Name of the Game OR What You Want And How to Get It

While I'm still in the revision process of several of my scripts, and therefore taking a break from posting them here, I'm going to continue on this tangent I've had for the past little while: actual blogging. This one isn't a rant, or a celebrity slam bio, just thoughts that have been in my mind for quite a while. And need to get out in the open. And hopefully, these rambling thoughts will make sense, somehow.

Last year, I posted something that basically says that everything happens at the right time for the right reason. As that was a year ago, some of the things I say here may be repeats, and for that I apologize to anybody who reads some of these things twice. Or maybe you need to hear it twice. Whatever.

Wherever I go, I hear people saying things like "I want (item A) and after (item B) happens, then I'll get it." And that's it. They wait for something to happen which will lead to something else, and then everything will work out. But that's not how life works. Even in the movies.

People want things; I get that. And maybe it's not a publishing contract, or an athletic scholarship or college degree. It can be simpler than that--the wish, I mean, the thing someone wants. Example: "what? what's wrong with the job market? or the professor? or this person? or the school?" etc. You've all been there. And those questions are always there. Endlessly.  And all I could think about was this: "I know what I want. I'll get it when it's time."

Faith, you see? Having a knowledge of something that is not seen, that is true.  As a proud member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, this was taught to me from a very early age. I know I have a loving Father in Heaven who wants me to be happy. Knowing this, I am happy. But there are still things I want. Good things. And part of me was still at a loss of how exactly to get it.

In spite of my faith, this question really used to bother me. Why didn't I have the things that I wanted? How long would I have to wait for them? Was I doing something wrong--deliberately or otherwise--that was stopping me from achieving the good things I wanted? I still get asked that question at least once at every family gathering, but it doesn't bother me as much. I still think about it, but it doesn't make me as sad as it used to, because over the past little while I have learned several important lessons. And these are the things that have been stuck in my head a need to come out. So here goes:

In May, I finished twelve years at a local elementary school as a Drama Coach. While the night was full of both euphoria and tears, I got to thinking. All my life I had wanted to do something like this. I had started directing shows in my backyard as a teenager, but when I started college I couldn't do that anymore--for a very good reason. But I still wanted to direct. When I finally landed a job as the Drama Coach at this school, the program was--not to put to fine a point on it--a mess. No costumes, not sets, no props, not publicity, not meeting times, and no performance space. Fantastic. I spent the first month totally freaking out, and I don't need to say that our first two performances would win an Academy Award for Biggest Mess(or whatever equivalent you want to stick here, if you've got a better one).

It only got better once I lost my car. I say lost, but maybe I should say I lost access to a car. Because I moved, and had to use my bus pass instead--and walk. Which added two hours to my trip job that I didn't get paid for. But I kept at it. I cut down the plays. I adapted some of them. I made posters, I held auditions, made copies, spent more time on the phone and emailing than I ever had before. I walked to and from work and the bus stop, two days a week, in rain, in snow, in the heat. I set up meetings with the After School Coordinator, the principal, and the other teachers who had the space I ended up getting--the cafeteria--so that we could all coordinate use of the space accordingly(and we only had minor mishaps after that). There were days I was so tired all I wanted to do was curl up in bed and sleep--but I had homework to do on top of that. But there were also days I was on a euphoric high, because my program was working.  All my hard work, and groveling, and tears, a sweat, and prayers paid off. Our final production was thirty students, and we performed in a university theatre space. My lesson: hard work pays off. Work--kill yourself if you have to--to get what you want.

This past summer I attended the Hill Cumorah Pageant. This experience was truly the most incredible thing that could ever happen to me. Where else did I know of--other than the Temple--that I could feel the Spirit literally twenty-four hours a day?

I met two people there who have become my heroes(and part of me selfishly hopes they read this, because it's hard enough to say this to their faces. Here goes). Both of them are two of the most spiritual, humble, kind men I have ever met. Both  taught me things I don't think I would have learned otherwise.

The first I met at the airport. It was his second year, and he was from Vermont, played Rugby and was going to serve his mission in Salt Lake City(near where I live).  I didn't see him every day, but I got to know him well enough. He told me he had needed to change and how coming to the Pageant had helped him do it. He also told me he'd been injured in a Rugby accident and still felt it sometimes. Now, I didn't know him before, but I could see what kind of person he had become. I have no idea what specific trials he had to go though, but he had been willing to go though them. He was happier for it.

I found myself watching him in his rehearsals when I happened to be in the same area--not as a stalker or anything, but observing. He was playing a Battleman, which meant a lot of jumping and leaping(there is a difference, trust me), and waving a three pound sword around. With a knee and ankle injury, that hurts. But as I watched him, he didn't seem to have any trouble with it. He told me later that while he was performing and while he was rehearsing, he wasn't in pain. Some people would say that this was because he was constantly using it, so of course his body felt nothing. But I don't think so. What he wanted was good, and he knew how to get it. The lesson he taught me was be willing. Willing to listen, willing to grow, willing to take risks, to change whatever aspects of  your life need to be changed. No matter how hard it is, no matter what circumstances you happen to be in, be willing to do whatever it takes to achieve what you want. And if it's a good thing, you'll get it.

The second guy I didn't meet until I was actually at the Pageant. Ok, that's not true. He added me on Facebook like two months before, but that's not important. I don't know what I was, but every time I looked at him, I could see his self confidence and his humility in perfect balance. He spoke to everyone--really spoke not just a "hi, how are you" but he took time to get to know the people he was around. He's a life coach so I guess that part of him is a given.

One of the places we went during Pageant was the Sacred Grove--which is the most beautiful place I have ever been. I didn't talk much while I was in there, because of the amazing Spirit. But when this guy and I did talk on our way out, be said something that stuck in my head. I was teasing him about something--can't remember exactly what--and he said "that's not the point. The point is to re-evaluate who we really are. To re-center our lives to where they(our lives) are supposed to be." That stuck with me. For the rest of the trip. And it's still with me. What he was talking about in a spiritual sense also applies in a secular sense. He lived what he taught. His lesson: he knew who he was and where his life was supposed to be centered.  I could tell he believed that with all his heart and he encouraged others to do the same. And now that he knew that, he could get what he wanted.

So, lessons I have learned, to sum up:

1.Work your tail off; what you want won't happen if you don't work for it.
2. Be willing to do whatever it takes; even hard things can get you want you want
3. Know who you are; this way you can get where you need to go to get what you want.

Anything you want that is good, you will get. But you need to be able to hold up your end of the bargain.

Lucille Ball--Queen of the B's. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!

Happy birthday to gorgeous Lucille Ball!!!

Name of the Game OR Kidstuff...And Why I Write It

Ok. So usually, I am not this kind of a blogger. I do have posts on here that are musings, or rants or opinions, but the real reason I set this whole thing up is to have somewhere to put my writing...just in case I lost it. Nothing on here is totally polished, just the first fully revised drafts. But it works. And now that I am in the process of revising several scripts and submitting others(and have had at least one produced! see review here), I have been thinking about my writing in general, and why I write what I do. So here goes:

All my life I have had this weird craving for adrenaline rushes. Which is ironic sometimes because I can be the world's biggest chicken. I was scared of the dark until I was thirteen, and still refuse to put my head under water when swimming due to an incident in the local pool when I was six--and I hate getting water up my nose or anywhere else it doesn't belong. But I digress. When I was little, my grandfather would show us movies.  Usually, he would show us old Hollywood stuff like The King and I and The Sound of Music(hence the reason why I have such an obsession with Silver Screen Hollywood, I suppose). But on one of those occasions, he showed me The Princess Bride. I know, I know, everybody's seen it; it's a classic. I was too young to get some of the jokes and other things that were in there, and I don't think I quite understood the plot, but I did enjoy the fencing matches. More than enjoyed them--they were the only thing I remembered, apart from the giant eel and the big rat thing(I know, I know ROUSes, but gimme I break I was six--or maybe seven, anyway---). I did hide under the blankets and cover my eyes when those things happened, and yes I did hide during the freaky bits in Never Ending Story. As a kid, I was chicken, I will openly admit that(I still am, sometimes).

Movies have always had a great effect on me and my writing. I write what I love, and that usually ties in to the types of movies I happen to be watching. I was raised on Disney. Most of my childhood movie watching experiences include Peter Pan, Fox and the Hound, Great Mouse Detective, and Beauty and the Beast. Pattern? They were all exciting. Peter Pan had sword fights, flying and the bomb; Beauty and the Beast  had that epic fight on the tower between Gaston and the Beast; Fox and the Hound had the bear confrontation, etc. Since I was watching kid stuff, I wrote kid stuff. I wrote about pioneer girls doing pioneer things and happy endings and stuff like that. Typical little girls stuff.

My writing took on another facet when I was introduced to Romeo and Juliet at the age of seven. And while I did go around crying "Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo" all the time, I also started putting death into my stories. I wrote one where every single character died for no reason other than I wanted a death. I wrote several "kid tragedies" that I never want to see again during that phase of my writing "career". I also found out that critcs tend to latch on to the cornyness of anything that is in a story. I'm sorry, but sometimes corny works! I'm sidetracking again. Moving on....

When I was ten, my dad got tickets for him, my sister, and I to go see West Side Story at Sundance. My grandfather, of course, owned the movie and decided it was a good idea for my sister and I to watch it so we understood what was going on(he did the same thing with Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, but that's for later). I remember two things about my experience with that movie:
               
     1. I was very upset that every single good looking man in the movie died and all the ugly ones
         (with a couple of exceptions) did not.
   
     2. My physical and mental reaction to the rumble scene.

Those who know me already understand the fact that I am a hopeless romantic freak who falls for every male celebrity with a centimeter of stereotypical aesthetic attractiveness, and/or charisma, so number 1 is a no brainer.  Number 2, though....well, watch this:

Two clips, one on stage one from the movie; one professional, one form high school, but now that you've got the visual...here we go. So I get really into movies--like scary into them. And I was already invested in those when the rumble started. So when the knives came out, I started trembling, and then shaking. My pulse picked up, my heart was banging against my ribs, and my insides felt like they were being twisted around the tines of a fork(corny, I know, but roll with me on this). I wanted to watch it again, because of the way it made me feel. Good storytelling ties into people's emotions. And brother, if this scene didn't grab my emotions I don't know what did.

After that experience, I craved those adrenaline rushes. I love the sensation I get during a thriller or a noir, or and action/adventure--from my pulse picking up to the point where I can breathe. I wanted nothing more than to experience that as a writer. So that I what I tried to write. For the next six or seven years I subjected my poor characters to violence, fear, blood and...well, you get the idea. I was great for helping me control my temper too. Anytime someone made me mad, I would turn them into a character, locked them in a room, or put a weapon in his hand(usually it was a "he"), and unleash my writer's wrath on him. For pages. (Yes, I can be bloodthirsty, don't make me mad, get over it.)

But I noticed that while I was getting these rushes, it was only when I was writing. I didn't feel happy afterwards. I felt dark and depressed--which is not something a writer should be feeling. But I didn't know what to do. I didn't want to stay darkside, but I wanted to write and get that same feeling every time I wrote.

When I couldn't stand it anymore I took a mini writing break. I took all my dark stuff and threw it away. I shredded some of the awful stuff I had written, and went back to my first love: Disney and kid capers. Those were calm, and made me feel happy. But I missed my adrenaline rushes.

About a year ago, I got introduced to Goonies and Dead End/East Side Kids/Bowery Boys(see previous posts--all them--it's bad how obsessed it get!). There was still excitement, still danger, still occasional violence, but it also had kids. And I love kids. So I thought "hey, I should try putting the two together and see how it meshes in my head." You know what? IT TOTALLY DOES!!!! And the best part is that it's ok to be corny in the process. I can be funny and corny and appeal to a general audience and get my writer's adrenaline rush without going darkside. And you know what? It feels SO GOOD!!!!!

You can see my drafts of my "kid caper/noir series" here.