The Writing on the Wall

Blog soundtrack:



(This song gives me goose bumps. How about you? Someday I want to sing it for karaoke; karaoke is like sky diving for me, one of those things I have never done but have always wanted to do. Okay, I don’t ever want to sky dive. Sky diving is just something that strongly appeals to my Sense of Adventure; however, my whole entire body, including my brain sans the Sense of Adventure portion, would never even consider it, even if I had a few glasses of wine and someone promised me a convertible!)

When on my way to pick up Iz today from her after school program, I passed a local church. It spoke to me; churches always speak to me whether it be through their architecture or through
their little billboards announcing Sunday Sermons Yet to Come.

When these churches talk, I usually listen. Today, unlike most days, I talked back. When I drove by this sign, I said, “Don’t we all know it.”

I had gotten particularly frustrated over one potential writing gig. After getting some new information, I had to ask myself, “Is this worth it?” Would it be easier to find a new career, given what I had to go through to maybe be considered for a job that really only may be a potential job, if funding is approved, which is a decision that maybe decided in the next few months? I had to ask myself this question today. And, I’m still trying to understand my question and come to a decision!

I told a friend about my frustration. His response had me generating an alternate title for this blog. It was “Having a Chance to Tell Them Where to Stick It.” Yeah, it was a bit harsh, so that’s why I didn’t use it; however, that doesn’t mean I couldn’t tell you what I was really thinking!

One thing he said, which is nothing friends haven’t said to me before was “Make a go of your writing.” He has a day job, though he is working very hard on iPhone apps in hope of being able to bin his boring day job. It’s not that he wants to make a million dollars; I think it’s just that he would love to get paid to do something he loves. I know. Wouldn’t we all?

Though, I’ve heard it before and I’ve said it to myself a million times, today, I really heard “Make a go of your writing.” I guess this blog was the beginning of an effort to do so, and some days, I read back on my posts, and I think, “I love my blog.” It’s been an effort; and, you might say it’s been a labor of love.

So, I decided that today is the first day of the rest of my writing career. For the last 10 years, I’ve thought about three writing projects that I could undertake. They are all nothing right now, but I want to make one of them something in the next year.

1. I mentioned in another blog, I attempted to take a screenwriting course. And, I do admit to owning Screenwriting for Dummies, which masqueraded as “Taking Down the Xmas Tree for Dummies” in a prior blog. I’ve made it through the first three chapters. I would like to write a screenplay and submit that screenplay to the Nantucket Film Festival.
   
   Okay, I’m too late for this year. And, I’ve thought about this for several years, so I’m really late by many years. But, next year, I’d like to have something to submit. I thought about an idea; it involved all my girlfriends. I want to call it “Prettier Girls.”
   
   When I last got together with the Lovelies, someone said something, and I dashed to my purse, grabbed my notebook and my pen, sat back down on the couch, and I started to scribble. Someone, I think it was Cathy, said, “Oh, and you’re writing this down?!” Yes. All my friends get curious and paranoid when I pull out my notebook.
   
   I told them about my aspirations. I don’t want ‘Prettier Girls” to be a “Steel Magnolias” or a “Now and Then.” It would be a compilation of all the girlfriends in my life. Though, it was fun asking all the Lovelies who they’d chose to play them if they were portrayed in a movie.
   
   Cathy kept insisting on Bob Newhart, but by the end of the evening, I think we decided on Julianna Margulies; in most of Julianna's roles, she exudes intelligence, compassion, guts, and beauty. That’s you, Cathleen. (While I love Bob Newhart, he is not you!) Marcia, Goddess of Knowing Herself Well and Being So Very True to Herself, which I envy, had the most intriguing choice of all; she decided that she wanted an African American woman to portray her, Halle Berry to be exact. Laura wanted Ellen Degeneres or Lisa Kudrow. Anne wanted Sandra Bullock. I deemed Melissa to be Laura Linney, but then a day or two later she left me a voicemail that only asked, “Can I be Keri Russell instead?” I was told that I should be Jenna Elfman or Drew Barrymore, though I did vote for Meg Ryan before the bad plastic surgery.
   
   Later in the evening, I glanced down at my notebook and saw the following scrawled on one of its pages: “Jean smells like cat butt.” It reminded me of my quest to see (or trying to see as it happened) the big lipstick at Yale. I was driving home, and I had Nathan writing notes in my notebook for me while I was driving. Upon return, I read my notes and came upon “My mother is a dingleberry.” Ah, I love my son, I love my friends; and I know they love me. How lucky am I?
   
   
2. Nathan’s great great Aunt (maybe it’s one more great) was a wonderful and noted writer. I have read many of her books, but one I particularly loved was “The Homemaker.” The story, written in 1924, was way ahead of its time. I’d like to write a screenplay and pitch it to the Hallmark Hall of Fame.
   
   
3. The last task would be to take many of my stories and combine them into a book and try to get them published. Many of my friends have suggested this, and I know among them, Melissa has been the most vocal.

Tomorrow, I will start at #3 and work backwards. I was always one to follow the rules and order, but at this point in my life, I say, “Forget it!” Instead of wallowing in “Lack of Technical Writing Joblessness,” I will wallow in “Potential Writing Greatness.”

I have seen the writing on the wall. I have seen the writing in my notebook. I will always get by with a lot of love and support from my friends, even if I’m a dingleberry and I smell like cat butt. ♥