drug dealer short. Hopefully, she'll see the humor and produce that one, too. If not, oh well.

Speaking of that short, I sent it to my sister three days ago and she still hasn't read it. It makes me angry because I help her with her assignments, but she can't find the time to read my three pages?! Whatever. If she doesn't care for my writing, then she should say so. I won't send her work to critique anymore. I value her opinion because she inherently looks for different things in movies than my other friends. She is Jane Q. Public.

Another friend of mine gave feedback on my Manilow-driven masterpiece yesterday. Some of it was valid; I did have people appearing and reappearing like the ghost of Christmas past without mention of their entrance and/or exit. The other stuff, well, I didn't even bother to listen to. She's helpful, if not a little ham-fisted and mean sometimes.

Can't wait to hear from the Development Director about my short! Today is going to be a good day, even if I have engineer it so.

feedback

While laid up, I received feedback from a local playwriting contest. One word: ouch. Three readers read the play and one common theme was the dialogue was over-written and the play moved too fast for what was supposed to be happening in the play. The characters were barely distinctive, the choreography was awkward, scene changes were drastic (and therefore not conducive to production in a small, black box theatre) and the ending was wholly inappropriate. Keep in mind that this was my first foray into the world of the full-length play, so I was expecting to be skewered. I did feel proud of myself, though, in that I didn't retreat into my sad place while reading the feedback. Although I cannot take all the credit; Percoset is a hell of an emotional cushion.

Speaking of the white devils (Percoset, not the judges), I've kicked them to the curb! I'm actually writing this from my home office- sitting upright, thank you very much -just before I prep a couple of submissions. I'm still not able to bend so much, but seeing how three days ago, I was almost completely immobilized, this has been one giant leap for mankind indeed.

A couple of contests I entered are announcing their winners via their website today, so I'll check the happs and get back with you. Hope your day is as wonderful as mine is shaping up to be.

P.M. Dawn at dawn

Well, kiddies, I survived the surgery and, after spending the last couple of days in a Percoset fog things are starting to look up. I woke up this morning and climbed the stairs by myself, made tea and even had two pancakes. I won't be leaving the house any time soon, but it feels good to be out of the painkiller woods, you know?

Anyway, I've decided that I'm going to the Maui Writer's Conference this year. It's being held on Oahu instead of Maui and if I volunteer, I can attend the conference for free! I have a friend that lives on the island, so I'm only responsible for airfare to Hawaii. I'm excited about this. I just want my friend Elayne to go, too. She's an incredible writer and this opportunity missed for her would be a tragedy.

I'm watching VH1 Soul this morning and P.M. Dawn just came on! P.M. Dawn were a mainstay on my CD player back in the day. Them and Natural Selection. This blog is dedicated to my early '90s music heroes who have fallen off the edge of the earth. P.M. Dawn, The KLF, Natural Selection, Cathy Dennis. You are missed.

why i write

During the writer's strike, some WGA members wrote touching pieces about why they write. I've used this as a prompt and written my own. There are several reasons why I write. Many of them have to do with the characters inside of me, but I also write to answer lingering questions. Anyway, below is the first of many reasons why I write:

By the time I wake up in the morning, the voices have already started. By the time I’m in the shower, the voices have dressed, brushed their teeth and are having coffee wearing my bathrobe- my freaking bathrobe! -downstairs. They start out nattering to one other with me as casual voyeur. Soon they’ve turned and they’re screeching, yelling, demanding of me to tell their stories. Tell them right, tell them complete and tell them now. So I sit at my computer and I transcribe their loves, fears, disappointments and shames the best I can. I transcribe because I owe it to tell the stories they cannot tell for themselves. Because they are me and, if for only a moment, I was them. And, of course, because I want my bathrobe back.

guess what came in the mail?

(a scale and some Arm and Hammer...)

My DVD! Yes, Suburban Psycho arrived today and I have watched it almost to death. Still, I can't foresee the viewings getting old. In fact, it just keeps getting better and better in my eyes. This is my baby- come to life. This must be what expectant mothers think when they see the ultrasound for the first time.

The movie is actually a movie. I was telling one of my friends that earlier and she said "Of course it is. What did you think it was going to be?" Truthfully, I didn't know what to expect, so I kept expecting a third rate, bare stage production where the main character and the boom mike jockey for screen time. But, it's not. It's directed with makeup and music and credits and everything! Now that I've watched it uptisquat times, though, hearing my voice coming through these characters seems weird. I realized that the words that I'd written were written specifically for my inflection and my sense of humor. The actors and the director made it so much darker than I'd expected. This isn't a complaint; just an observation.

My son is playing the wretched Wii right now, but as soon as he goes to bed, I'm so watching my DVD again. Life is good today.

inspiration strikes!

Opening scene: a typical American office. DELAFANTASTIKA, 30ish, sly and beautiful, reads her email.

DELAFANTASTIKA: (reading to herself) "The OldTowne Players is presenting the original one-act play by renowned local playwright Dick Cheese McGuinness". Hmm. The Old Towne Players are the same sucker MCs who were happy to accept my help backstage for two years, all the while showing no interest at all in my literary works. I hate them. I hate their mothers. Should I call the office and leave a nasty voice mail?

Lightning bolt of inspiration from the heavens.

DELAFANTASTIKA: I know what I'll do! If I can't beat them, I'll mock the shit out of them.

Curtain

And thus my newest dramatic undertaking was born. I outlined it this afternoon and aim to finish Act One by the end of the weekend. It'll be shoehorned between birthday parties and the new Martin Lawrence movie, but it'll get done. I also finished the treatment for a baby sitcom idea I've been kicking around. I'm telling you, creativity was simply oozing from my pore holes. I cannot wait until the day when my shows and movies are on the little and the big screen. How awesome would it be to get up in the morning and know that your only job is to entertain the masses?

Suburban Part Deux

Ya'll, I am STILL on a high from the production of my movie. It's funny- I'm so used to talking about what's going on with my "script" that it's taking effort to change the language from "script" to "production". Nothing I'd ever written has gotten this far. Anyway, I received an email back from the Director of Development and she said that the company is holding a screening of several shorts next month on Wilshire Blvd in Los Angeles and she'd let me know if my piece made it in. Woo-hoo! I can't wait! 2008 is shaping up to be my year.

Last night, I had bratwurst for dinner so needless to say, I woke this morning with the urgent need to relieve my colon. After relieving the ol' sigmoid, it was only 5:30am, so I got up and did housework which culminated in making dinner for tonight. Tonight's delectable offering is sloppy joes. Picture it: me standing over a hot stove when my ungrateful seven year old comes downstairs and starts talking about how he doesn't like beef and "how come we have to eat everything you like and nothing I like"? I wanted to kick his ass for lying. He INHALES sloppy joes! That's the only reason I'm making this bullshit. If it were up to me, we'd spinach and salmon and scallops and kippers.

Another point about him- it seems like every time I sit down to write, he comes up with some idiotic reason for me to pause and help him with something. He also makes comments like "why don't you stop writing?", "why don't you give up writing?" or my personal favorite, "are you gonna write forever?!" See, he thinks I should spend every spare moment I have catering to him and it offends his sensibilities that I would do anything else. Newsflash, buddy: I will write forever. Now when he comes around while I'm writing, it inspires me. I WANT to write more. Whether or not he intends it to be, it's a battle that I intend to win.