The Page One Re-Type

Many of you have heard of the "Page One Rewrite."  I became familiar with the term as a guy working in development for a management/production company.  Managers and Execs would give their notes and when something seemed like it needed a total revamp, they would say:

"Maybe this needs a page one rewrite."

I think most writers hate to hear that phrase.  It means that all of the hard work they've spent for months working on this script is for naught.  At least, that's what it seems like.  This Page One Rewrite is a reconception.  A reimagining.  It means you need to reconsider the whole premise of what you've written.  You can't just rewrite a scene or some lines.  You have to re-do the whole thing.

I'm a fan of a page one rewrite myself, especially when the notes are too extensive for me to just take apart the script.  Rewriting the whole thing feels like a fresh start.  I know I might be in the minority here.

But there's something else I like to do when I need to get back in the headspace of a script. Or when I need to do a polish and I want to check to see if the script still feels right.  It also helps me check for consistency.

The Page One Re-Type

Yes, it means that I'm retyping my whole script.  It's energizing.  It's also mechanical and tedious.  But sometimes the repetition of retyping a script over again, gives it new energy.  It also makes me consider what I've written and what I think I've liked on a deeper level.  The visceral action of typing an entire script again just integrates your mind, body and creativity (or soul) around this script.

I was talking to my friend Susan last week and she had said a friend of hers suggested doing the same thing.  I don't know if she called it a Page One Re-Type.  I'd like to think that I coined the phrase.   Aside from getting the juices flowing and making you feel like you're doing something when you're having a hard time getting started, it's a great way to start a rewrite.

It's like running.  I love running.  I'm a marathoner.  I love the routine of running.  But sometimes it's hard to get out there.  So instead of thinking about running or how I should run or how I'll feel better or I'll get healthier or I'll lose weight...

I just need to start moving.

And that's what the Page One Rewrite does.  It literally warms your fingers up.  It gives them something to do.

Then that leads to looking over the words that you made up months, weeks or years ago.  Oh, that's funny.  Look...that wasn't so bad.

Then you start thinking about those words.  Hmmm...maybe this is a better way to say that.  And you start typing.

Maybe that leads to some rewriting.

Then you get STUCK.  It all seemed to flow up until this point.  Why did everything flow, but now it seems like it isn't quite right?

Then you look back at everything you've accomplished.  You've retyped 20 pages or 40 pages or even 80 pages.  That's good.  Most of this is good.  But this stuff up here...

To use the running analogy, you've hit an incline.  You're slowed down, but you just need to push it a bit further until you level off or better yet, start going down hill and gaining momentum.  You're hitting your stride again.  All right, I'm typing away as fast as I can. This feels great!

And then you just run the rest of the race.  Parts of it will feel steep.  Parts of it will feel like a good pace and parts of it will feel like you're flying.

And all you did was retype something you've already written!  But you're still fixing along the way.  It's a much more active thing to do then just look at the script and try to figure out what works and what doesn't.

Yes, it's more labor-intensive.  But you know what?  So is writing.  Get over it.

The Letdown, Part II

It's a lovely, but kind of dreary day in LA.

And I just finished another small rewrite of a play I submitted for this year's O'Neill National Playwrights Conference.  As you might remember from last week's blog post called "The Letdown", it's depressing when I finish a project.

I get sad.
I feel like I haven't accomplished anything.
I don't know where to put my energy.

Of course, the best thing to do is start on the next project.  Although, since I have used the birth analogy to describe the act of creation and this let down as a sort of postpartum depression, I don't know if you would say to someone who was depressed after giving birth,

"You should just work on your next one.  That'll get you out of your funk!"

So it's a flawed analogy.  Apologies.  Moving on.

But here I am again, having given birth (or re-birth) to my second (zombie) child in two weeks.  Part of me feels like I'm on a roll:

Two projects in two weeks.  
All right!  
Let's keep going!  
Your creative juices are flowing!  
The muscles are warm!

But then, of course, right behind are the negative voices:

How much energy do you have left?
You spent all of it working on these two projects.
It was a lot of work!
Maybe you need a break.
Don't you want to go outside?

Yes, I realize that the negative voices don't sound all that negative.  But that's how they're sneaky.  Because the subtext is that you can't keep going.  It's not coming from a Place of Yes or a Place of Abundance.  It's coming from a place of lack.  Like there's only a finite amount of creativity you're allowed at one given time.  These are the voices that it's hard to keep at bay because they aren't the extreme negative voices:

You're not talented.
You don't have good ideas.
You suck.
You don't deserve this!
Who do you think you are?

But they are just the Ivy League educated cousins of those extreme voices.  They're more clever and more insidious.  They know how to make bad stuff sound not so bad.  But they're still bad.  Bad is bad.  Crime is crime.  This is just the White Collar version.  The Blue Collar has less tact, but both are still crimes against creativity.

So I'm going to try to not let myself down this week.  I'm going to listen to my inner Pollyanna cheerleader.


Two projects in two weeks.  
All right!  
Let's keep going!  
Your creative juices are flowing!  
The muscles are warm!
You're amazing!
Wow, what an idea machine!
You're nice and loose, right in the pocket.

Yes, this is my inner Stuart Smiley as well as my inner Pollyanna cheerleader.  But sometimes I need Stuart to let me know that I've got to keep this train moving.  There's more to do.

In the Line of Fire

I am a part of a community of writers out here in LA.  I have friends who are playwrights, TV writers, screenwriters, poets, journalists, and memoirists.  All really frickin' talented.  And we regularly put our work up for people to see and to give us feedback on.  As playwrights, we have that wonderful learning tool known as the reading.

The reading of a new play is our opportunity hear what has been inside our heads for months or years, even.  I remember having a conversation years ago with a very successful TV writer who was hearing the first play he had ever written read out loud.  The funny thing was that he had written this play as a writing sample, but he wasn't a playwright and he had never heard it out loud before.  But by this time, he was probably a Supervising Producer...all on the strength of the writing of that play.  But he wanted to see about getting it produced.  So we did a table read.

He turned to me and said, "I can't believe you do this all of the time as a playwright. I get nervous when we do a table read of a TV script I've written."  That struck me as incredibly odd at the time.  Here was a rich, successful TV writer who hadn't been in the regular practice of hearing his work read out loud.  As a playwright, that is par for the course.  It's a job requirement--to sit through 90 minutes to two hours of a play in process being read out loud by actors you may or may not be too familiar with.  And then to endure a "talk back", where audience members who may or may not be friends tell you what they think of your play.

Last night, I went to a play reading for my friend Larry.  Larry and I have dubbed ourselves "wingmen" for the other. We are there to support each other in our writing and make sure that the other is working.  We aren't writing partners because  neither of us wants that from each other.  But we're there to make sure the other one is constantly putting himself out there with extra guidance and support.  So as Larry's wingman, I wanted to support him in this reading of a play he's been rewriting for about a year.  I couldn't make it to the two previous readings of this play and admittedly, I had some guilt about that since Larry's been a good wingman to me.

I show up to the theatre where the reading is taking place.  I get there about 7 minutes late because traffic was crap and parking in Los Feliz is nutty.  By the time I actually make it to the theatre, the reading was just starting.  I get to the "box office", which is just a cute guy standing trying to get people to make a "suggested donation."  Okay, here's my thing about paying for readings...

I just don't get it.  I'm a part of a group that does an annual festival of new play readings and we charge $5 bucks to cover the cost of the theatre and snacks that are complementary regardless of whether or not you pay the $5 bucks.  Okay, I'm fine with that.  But this theatre was suggesting levels (yes, I said levels) of admission of $15, $20 or $25 and they even had a credit card reader just in case you said, "I don't have any cash on me."  Aside from feeling ripped off if I have to pay $15 for something with no production values and that's basically a tool to workshop a new play, I think it sets up an unfair expectation.  I just paid $15 for something that better be fucking good and polished.  But by its very nature, it's not.  That's not the point.  Larry's just working on his play and needs the time to figure things out without the pressure that he's got paying customers coming to see his work.  I didn't pay.  Not because I'm cheap, but because I didn't want to set an unfair expectation on this work.

I sit down and I'm watching the reading.  The acting is great.  Larry's a great writer, so its clever and witty.  I have structural and character questions, but the process of rewriting is testing out new ideas and seeing what works.  The reading is about 80 minutes, which is a good length.

Then we get a questionnaire.  Larry decided that he wanted to get people's responses to questions that were unaffected by a group discussion.  I respect that.  He wanted folks to write down what they thought and to not be influenced by someone else's opinion.  The questions were pretty straightforward:

• Which character(s) did you respond to?
• What questions did you have?
• Is there a point where you fell out of the play or it stopped grabbing your attention?

So we get a few minutes to answer the questionnaire and then the moderator starts asking for us to turn them in.  I'm not done yet, so I keep writing.  I thought we would hand in the questionnaires and go, in lieu of doing a group discussion.  But then the group discussion began.  Oy.

Here's where I expose my bias to talk backs.  If I had my druthers, I would just give people my email address, tell them what I'm looking for feedback on and call it a night.  I don't like sitting up there, listening to people pick apart my play while it's still fresh and tell me about the play that they would write if they had the idea for the play that I wrote.  It's exhausting!  And sometimes it's unnecessary.  

Also, I like structure.  So if I have to do a talk back, then I like to have a set of questions prepared that I ask the audience.  I'm not a fan of writers who just say, "Oh, just give me your general thoughts."  Because then I'm going to talk about your actress' hair.  Or I'm going to talk about the tiniest pet peeves that really have nothing to do with reconstructing your play.  

I also need a moderator who's there to protect me.  I had a reading a couple of months ago on a play that was totally overwritten.  I didn't prepare any questions because the moderator had a set of questions he wanted to ask as a part of the process:

• What's the story of your play?
• What's your play about?

Two questions.  Which we answered in the first fifteen minutes of our discussion.  That would have been perfect for me.  Fifteen minutes in and done!  But no!  Then he opened it up for other questions.  Wait!  Hold up!  I'm not prepared...oh, shit.  Here we go.  And then I felt like he didn't have my back.  Because now I was being opened up to critiques that I didn't feel were helpful to the process as I understood it.  I thought this reading was about articulating the story and the meaning of my play.  And now I have someone telling me that my play made them frustrated. Then we started talking about certain racial overtones and "the other" and on and on and on.  All good stuff, mind you.  But I felt like I was standing under an avalanche.

The moderator for Larry's reading didn't protect him either in my opinion.  It kind of was a free for all.  And if the point was to get people's reactions in a pure form, this discussion disrupted all of that--even though he still had those questionnaires.

I also felt like the moderator didn't do a great job at explaining what the process was.  He just launched into the question portion without giving us a context for the reading.  It would have been helpful to know what Larry was addressing in this reading. It would have been helpful to know that the reading was the culmination of a year long development process where Larry had to pitch a new play to his writing group then write the play that came out of the pitching process.

Why the fuck are we pitching plays in the theatre?  First of all, no one in the theatre has the same sort of pitching skills that folks have in Hollywood.  There are plays that are written that are unpitchable.  At least not pitchable in the same way that Hollywood blockbusters are pitchable.  It seems like a really dumb, ill-informed, misguided way to develop a play.  Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!

Anyhoo...

It would have been helpful to know that in three weeks, Larry was having another reading of this play that would be a part of this process.  But none of that was discussed, so all I got from the context of the discussion was that people have heard this play before and their notes were not addressed and they were going to make sure that they brought up that "last time I heard this play, I had the same questions."  Irrelevant.  Especially now knowing what his process was.  Because then Larry had to say, I chose not to deal with that in this reading.  And out of context, it sounds like, "I'm not listening to you" or "I'm not taking that note."  So I felt the lack of structure really created a disadvantage for Larry.

It's hard to sit there and take notes.  It's tempting to speak up and explain everything.  There was even an audience member who then said, "I'd like to hear from Larry about what he intended..."  At which point, the moderator should have said, "No!" or told Larry not to feel any pressure to respond.

Everything I learned about the way I like to hear notes and give notes came from the great theatre educator, Gary Garrison, a guy I worked for and took classes from when I was at NYU.  The whole theatre universe knows Gary.  He's an amazing guy and he's amazing that nurturing writers and supporting them.  I was his assistant in graduate school and he taught me how to run discussions because sometimes I had to run them when he had a conflict.    His method is one I use now when I teach because I think it's the most respectful to everyone involved.

• The playwright has to have questions.  They can't just say, "Just whatever general impressions you have."
• The playwright has to take notes.
• The playwright can't talk.
• The discussion has to be about what you're seeing and hearing, not about what you wish was there.
• You can't rewrite someone's play for them.
• And it can't just be a blanket negative statement, "That sucks" or "That was not good" or "I didn't like it."  You have to be constructive and support your criticism.

And G would step in and correct you if you weren't following the guidelines.  Everyone had to be engaged in the process.  I think some of these guidelines would have been helpful in the reading I saw over the weekend.  

The first rule every moderator should bear in mind (which is inherent in G's guidelines):

Protect the Playwright.

Come on now, moderators!  Get it together.

Exposing Myself

I've never been someone who believes in leaving something to the imagination.  In my daily life, I like to put it all out there.  I'm the king of TMI.  But it's easier to expose myself through crass statements than it is to expose what I'm really feeling sometimes.

I think I do it in this blog and in other blogs I've written over the years.  I have a friend/acquaintance that told me a couple of years ago that she had read a blog I was actively writing at the time.  "It's really personal," she said, in a somewhat accusatory tone.  And I always say that if it's not personal, what's the point?  In the blog she was referencing (http://iambacktolife.blogspot.com), I was talking about the demise of a relationship I had been in for five years.  At least it started out that way.  Because in the three years since I started writing that blog, my Dad got sick and eventually died, I started teaching, I met my boyfriend and countless other changes happened.

I don't have a problem being confessional.  But when it comes to characters, I have a harder time I think.  I don't know, maybe I'm being too harsh on myself.  But I feel like when I sit down to write a TV script sometimes I'll get so immersed in the mechanics of it all.  I'll think about what people will actually sit down and watch.  I'll think about what types of stories will get me a job.  I think very strategically.  As if there's a formula for all of this success.

As I watch my friends have varying levels of success writing for television, I notice that there isn't one way to get it done.

• I have several friends who were writer's assistants for years and then got their first staff writing jobs.
• I have friends who wrote separately, then decided to team up and then started having great success.
• I have friends who have written successful plays.
• I have friends who gave up and then the success came.
• I have friends who got a phone call to come out to LA to meet with someone on a new show that just got picked up and never left.

It happens so many ways.  If I just get that through my thick head, then maybe I won't be so hard on myself for it not happening yet.  I was listening to Julian Fellowes being interviewed on our local NPR station and he said that if you're good, they'll find you.  I have tons of friends who say that.  But these friends also say that by the time it happened for them, something had shifted in themselves.  Some piece of information that they kept telling themselves, that subconsciously held them back, they stopped believing.  Whether it was not being good enough or not deserving success, there was something they had to let go of.

For me, the process of letting go has been going on in a very self-conscious way for the past three years now.  I have an incredible will when it comes to things, I might have mentioned that in past blogs.  So for me to deprogram a way of negative thinking takes some effort.  But once I believe in something, I'm sticking to it like glue.  That's both a good and bad thing.

I am much better about reaching out and letting people know that I need help.  I'm still guarded in a lot of ways, but I've started letting people know that I don't have everything lined up.  People usually say to me, that I'm doing everything I should be doing, but it's just a matter of time.  I feel if I was doing everything I should be doing, it would feel like I was getting closer.  However, if you'll recall, my tarot reading from over a month ago said that it is close, but I'm convinced that it's not.  And that's why things aren't moving faster.  I'm holding myself back.

And I'm in full agreement on that.  I still think there's more I can give.  I work hard, but I think I need to work more focused.  I have to set a goal.  I'm doing a lot of work without setting a specific goal, so all of that energy dissipates and has no where to go.  It's an ego thing for me to realize that I'm not doing everything right.  It's the ego that keeps me telling people, "I got this."  Well, if I got this, then they don't have to give me the number of the producer they know.  They don't have to give me advice.  They don't have to read my script or put me in touch with their agent.  Because it's taken care of.  But the fact is, it's my ego who doesn't want to appear weak or lost or in need of help.  That's the negative thought I need to let go of:

Needing help doesn't mean that you're not good enough.

It's my ego that wants to portray this strong individual who's got it all together.  It's my ego that's keeping me in a fixed state.  The fact of the matter is that anyone at any point of their career should be progressing and moving forward.  So that just means that you're never where you want to be.  It's important to acknowledge one's accomplishments.  But if you're still hungry, it means that there are still people who can be advisors and mentors and friends who have information to help you achieve your goals.  It's a group effort.  It really does take a village.  And it's good for the soul for us to tap the shared Universal energy and use it.  That involves sharing: sharing information and sharing that you need help.

And I need to share more in my characters and not just think about strategy.  Because strategy without content is...

What is it, really?  It's not entertainment.  It's not story.  It's not sellable.  It's not a script.  It's just a vehicle for selling.  And at that point you're not being creative.  You're just a marketplace with nothing on the shelves.

Don't Over Think It

I'm watching The Voice on DVR right now.  I'm really into this coaching mentality.  I could use a coach!

Something Christina Aguilera said really resonated with me, "Don't over think it."

We have plans.  We have strategies.  But it's probably best not to over think things.

What's the saying?  "We make plans and God laughs."  I believe in preparation.  I believe in putting my best foot forward.  If anything, I'm overprepared and overstudied.

I could stand to let go a little bit when it comes to...everything.  I used to think that if I didn't show up completely prepared and ready to go that it would show I wasn't serious.  But at a certain point, vulnerability is your friend.  The truth is that we all need help and if we don't show someone that they have a place where they can step in and help out--with either advice or actual contacts--then we'll never receive certain gifts we need to help us out along the way.

I also believe that the lessons can come from anywhere.  I just heard something on The Voice during rehearsals for the Battle Rounds.  And that's a lesson.  I read a lot of biographies.  I watch a lot of films and I read up on tons of things.  But I have never been snobby in where my entertainment or information comes from.  I've quoted Bethenny Frankel and the Dalai Lama recently on this blog.  I think both have knowledge to offer.

I have to remind myself to just go for it and don't over analyze.  Just do the work and the rest will follow.

A Place of Yes: Walking Affirmations (for Two), Part Two

Just as a point of reference, I have actually been re-reading Bethenny Frankel's book, A Place of Yes, recently.  I read it a couple of years ago after an interesting transitional year when I broke up with an ex, left a job, started a new one, then put my career on hold for a year to care for my ailing father.  I was teaching at the time and looking for some new plays to buy when Borders was going out of business.  I had been a fan of Bethenny Frankel's and saw the book and decided to check it out.  I read it cover to cover in about a day and a half.  I then lent it to a friend, who was going through some challenging times and then thought she could use it.  She still hasn't read it all the way through.

But yesterday, online, I saw that it was now available as a free e-book, so I decided to download it and revisit it.  The subject of the book came up as we were discussing "The Secret" and the Dalai Lama.  I'm not saying that Frankel's book is on the level of that. But I found some helpful things in the book.  And it was also an example of an ordinary person who had learned some things and offered to share her insights.  Kind of what I'm doing on this blog.  

After Susan and I had our conversation about the Ego, we decided to set forth some intentions for ourselves and share them.  Sharing's an important part of visualizing because it means that you are taking the step of sharing your vision for yourself with someone else.  And it means that you are putting it out into the Universe, where it can be vulnerable and subject to ridicule.  But it can also be subject to lots of support and encouragement as well.  And you just might find that people might be willing to share their own insight just because you shared yours.  We joke around that "sharing is caring."  But it really is.

I wanted to get back to visualizing.  Now that we talked about Ego and Humility, I wanted us to get back on our original intention: visualizing what we want to have happen in the week ahead.  It's Monday, after all, and we should get the week off to a good start.

I Want A Yes in the Room

Susan is pitching a project.  So she has decided that she wants the studio to buy the project in the room. I love this!  

When you pitch a project, the highest vote of confidence is for an executive to buy your project in the room, right after you've pitched it.  And this is also Susan saying that her work is worthy of that.  We should all walk into a room and have that absolute certainty.  

Susan was the person who got me started on all of these visualizations and affirmations.  After our most recent tarot card reading, she suggested that I start visualizing.  The cards had confirmed that.  And a reading I had a year and a half prior also said the same thing.  Visualization would be important for me. Because I'm a person with a very strong will, I understood that.  When I want something to happen, it does.  But when I get in my own way, I stay stuck.  So my will works equally in the opposite direction.  I know this about myself, so now I am making a conscious effort to stay on top of my intentions.  I am a writer, so I understand the power and value of words.  We tell ourselves things all of the time that don't seem negative.  I'm smart enough to avoid (for the most part) the outright negative stuff. But the stuff that's disguised as humility or "not jinxing myself" is harder to sort out.   But once you start making those choices to put forth positive affirmations, then specifics become more important.  Word choice, for example, is paramount.

And YES is one of the strongest words out there.

I nodded and thought about that idea of "a YES in the room."  I mulled it over and supported it.  Then there was a pause in the conversation.  It was my turn.

I Want Everything I'm Applying For to Be a Yes

Susan smiled.

I am applying for jobs, for fellowships, for prizes.  And I want them all to be a YES.  I have friends who make their living and spend their time traveling to work on creative projects that they have been commissioned for.  I have friends who get money to develop new plays.  I have friends who get money to develop new pilots.  I have friends who are in fellowship programs at TV studios and are guided by industry professionals.  I have friends who make their living doing this.  And I am applying for a lot of different play development and TV development opportunities.  

I want them all to come back with a YES.  And now I've said it out loud.  And in print.

It is said that when you want something and put energy behind it, the Universe conspires to help you get it.  

Ben Grimm of the Fantastic Four used to say: "It's Clobberin' Time!"  Well...

"It's Conspirin' Time!"

I want my life to be about writing plays, writing TV, writing blogs, getting paid, getting to travel because of my work, getting to speak to other like-minded people who are influential because of my work and to live an integrated life where my soul and my ambition are united.  

"So..." Susan said, "I want a Yes in the Room..."

"And I want ALL yeses."

We continued our walk...in full support of one another.  And in full consciousness of what we want.

And all of that by 10 AM.  That's a good start to a good week.

A Healthy Ego: Walking Affirmations (for Two), Part One

I've been doing these running affirmations for the past several weeks, some of which I've shared on here.  My friend Susan has been telling me that she walks in my neighborhood in the mornings, but she never calls me!  One morning, two weeks ago, she finally texted me at 7:30 in the morning.  Fortunately, I was awake and needed a kick in the ass to get my day started.  So I got up and ran up to the walking path one block away to meet up with her.  Since then, we've done it twice, the third time being this morning.

A few things about my friendship with Susan:

We've known each other since graduate school at NYU.  I met her on my very first day working as a Graduate Assistant, which meant that I got to go to school on a full ride and in exchange, I worked 20 hours a week in the Dramatic Writing Department.  So, it has been awhile.  And since moving to LA years ago, she has been working her ass off.  Recently, it has really started paying dividends.  But even with that great success, she continues to be a great, generous friend.  She's someone I've confided in about break ups, insecurities, frustrations and about life in general, both inside and outside of the business.  She's been a rock for me.

We have a history of these walks and runs that we do together where we talk about what's we're working on.  We try to move our bodies as we're trying to move our careers forward.  And sometimes, it's just cardio.  But not often.  We usually have a lot to say.

This morning, Susan texted me at about 7:45 AM:

"Walking in twenty minutes."

I woke up at 8:30.  I had a busy week writing my ass off last week for a deadline.  I was playing catch up with friends and with sleep over the weekend.  So I looked at the message and texted her right away:

"Shit!  Bummed I missed this?  Are you still on your walk?"

She messages me right away that she was running late and was heading out now.  I brushed my teeth and headed out the door.  There was Susan, with her hair up, and a headband, I think.  She was ready to move.

"I was thinking about the 'superstar' thing you said the other day..."

I told Susan that a mutual associate of ours had spoken of her very highly last week.  I had met up with this associate and we started chatting about how amazing Susan is.  The mutual friend said she wouldn't mind if I mentioned it to Susan (since she knew I would anyway) and so I did.

"...It's kind of messing with my head."

Susan went on to talk about her ego.  She didn't want to start believing her own hype.  We had gone to a progressive church together yesterday and the speaker talked about placing too much emphasis on accomplishments and believing our own hype.  I found it interesting that this is the same person basically responsible for The Secret.  But along with the power of positive thinking and the Law of Attraction, I think any idea can be misconstrued for its own purposes.  Especially when people are trying to manifest a yacht.

Susan is a humble person.  She's someone who really works to do things for other people.  We both ran programs for the NYU Writers Lab West, an alumni organization for LA-based writers.  We're both invested in community and the idea of helping other people.  While I appreciated my friend's humility, I had some of my own revelations lately and I wasn't shy about sharing.  I said something along the lines of this:

"I get it.  We shouldn't let our ego guide our lives.  But what you're talking about isn't ego.  It's accomplishment.  And sometimes, we're so used to pushing ourselves and feeling like we haven't gotten there yet, that when we do get somewhere, we're afraid to celebrate it.  And we call it ego because we don't want to be thought of as the person who's misguided and full of themselves.  We don't want to be selfish or self-involved or entitled.  We've seen too many people like that who are just full of themselves.

"But you don't want to diminish who you are.  Being a 'superstar' just means that this person sees you as a leading writer.  When you're running a marathon, at some point, a runner will pull ahead of the pack.  And right now that person is you.  You've been saying for years that you see what a Showrunner does, you've looked at the job description and you've realized that you could do that job.  Yet, you're saying you're worried about your ego.  But you know what a Showrunner is--besides an Executive Producer and the boss?  A Showrunner is a leading writer.  A Showrunner is a Superstar Writer.  So, unless you want to be a non-writing EP, you have to be a Superstar Writer first before you get to be a Showrunner."

Susan looks at me and smiles.

"Sorry," I say.  "I just get worked up."

And I do get worked up because I get it.  I have the same attitude.  My tarot cards told me (read by Susan) a month ago that I have success around me.  But I don't feel successful.  Everything is within my reach, but I don't act or feel like everything I want is within my reach.  I feel like a failure.  I feel like I'm not there yet.  The cards said I am there and I just need to see it.  That's why the dance class I took a week and a half ago had such significance for me.  (For reference, it's here: http://creativityinrealtime.blogspot.com/2013/10/im-dancer.html)  I finally saw it.  I finally experienced the feeling of being exactly who I am, in the way that I am, and understanding how beautiful and brilliant I am when I'm doing exactly everything I'm capable of.  And to realize that it's not a once in a blue moon experience.  It's a daily experience.

And that's not ego.  I told Susan that the Dalai Lama says something too:

With the realization of one's own potential and self-confidence in one's ability, one can build a better world.  According to my own experience, self-confidence is very important.  That sort of confidence is not a blind one; it is an awareness of one's own potential.  On that basis, human beings can transform themselves by increasing the good qualities and reducing the negative qualities.

If we examine our mental world, we find there are various mental factors which have both positive and negative aspects.  For instance, we can look at two types which are quite similar: one is self-confidence and the other is conceit or pride.  Both of them are similar in that they are uplifting states of mind which give you a certain degree of confidence and boldness.  But conceit and pride tend to lead to more negative consequences, whereas self-confidence tends to lead to more positive consequences.

I usually make a distinction between different types of ego.  One type of ego is self-cherishing in order to get some benefit for itself, disregarding the rights of others.  This is the negative ego.  Another ego says, "I must be a good human being.  I must serve.  I must take full responsibility."  That kind of strong feeling of "I" or self opposes some of our negative emotions.

So there are two types of ego, and wisdom or intelligence makes a distinction.  Similarly, we must be able to distinguish between genuine humility and a lack of confidence.  One may mistake the two because both of these are sort of slightly humbling mental functions, but one is positive and the other is negative.

This was what I was trying to say to Susan.  It is one thing to be humble and thankful.   But it's another thing to not appreciate your gift and to diminish it so not to appear full of one's self.  And that is a lack of confidence.  You need confidence in order to boldly do things and say things that need to be done and said.  I'm learning that lesson every day.  I am making a conscious effort to put that lesson front and center in my life. Because if I don't realize how good I am, then I don't understand the value of that gift and I give it away or I let it go because I don't understand how special I am.  And not to get all spiritual, but under valuing our God-given gifts is disrespectful.

And I don't like it when I'm full of myself, but I find it utterly offensive to be disrespectful.  But just like ego can be a trap, so can a lack of confidence and respect for one's abilities disguised as humility.

I gave Susan an earful this morning.  But thankfully, she was gracious enough to listen to me and hopefully understand where I was coming from.  That's a good friendship.

The Letdown

I feel sad.

I just wrote something that took a lot of effort.  And now it's turned in.

That's the Letdown.

Whenever I write something, especially the first draft of a new play but really anything, I feel like shit afterwards.  I guess it's kind of a writer's postpartum depression.  It happened.  And now it's done.

What do I do now?

Usually, I eat to numb the pain.  Usually, I'll reward myself with ice cream or a hamburger or something I've been denying myself.

Today, I went to the Korean Spa.  I just wanted to be stripped away of everything.  I didn't want to be home because I had been home writing in a cave for the past several days.  I wore the same clothes.  I took occasional showers.

The spa was fitting because it was a cleansing.  And I had decided to do something crazy while I was writing this time.  I went on a cleanse.  Usually when I'm writing I have "brain food."  By the way, I did notice that my reward for the letdown is the same as my reward for having to write.

Fran Lebowitz (can't go a few posts without mentioning her) says in Public Speaking that writers are self-destructive to punish themselves for playing God.

That's why my first impulse when I knew I had this big writing stretch was to go out and buy cigarettes.

But I didn't do that.  I went out and bought a juice cleanse from Costco.  I made meals that often had spinach in them.  Tonight I had lentils and butternut squash.  I did the lemon and cayenne thing.  I decided to take away my "comfort foods" and my "comfort habits."

Am I saying that the key to good writing is discomfort?

It made me focused.  It got me to trim the fat.  And it gave me something to focus on other than my anxiety about writing.

I woke up.
I drank the lemon, cayenne and cherry drink in the morning.
Then I had to plan my meals.
I had a mid-morning snack.
Then lunch.
Then a mid-day snack.
Then dinner.

I had to prep all of this stuff.  So every three hours I was getting up and doing something.  It focused me.

And now I have this let down.  I guess what's different this time is that I know it will pass.

I just need to let it happen.  And sleep it off.

And maybe stop writing.  Just until morning.

When Opportunity Knocks...

I write every day.

I write this blog.

I write my Facebook posts.

I occasionally even write new plays.

I wrote three pilots last year.

I wrote about four drafts of one.

Then I changed my idea for it.

This year I wrote another pilot.

I wrote about five drafts of that one.

It was pretty good.

But I wanted to do some rewrites on it.

I had a plan to do some rewrites before

Mercury went retrograde again

(in a few days)

I had been coming up with ideas for the rewrite

Over the past few weeks

I had my stories laid out

I had a decent idea of how the characters

Would be different

This time around.

Then I went away for four days.

Recharged my batteries.

Had some great revelations about life.

Took a dance class.

Saw old friends.

Saw former students.

Came back recharged.

Then I got an email on Tuesday

Letting me know that I had

Been nominated to submit for the

Fox Writers Initiative

And then I checked the website to see

When the application was due:

Friday.

Four days

If

I counted the day I was in.

I thought to myself

"I can get this done."

I've rewritten things quickly before.

But I want this to be good.

I don't want this to be a rush job.

Then I thought,

"Against all odds, this happened.

"I need to finish this script."

When the Universe speaks...

It speaks loudly.

It's an Opportunity

And who am I to be so 

arrogant to say that

I don't have enough time.

The Universe conspires...

Long story short: I got it done.  The Universe did me a solid and sent me an opportunity to get this script done.  I outlined on Tuesday and I wrote most of it on Wednesday and Thursday.  I had the very last part to finish on Friday.  I got everything signed and notarized.  I drove it over to Fox and handed it in by 5:30.

Why share this?  Do I really need to brag?  Did I really need to write this as a poem?

So many questions...

It's said that luck is opportunity meeting preparation.  I wasn't totally prepared with a final draft of the version of the story I wanted to tell.  But I had been working on it.  I had been stalling a bit as well.  And the Universe basically told me to get out of my head.  Sometimes we need that push. Sometimes we get in our own way.

Sometimes we don't trust ourselves and we don't appreciate what we have.  I'm learning that in a big way.  

My friend Susan said to me recently that we just need to own it.  We want to be humble and grateful.  But what we really need to be is entitled.  We deserve to stand front and center.  Having all the talent in the world is a real gift, but if you don't appreciate the gift and if you don't do everything to get it out there, then are you disrespecting the gift?

I wrote that script not just because I wanted to win something.  I wrote it because it was time for it to be written.  It was time for certain doors to be unlocked.  It lit a fire under my ass.

Do I want to be awarded the top prize for this Fox Writers Initiative?  You bet.  I want it more than anything.  But I want more than that is the attitude that comes with winning because you know you deserve it.  You know that you've done your best.  That's the prize.  And that way you're always winning.  

It's just that sometimes the prize is money.  Or a job.  Or an agent.  Or your own TV show.  And sometimes it's that you wrote a damn good script.  And the prize it on its way.

The Role of the Disrupter

Just got back from a trip to Northern California this weekend for a Theatre and Dance department reunion at my alma mater, Santa Clara University.  The weather was perfect: crisp, blue skies and warm enough to show off the legs (if you saw me do the campus loop twice on Friday morning, you saw them).  I got to see a ton of old friends at the reunion, as well as a bunch of former students.  You see, this reunion was significant for a lot of reasons that I'll get into.

(One being this one: http://creativityinrealtime.blogspot.com/2013/10/im-dancer.html if you haven't checked it out already)

I taught there two years ago and then went back to give guest lectures and guest direct (along with a bunch of other folks) a project by my playwriting mentor who set me on this path.  I have a lot of love for this place.  It's interesting to walk on that campus as a professor as well as an alumnus.

One thing I should mention is that I was never a theatre major.  I was an English major with a double minor in theatre and dance.  I was also a pest.  So much so that when I was asked to fill in for a teacher who had to take a last minute leave, I thought, "Do they even remember the kind of student I was?"

The Kind of Student I Was

I was so excited to be at a college where they offered dance classes that I practically wet myself, slipped on the puddle, broke my ankle and ended my entire college dance career on my first day in my first real Jazz I dance class.  Okay, maybe that's a slight exaggeration.  But I couldn't believe I could take a dance class and that it was included in the price of admission.  I thought I had stepped into the greatest pile of poo that ever was.

I loved being a really bad dancer.  Then I loved being a mediocre dancer.  But I loved being a student choreographer with lots of ideas even more.

That lead to playwriting class.  I wanted to take class because I was an English major and pretty sure I was a writer.  I knew my parents would have something to say about me being an English major, who was moonlighting as a dancer and a theatre groupie.  Up to that point (the Spring Term of my Sophomore year), I had just been a big groupie.  I was just happy to be there.  I started taking more dance classes.  I took an Acting class and I was in the Fall show, The Tempest as a background native/dancer in a loin cloth.  My parents actually came to that show only because they happened to be passing through.  I'm sure they were horrified.  I knew I belonged in the theatre.  I just didn't know as what.  So it made sense to take a class in Playwriting because I was a writer and I liked being in the theatre.  Plus, the teacher was some guy from Yale who was guest teaching for the first time.

Erik Ehn walked into that class room (our theatre's rehearsal hall).  I looked at him: bald head under a baseball cap and probably shlumpy jeans with some sort of t-shirt or long sleeved shirt.

"I'm a playwright, " I said to myself.  He hadn't opened his mouth or given us an assignment or proved how brilliant he was yet.  He just was there, standing in front of me.  From that moment on, I would hunt Erik down in the hallways and in the green room.  I seriously stalked him because even though I didn't know how important he was and would be in the world of theatre, I just knew that he was great.  He wasn't one of those professors that gets personal or invites you into their life.  I'm like that as a professor, but he wasn't.  But what he gave me was the shiniest key that opened up the brightest door in my life.

Every Spring for the next two years, I would work with Erik on an independent study.  I can't believe I convinced him or the department to let me do that.  I figured the next step would be workshopping a new play.  He supervised me.  I rehearsed my actors from 11pm-1am and my friend directed us.  I was in heaven!  Then my Senior year, I decided that I wanted to put the three worlds together: Theatre, Dance and English.  I would write poems and set them to music and dance.  I wrote the poems in my Advanced Poetry class and they all seemed to have images of something breaking through the surface or emerging.  I called it breakthrough because that's what I was having.

When I approached the theatre department about wanting to have a Senior Recital (something all of the Senior Theatre MAJORS had), I was told no.  Theatre Minors don't get recitals.

My reply was something like: "Yeah, but some of those guys don't even really want to put on a show.  Here you have someone who works hard and has such passion for what they're doing.  Shouldn't you make an exception purely based on that?"

Now you understand when I say I can't believe they asked me back to teach.

Okay, I was told.  You can do a presentation, but it can't be held in the studio theatre where all of the recitals are held.  And you can't have lighting and sound designers assigned.  You have to do it completely on your own.

"Fine."  I wasn't going to let them beat me.

And you can't call it a recital.  And you can't call it a production of the Theatre and Dance department because then we get to tell you what it can or can't be.

"Fine."  I hated being told what to do, as you can imagine.  The English department was easy.  It would now be the kick off event to the Senior Poetry Readings because even as a production, it was a poetry reading.  And I think I was co-advised by my poetry professor and by Erik.  And I did it.  Myself.  And I wrote this essay and stuck it on the back of my program (editing it based on the fact that it needed to fit onto one page--to this day, I'm obsessed with word economy):

http://iambacktolife.blogspot.com/2012/05/thoughts-from-my-22-year-old-self.html

I remember being in rehearsal when I read the essay to the group.  My friend Heather said that I shouldn't include it in the program because someone was bound to get offended.  I thought about that, but also thought that it wasn't my role to just go along with everything.  I had fought hard for this breakthrough and for my personal breakthrough.  And the point was to break through.  To tear apart the surface and emerge!  For that reason alone, the essay was in.

After the performance, the head of the department came up to me and said, "That was the most creative thing to come out of this department in five years."

I had broken through.

Back to the present...

When I arrived on campus, I met up with a pal and this pal mentioned that there was a hullabaloo in the department because of a letter.  Apparently a student had slipped a letter that criticized the department in a very detailed, line item by line item fashion.  The student had made the mistake of slipping the letter under the office door during the senior graduation dinner.  Bad timing.

The ruckus that this letter has caused seems to be incredibly divisive.  The current head of the department was incredibly hurt by the contents of the letter.  And then another professor had lead the charge to find out who had written the letter.  Several students have been involved.  Hurt feelings on both sides.

That weekend I ended up catching up with several friends--both students and faculty members.  The subject of the letter inevitably came up.  I heard both sides of the argument.  I was incredibly disturbed by the whole thing.  I was disturbed that a place that I love and hold dear to my heart, a place that changed the course of my life, that educated me in too many ways to count was now a house divided.  I was ashamed at the behavior of both parties.  I was disappointed by the shared ill will.  I don't know how anyone works in an environment like that.

I know that I wouldn't have survived in an environment like that. I know that the course of my life would not have been changed in an environment with an uncooperative administration that refused to hear my complaints.  I know that it would have been impossible to love what I was doing in an environment like that.

My whole philosophy with my students is about finding their voice and using their voice.  One's voice is the truth and essence of who they are.  It's them saying that they are valid and worthwhile.  And it's my job to facilitate the finding and exploring of that voice.  But it's not my place or my right to silence it.  It is my place to tell them when they are being disrespectful and how they're being disrespectful.  It's my place and my responsibility to come to the table prepared to listen and to be heard and to allow for the same on the other end.  It's my job to teach a student how to do that.  To lead by example.

I'm not more disappointed by a teacher's role in this because I'm taking sides.  I'm disappointed because we should know better than to engage in ways unworthy of our position and our age.  Even though I am not taking sides, I have been on the other side.  My mere presence in life is disruptive.  I am an articulate, outspoken, self-possessed brown person who feels entitled to the life he leads.  My feet are not bound and I do not work in the back of the house.  I am purely front of the house.  I am front and center.  The mere sight and sound of me is disruptive.

I had a conversation (without one mention of the letter) with a friend that weekend about how disruptive I am.  My friend said that things needed to be disrupted.  It was important and essential.

This person has taught me a lot through their friendship over the years and I tend to agree with what this person says.

That's our role as an artist.  That's what that 22 year old kid wanted to do.  And I'm talking about both 22 year old kids--the one who wrote the letter and the one who wrote the essay at the back of the program of his senior poetry project.  They both knew what they were doing and with full awareness went into action.  They both labored over their words.  They both set the right tone and were articulate. But they both wrote loud words.  Thoughtful, hopefully as well.  But words that were meant to have impact with great purpose.

I don't know what the student who wrote the letter was thinking.  I don't know who that student is.  But if the student's words are having this much of an effect, that student must have written one hell of a letter.  Angry, definitely.  You don't send a letter the night before graduation if you're not pretty upset.

The one thing I keep thinking about is what this person had to gain.  Other than getting something off of their chest.  Nothing.  This person is now a graduate.  This person could have said nothing.  Not out of being respectful and polite, but out of being disengaged.  But even at the end of their scholastic career, this person cared enough to say something.  Anonymously, yes.  But then it becomes about that particular student if that student chooses to identify themselves.

But they could have said nothing.

Why say something?  Why go through the effort if you have nothing to gain?  Even the desire to send a final middle finger is a fleeting reward.  I would hope that this person stuck their neck out and hurt a lot of people's feelings for a good reason.  After all, these professors put themselves on the line every day for students.  They sacrifice their personal lives, their professional lives to teach.  To instruct the leaders of the future.  They teach because they are engaged in the active process of educating students and creating self-motivated, forward-thinking artists with a conscience and a belief in something beyond themselves.  It's more than just getting a role or having a place in the hierarchy or being favored.  These educators want their students to succeed beyond them--both after they've left the theatre department and hopefully beyond their own limitations.  Good teachers, like good parents, want their kids to be better than them.

So why would a kid who was under the advisement and care of these professors speak their mind?

If they've learned anything in their four years, the only reason worthy of all this disruption would be to make sure that it was better for those future students.

But I guess we'll never know.

And we still haven't answered the real question:

Why?

Conversations with Real People

12:27 AM – Sunday, October 13

I am sitting in my friend Bill’s Pool House in Sonoma, CA writing on my laptop after a long, fun day of interesting conversations.   Bill and I have been friends for eight years and every time I’m in the Bay Area I reach out to see what he’s up to.  This weekend, he told me he was having a bunch of guys up to his house in Sonoma and asked me if I wanted to come.  I headed out Saturday morning and was at the pool house by noon.   Bill was here with his friend Alex and eventually the house was full with an interesting group of characters.

We got into the hot tub at some point and the conversation turned to Shakespeare.  I think it started by talking about someone’s Dad’s fascination with the West Side Story soundtrack.  We were talking about how stories seemed to recycle.  Then this guy named Matt mentioned that he studied British Literature in college.  The conversations ran the gamut from Miley Cyrus to the relevance of companies like JC Penny and the recent firing of their CEO.

I go back to my favorite, Fran Lebowitz, who says in her documentary Public Speaking  that writers need to hang out with people to be inspired.  They need time to just talk about things, to get perspective and to just engage in conversation.  It’s inspiring. 

I thought a lot about that last week when I hung out with my friend Tim and his friends last week.  I blogged about it here:  http://creativityinrealtime.blogspot.com/2013/10/cowboys-and-kushner.html

And I thought a lot about it today.  I can do all of my work.  I can write and read plays and watch documentaries on Netflix to be inspired.   But what ties that all together is discussing what’s on my mind with other people.  Intellectual discourse.

I chatted with a really nice guy named Alfred, who was there in what seemed like a strange pairing with a younger guy who brought out two different pairs of Tom Ford glasses during the day.  Both guys claimed to be straight, but the hot young guy was dressed like a modern day James Dean in the right navy cardigan, the right white t-shirt and the right pair of Diesel jeans with red tie up Vans.  This look was well curated.  The oddness of the pairing aside, the conversation with Alfred went from talking about high end real estate in New York and how the super rich from other countries are buying up property in Manhattan to his struggles with sleep apnea. 

Then Matt and I talked about how mutual hate and fear of horror films.  How we both hate watching people get mutilated on film.   Poltergeist was fine because it was supernatural and less gory.  And the Scream films were okay because they were kind of meta and they were about horror films.  And they were funny.  But no to Saw.  My opposition to horror films started when I was seven and my Uncle took me and my brother and cousins and grandmother to see Friday the 13^th. 

I caught up with my friend Thomas about what was going on in our lives.  He had sunglasses on and apologized that I couldn’t see his eyes.  Then he told me about how he had worked in Haiti two years ago and that the people there didn’t trust you if you were wearing sunglasses because they felt like you were not letting them into seeing who you are.  It has made him sensitive about not showing his eyes to people ever since.

We had a conversation with Bill's friend Alex about his "back of the house" dating habits and whether or not his attraction to Latino men who wore jewelry and displayed machismo was purely aesthetic.

Bill and I caught up about the boyfriend’s life on tour.  We all ended up gossiping about the couple who had just been there with us, wanting to know what their relationship was.  I got a hug from Thomas who said he was so glad I came up for the weekend and that he wishes we were more in touch.  I honestly didn’t realize until today that he actually liked me, beyond being polite whenever we saw each other.  I’m not sure why I felt like he had been standoffish before.  But it felt good for us to have a few good moments at the party.

As the party winded down and we all came inside the house and separated into our own factions for either more conversation or for other fun nightly activities (I settled for intellectual discourse versus sexual intercourse), it kind of felt like The Big Chill or Love Valour Compassion:

A group of people—some friends, some acquaintances, some strangers—gather for a pool party on the last real night of summer at a vacation house in Sonoma.

I’d buy a ticket to that movie. 

It made me realize how much I miss that sort of interaction.  I have great friends who stimulate me often with what they say and what they do. 

My best friend Alanna and I are working on a sketch show idea right now and those conversations about the things we grew up watching completely inspire me creatively. 

My friend Susan and I talk about our future and she does tarot card readings for me and tells me about my life.  Those talks are often about business and about visualization.  It’s what got me started on the path of doing my running meditations.

But I realize that I need a group of intellectual, accomplished gay men who know about art and culture, care about politics and are informed, and care about each other deeply.  Yeah, I could write a play about it to get that feeling of care and friendship.  Or I could just try to find more people like that in LA.

I hope that’s not going to be as hard as it sounds.

POSTSCRIPT: The group and I are going for a run in the morning.  And we might be doing a boot camp together.  Mind-Body-Soul connection.  Get into it.

I'm a Dancer

My friend Kristin sent me an email when I told her I was coming up to the University for a visit:

Advanced Modern I is at 9:15 AM on Friday.  You should go come and take it.

I knew I had a pool party coming up in Sonoma.  I could use the extra exercise to make sure my body looked in tip top shape.  Also, I wanted to see how the old body was working.

When I told Kristin, “Sure, I’ll be there!”, I got a follow up email:

That might be a tough course to throw you into.  Let’s see how you do.

The gauntlet was thrown down.  I was going to show Kristin and her students that I still had it. 

I had been doing yoga (maybe a few months ago). 

In any case, I run every (other) day! 

Okay, but I’m in shape.  I might be a good deal older than these students, but I look good for my age.

To prove how fit I am, I scheduled an 8 AM run with a former student of mine.  Andre and I decided that we would do two loops around the campus.  Easy!  We start running.  Andre tells me about life since graduating.  I wonder why he’s not in LA.  He’s taking a playwriting class with a group of people who are in their sixties and he’s learning a lot.  I tell him about life in LA.  He wants to slow down the run or take a break, I keep going.  At this point, I can’t believe that I have more stamina than a recent college graduate.  I love it and keep running.  We finish one loop.  Walk for a minute.  Then we hit the next loop.  Andre tells me about a woman “in his life” (I know he reads this blog, so I’m going to be discreet).  We high five on it.  But I am amazed that I am keeping up.  What a great warm up for class!

By the time we’re finished we have done 3.4 miles.  Didn’t even feel like it.  We had a great conversation.  Caught up.  My legs are warmed up.

I change and get into class.  I am wearing a pair of short running shorts (black with two neon green stripes down the side) and a long sleeved white and grey striped t-shirt.  There’s only one other person waiting in the dance studio.  I guess I’m early.  My friend Kristin comes in and the three of us warm up.  Something with a tennis ball and rolling it under our legs to warm up or work out the muscles or something.  I’m not quite getting it.  Kristin’s correcting me a lot.  Whatever.  It’s a tennis ball!

The students come in as we’re stretching and warming up.  I look them over.  All girls and one guy.  They seem friendly enough.  I’m on my back and running the tennis ball over my ass when Kristin introduces me as an alum, a teacher, guest director, actor (baker, candlestick maker, cop, construction worker, and cowboy).  I might be on my back and not looking at them, but I can feel a collective rolling of the eye.

F you!  I’m gonna smoke your asses in class!

I might be a little competitive.  Kristin starts class and explains a new section of the Wave that we’ll be exploring today.  I guess the Wave is a combination or a routine or something.  I never did the Wave in dance class, but I just decide to follow along.  She does this whole section.  The kids nod.   I look at her with puzzlement.  The kids follow along perfectly.  Maybe I shouldn’t have gone for that run.

We start the Wave.  So what I do know about the Wave is that it’s a continuous series of exercises.  We keep going and going and going on.  At a certain point, everyone looks like they’re doing a different thing.  So I decide that I’m going to warm up what feels right in my body.  I move around.  I follow along a bit and copy some of the dancers.  They follow me and what I’m doing.  It feels completely in sync and I feel buoyed by the dancers.  I like this.  I wonder whose technique it is for us to all warm up at our own pace.  But I love it despite my questions.  Then we start doing the new section that we talked about.  Oh!  So we kind of did an improv warm up and then we launch into the new section.  And everyone knew how to follow through and jump right in!  Wow!  Kristin really has these students locked into her way of thinking.  Then Kristin explains another section she wants to add on.  At one point, I’m completely facing the opposite direction of the students as they’re doing their routine.  I go with it.  It all feels completely intuitive.

At some point, I look around and realize that everyone is doing the same thing, but just maybe at their own pace or a little off.  Then I realize that what they were doing wasn’t an improv.  I was on the only one improvising.  Oops!

Fuck it!  I then start following suit a little bit more closely.  We finish the Wave, which seems like 45 minutes or more.  Then we gather around and talk about what we learned from the Wave.  The students talked about specific sections that they were getting better at.  They talked about being lost in the beginning of the course and now starting to hit their stride.  They talked about certain joints.  They talked about not having coffee in the morning and feeling woken up by the movement.  Everything they’re saying seems so specific to today’s physical experience and about them wanting to get better.

The question comes around to me.  What did I learn?

I learned that my body is not the same body I had twenty years ago.  But my mind was so focused and sharp.  I was more in the present of what I was doing instead of worrying about what my body was doing.  I didn’t know what the hell I was doing and I gave into that.  I kind of just let it all go and let it all happen.

My statement was met with polite nods of acknowledgment.  With their blank stares, they were saying, “Whatever, old guy.”  And, by the way, I look like I’m only a few years older than them.  So they could have been saying, “Wow, we better keep going with this training because look at how quickly it all goes.”

Kristin, in a delightfully supportive (or maybe passive-aggressive) way, asked the class to raise their hands if they saw me.  How I was doing my own thing.  I just look what I wanted from the movement series and attached to what I wanted to.  She did say it was beautiful.  But did she mean beautiful in the way that the crazy and out of touch can be beautiful.  There is a certain beauty in insanity, after all.

I think Kristin was being encouraging and not condescending or feeling sad for me.  But despite what she meant or didn’t mean, I loved what she was saying.  And it seemed like a metaphor.  In my life, I have mainly cared about what other people think.  I lived my life to please everyone.  Here I was in this dance class with some people who might have been half my age.  They were totally wrapped up in getting it right.  I was wrapped up in the experience.  I remember being that kid who was trying to keep up and feeling like I just wanted to get it, but it wasn’t happening.  I was so focused on what I wasn’t doing, that I was missing what I was doing. 

True, the body is different now.  I have aches and pains I didn’t have before.  But the body is also more informed.  I am actually stronger now than I was as a dance student.  I have more weight to my body.  I am more grounded.  I truly saw the advantage of being older.  I was completely oblivious to the fact that I wasn’t doing this very laid out routine.  But I also engaged in what I could do and that felt so expansive.  I felt like I was doing everything right, because I was doing everything that was right for me.  And I was still getting movement into my body.  I was still elegant.  I was still strong and powerful and graceful.  That class kicked my ass, but not because I couldn’t keep up.  I kept up.  I kept up with myself.

My friend Susan in the two tarot card readings she’s gone for me recently has said that I have all of these amazing things happening around me that I can’t feel.  My experience of life on a daily basis is not one where I am focused on what I have and what I have accomplished.  I constantly look at my deficiencies.  That mentality literally blocks the blessings. 

But what I did yesterday unlocked something in me.  Something deep.  It didn’t matter that I was literally facing in the other direction.  I’m an Aquarian.  My ruling planet of Uranus orbits in the opposite direction of all the other ruling planets.  I’m supposed to be facing in the opposite direction—not the wrong direction, but the OPPOSITE direction.  That’s my role.  I completely was unaware to the fact that people were doing something else—well, that’s one way to look at it. 

The other, more constructive, way is to say that I took what I needed and left the rest behind.  Like any philosophy or way of thinking.  I took what my body needed and left what it didn’t.  I focused on what I am rather than what I am not.   My body still got its fill.  I stretched my muscles and I held my poses.  I worked my core.  I created the experience that allowed me to fully embody who I am. 

I had some hesitation initially about coming up for the reunion.  I had some residual bitterness about being passed over for a job there.  But then I realized that every time I come up to visit, something good happens.  So I decided to make the trip.  And that revelation—that I need to just fully be in myself—was worth the trip.

And I think it'll change everything.

Brand Identity

Who Am I?

When I was in high school, my second year theology course was based on this question.  My professor wrote that question on the board and said, "This is the question we'll be answering this semester."  I remember that moment so clearly because I know up to that point no one asked me to even consider that question.  I was also in the midst of a sexual identity crisis and kind of blown away that a Jesuit was asking me this question in the middle of my religious studies in high school.  I had gone from studying the scriptures in my first year to this!  It felt like I was being awakened and introduced to the person I would become.

It is a life-defining question and one I'm still trying to answer.  How that relates to me as a spiritual being is a whole other topic.  But how it relates to me as a writer, as a creative person and as a brand is a whole other thing.

Say what you will about the branding of America.  Or more specifically the branding of the self.  But this is what we're asking of people nowadays.  Agents and managers and producers and executives want to be able to sell possible vendors on the idea of you.  So they need to know what niche you fit into.  All of this can sound like blasphemy and antithetical to the creative process.  I take it on as another kind of creative process.

Don't get me wrong, I do find it offensive.  The idea that I'm a product and that I need to be sold.  But I'm also someone who wants to be hired for a job and I need to give someone a reason to hire me, besides quality.  Quality seems secondary to alerting the consumer to what they're getting.

First, I need to put my sign up:

• Low Cost Air Conditioning
• Tasty Donuts
• Thai Massage

That alerts the customer to what they're getting.  "Oh, great!  Because I'm in the mood for a tasty donut.  Maybe an apple fritter or a bear claw!"  They know which store to walk into.  The right store gives them an idea of what they'll be getting, even if I don't deliver on that promise.  But they need to be promised the promise and they're only promised the promise through what their own preconceptions already are.

It's connecting the story in their head (their own perception) to the story of who I am.  That doesn't mean lying.  It does mean having an awareness of people's perceptions.

I was having this exact conversation with my friend Tim yesterday.  We got together for what we like to call "Study Hall."  We get together--this time at his writer's office--and we work on something.  We started out talking about what we were there to work on.  He was collating notes on a project.  I wanted to start writing the new storylines for my chef pilot.  We worked for a while and then we took a break and went for a walk.  Then we came back and talked a little shop.  Tim's looking for an agent to rep some projects he's got going on.  I told him he should focus maybe on getting a lawyer to protect himself in some negotiations, but that a rep might not come on board until he's really got something going on.

I had a question for him: "What's the story that you want this material to tell?  What do you want it to say about you?"  He said he was interested in writing about American History.  I wanted him to get more specific.  We talked about Danny Strong and the kind of work he did.  Danny's got a very specific niche when it comes to American History.  I felt like Tim needed to get more specific.  I figured he was just using me as a sounding board, so I didn't feel weird about offering my opinion.  He could take it or leave it, that's the way I feel about any advice I give or receive.  I'm offering it out of generosity, but not out of any sense that someone has to take it.  I just offer it and if it's helpful, then it's helpful.  And if not, that's okay.  Maybe it'll lead to something helpful.  He got a little locked into trying to figure out what the marketplace wants, which isn't necessarily where I come from.

He asked me how I approach my career, since I'm also looking into finding new representation.  I try to come from a place of looking at material and then seeing if there's a story that presents itself.  I can't deny that I'm from two different minority groups, in addition to being gay.  That tells a story.  It gives people an expectation of what they're getting: Tasty Donuts.  But it doesn't say everything about me.  Donuts are flaky, warm, sweet, an economical snack...they are so much more than just tasty. But tasty is what gets you to come inside the store.  Again, I personally am not trying to sell someone something that I'm not.  I think this is a perfect setting to do that, to create a picture that seems like what people want but doesn't represent you.  But that's not my style.  I want to acknowledge the preconceptions and acknowledge how I meet those expectations, but how there are more adjectives in the dictionary to describe me.  Hopefully the deeper you go, the more you know, the more adjectives you find.  I would like to think so.

Like I said, I look at what I've written.  The subconscious connects the dots in a way that we're not even aware of.  But by looking at the material side by side, I can start finding connective tissue.  And then the story presents itself.  It's also a form of self-discovery.  Julian Fellowes has written much more than just Gosford Park and Downton Abbey, but he's also a brand.  And it's up to him to expand the brand and sometimes to even deliberately go off-brand.  But he knows where his bread and butter are and--more importantly--he still has things to say.  That's why it's important to really consider the question:

Who Am I? 

No.  Really...

Who Am I?

And work from there.  Because that's the most important question.  The question is not Who Do You Want Me to Be?  Where's the enlightenment and discovery in that?

Running Affirmations: Nine - Take the Opportunity to Ask for Help

I went for a run this morning.  The weather is changing.  It is starting to look like fall.  This song sums up my feeling and sets up the visual:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q51incm4hKA

It's 10 AM and no one is on my running path.  If the weather stays this way, this might be the perfect time of day to come out here.  We have been in an indian summer.  This is the first real sign of the Fall. When it's "Grey in LA" I get incredibly contemplative.  Because the day was so gloomy and no one was out on the path, I felt more freedom to make my intentions loud.  Or it could have just been the intentions themselves.

Take the Opportunity

I have been more intentional about my wants and desires lately.  I know that I need to get a new agent or manager for my writing.  I fired my managers in May because I felt like they weren't doing anything for me.  I waited so long because I was waiting for things to change.  I realized that I do this in relationships a lot.  Or at least I have had a history of doing that in relationships.  So I decided that I would take a cue from my approach to dating:

Don't worry so much about it.

When I'm single, I don't worry about finding "the one."  I don't look in every gas station, residence, warehouse, farmhouse, henhouse, outhouse and doghouse trying to find him (thank you Tommy Lee Jones).  I just live my life.  But when it comes to my career, it's like I'm desperately looking for a fugitive who has escaped.  I have given myself time to be single, to just do some work on myself.  To figure out what it is that I want.  And I haven't taken much time to worry about my relationship with myself.  After all, it is the most important relationship we have (thanks, Carrie Bradshaw).

So now that I have been "single" for a while, I'm exploring my options and looking into dating again.  I'm asking friends if they know of anyone who would be a good fit.  I'm just putting some feelers out.  But in the meantime, I'm doing the personal work.  I'm getting my scripts where they should be...for me.  Not for anyone else.  I'm not trying to figure out what it is that people want to read or what the industry wants.  I don't know if I'm ready for full commitment, but I'm looking to date around.  I should see what's out there.

I have reached out to a few friends to see if there's anyone they know who would be right for me.  I have a few other friends I can reach out to.  But I'm taking my time.  I want to find the right fit.  Someone who will allow me to be myself.  Another strong minded individual who doesn't try to get in my way, but will support me in being the best version of myself I can be.

The dating metaphor really works here.

Ask for Help

This was the second mantra of the run.  I don't ask for help enough.  I take the opportunity to meet with folks, but I don't say exactly what I want.

I don't express my frustrations with my writing career because I want everyone to think I have it together.  Well you know what, if people think you have it together, they don't bother to help.  Because  you don't need their help--according to you.  According to what you're telling them.  I'm finally admitting that I need their help.

Anyone and everyone.

And the two phrases work really well together...

Take the Opportunity to Ask for Help

I was on Facebook yesterday and I saw that my friend who works at Sundance checked in at LAX.  I had just emailed him about something recently.  Something I needed help with, actually.  So I went to my email to see if he had time before I leave town for a small trip.

I had an email from him, asking me if I had time to meet up.

Perfect!  I didn't need to send the first inquiry.  So we're seeing each other this afternoon at his hotel.  And I will take the opportunity to ask for his help.  I am applying for these fellowships and theatre development opportunities, but they don't seem to be panning out.  And with Sundance, it hasn't panned out.  But that doesn't mean he can't be helpful.  He clearly knows people I should talk to.  He might have thoughts about the approach I'm taking.  He could put me directly in touch with people.  I'm going to let him that I need help.  That I am in need.

I have another friend who works for a theatre who has offered to refer me to a specific manager.  I have emailed her and haven't heard back.  I will re-email her today because the energy feels good.

I met a famous playwright a few weeks ago.  I will re-email him.

I have a friend whose husband is a theatre director.  I will ask him to read my stuff.  See who he knows.

My mother has always said that you don't get anything unless you ask for it.  If you don't ask, you don't get.

And she's right.

Somehow the message of taking the opportunity to ask for help felt clear and strong in my throat.  So I articulated it as clearly as I could.  And I said it out loud and not in a whisper.

It's a message that I need to hear loud and clear.

Running Affirmations: Eight - More Money

I Want to be Paid as a Writer This Month

That's all pretty clear.

I ran a long run a few days ago.  It took me a while to come up with the intention I wanted to make out into the Universe.  But it was to get paid as a writer this month.  It's not even half way through the month yet.  So there's the possibility that can happen.

I'm watching my friends get paid as writers.  I'm trying to remember some other mantras:

Good is exponential.

If something good happens to someone else, it means good is afoot.

I see massive opportunities happening for some of my closest friends.  And I choose to believe that the Universe is signaling me that I'm swimming in the right waters.

And I know that the opportunity coming up for me is a stepping stone.  Whether it's directly in line with what I want to do, it is a stepping stone.  I can use that money to pay my bills long enough to get to the next opportunity.

Or it can be exactly in line with what I want and then I parlay that opportunity into another bigger opportunity and I start building.

But all I know is that I will be paid as a writer this month and that opportunity will allow me to continue along my path and will give me the liberty to keep writing the material I need to go forward and secure new representation.

There's a purpose to earning money.  It's not just to be a consumer.  I have to stop seeing money as the bad guy or as a sign of corruption.

The money is not corrupt.  But I have the ability to corrupt it, if I choose to do so.

Mo Money, Mo Problems...if I choose it.  If I place too much of an emphasis on money.  If the money feeds my ego.

If it doesn't and it leads me to a place of higher enlightenment and compassion through travel and opportunity, then the more money the better.

Fathers and Sons

I'm rewatching the documentary Step Up to the Plate on Netflix.  It's about a father and son, Michel and Sebastien Bras.  Michel's passing on his namesake restaurant to Sebastien and planning on retiring. Oddly enough, it's somewhat familiar territory for my pilot about a family of chefs in San Francisco.  Watching this complicated relationship between father and son is riveting to me,  mainly because I lived my own complicated relationship with my father growing up.  And looking back at it, it was somewhat competitive.  Not in a conscious way.  But Dad and I were competing because he knew that I had more of a capacity for greatness than he did.  Interestingly, I decided not to say he thought I was smarter than he was because I didn't want to sound insulting.  But somehow I managed to be even more insulting by saying I had more of a "capacity for greatness."  (And language.)

There's this great scene where both chefs are trying to explain to their staff how they want service to go that evening.  And they are both contradicting each other.  I love it for its simplicity and laid-bare truth. Then right after they contradict each other, Sebastien has to go get something from the kitchen and Michel defends him in explaining how the wait staff should explain the dishes.  He says that they worked on the poetry of the descriptions together, so the staff shouldn't muck it up.  So in the span of 20 seconds, they go from bickering to the father protecting the son.  That sounds like a true father/son relationship to me.

The family later explains that when Michel built his restaurant (which eventually went from one to three Michelin stars), his wife worked with him in the kitchen initially and then became the hostess.  

The lesbian couple, Pilar and Cate will have the same relationship.  And that this was passed on from Danny (the patriarch) having the same relationship with his ex-wife, Mona.

Diego, the youngest, who is running the restaurant at the top of the pilot is not married.  And this is a point of contention between father and son.  Danny believes that he needs a balance, a partner to help him.  Someone he trusts more than anyone.

Danny and Mona's relationship fell apart when she told him she wanted a life beyond the restaurant.  Once she was no longer in the intimate sphere of his life at work, she became an outsider.  And that created room for him to find other people to be loyal to him.  He saw her need for a life outside of him to be an act of betrayal.

Alex, the oldest son, is divorced.  And he needs to either reconcile with his wife or find someone new.  But until then, his mother will step in.  It gets a bit Oedipal.  

I love this scene where Sebastien is composing a dish and his sous follows behind him with the next element and they have this dance where they follow each other putting the next element on.  It's unspoken and completely shows their relationship to each other of absolute trust.

There's this sequence at the end of the film where Michel is looking out into the field, at twilight (bordering on heavy handedness), questioning his decision to hand over the restaurant.  He laments over the way Sebastien and his guys handle the harvest.  You can see the pain in him that he's got to leave a part of himself behind.  And it's not about ego, but it is such a part of who he is.  It's his legacy, what his son will have to do one day when his son, Alban, inevitably takes over.  Alban is probably six or seven in this documentary.  But it is already clear that the next generation is being groomed, even though Sebastien tells his grandparents that his son will be allowed to make his own decisions.  The grandmother tells him that he needs to make sure he follows in Sebastien's footsteps.

Probably the most beautiful sequence (besides Michel in the field) is when Sebastien is working on this desert he has been working on for the entire documentary.  He tried it one way at the start of the film.  They go to Japan and he tries it with Japanese ingredients.  Then he comes back and is working on it again.  This time he has simplified it to its most basic elements.  But then you flash to his grandparents kitchen and you see the grandmother working with the same milk skin and some chocolate on a piece of bread.  Back in the kitchen, Michel asks Sebastien what he is working on.

"It's the story of my life."

He explains the components of the dish.   The blackberry preserves and the cheese are from his mother.  The chocolate and the milk skin are from his grandmother.  He needs something that brings the savory into it because that represents him.  He hasn't yet figured out the story of his life on this plate.

Then you cut to a demonstration he's giving and he's got three dishes that now tell the story of his life.  He has broken it out.  There's a slow baked onion that is hollowed out and filled with some sort of goat cheese mixed with a chive vinaigrette.  Then you have the milk skin fried up and curled up with some blackberry gelee.  And a bunch of flowers around it--those represent his father and his mother and his grandmother.  Then there's an egg filled with a white substance that is topped with shaved chocolate.

It's this coda at the end that tells the story of his life in such a poetic way.  And the end of the film is Michel and his wife cooking dinner with Alban, while Sebastien watches.  In that moment, he looks at his son with his father, but he also flashes back to himself when he was young.

That is the story of his life.

My father would have been 70 in two days.  My father gave me my love of food.  He gave me my curiosity and my boldness about it.  I will try anything.  I am adventurous.  I associate one's willingness to try new things with their intelligence, their upbringing and how cultured they are.  In other words, I am a harsh judge when it comes to people and food.  Just like my Dad.  I don't like to have a lot of judgment about people, but that is something I can't let go of.  It's hard for me to get real close to you if you have a limited relationship with food or if you aren't open to new things.  I think it really speaks to someone's character.  It's just food.  You can try it and spit it out.  But in my estimation, you can't not try it.  That says something about you and your relationship to the world.

My mother and I (who is the only person in my life who I reserve judgment over in her unwillingness to try anything new) are going to have dim sum in my father's honor for his birthday.  I might even eat chicken feet in his honor.  I think watching Step Up to the Plate has brought back so many memories of me and my Dad.  It's also the core of why I'm writing this pilot.  The father/son relationship drives me.  Every time I have a great food experience: if I cook something great, if I try a new restaurant, if I geek out about a food product--I want to share that with my Dad.  It's a part of me that I LOVE and that doesn't come from my mother.  It comes solely from him.  Both of my Grandmothers were incredible cooks, so it's nice that it's in the bloodline.  But my Mom hates cooking.  I love food.  

I made fried rice earlier.  It's a food that I sustained myself on when I was living in New York and a broke grad student.  It's a food that I've eaten all of my life.  My father's fried rice was the best.  He made it with char siu, chinese barbecued pork.  Green onions.  Egg.  I have made it myself many ways.  I had it with smoked bacon once in a restaurant and decided that would be a great substitute for the char siu.  I've done it without meat and substituted tofu.  I love to douse it with Tabasco when it's piping hot.   It gets steamy and vinegary.  I love that smell and taste.  Sometimes I'll do chili garlic sauce.  I made it today and I didn't have any meat or tofu.  I could have just done egg.  Then I saw that we had left over hot dogs.  I threw it in.  That would have been a very Dad choice.  He would have used Spam if he had it because he was from Hawaii.  And sliced up hot dogs seemed very Hawaiian to me as well.  I stirred it up and saw the hot dog get charred a bit.  I love that dish.  Even though I make it with brown rice now.  I'm not a fan of white rice unless I'm making it with leftover rice from a chinese takeout dinner.  Then it's economical and I'm repurposing.  Otherwise, it's brown rice for me.

I don't like going to grave sites to visit people.  I hate looking at tombstones because I find it pointless.  I'm visiting a site where a body is decaying or has completely disintegrated into the soil.  And my Dad was cremated, so there isn't anywhere to visit him.  My grandmother is buried at a cemetery, but I don't go that often.  I like to remember them through stories or through the food they cooked: my Grandmother's enchiladas, posole or tamales at Christmas time; or my Dad's fried rice, his tomato beef (or Beef Tomato, as he called it) or a fried egg on top of a steaming bowl of rice with soy sauce sprinkled on it for breakfast.  But the things that I eat that I remember my Dad for the most are the things he'd go out for: Del Taco hard shell tacos (only on Tuesdays when they're a steal), dim sum, pastrami sandwiches, pate, steaks, corned beef hash.  I love all food, like I love all people: high-end, low-end, rich, poor, of all ethnicities, flavors and persuasions.  That's how my Dad rolled and that's what he taught me.

There's going to be scenes where the family is cooking both inside and outside the restaurant.  Food is another character in this script--their relationship to it reflects their relationship with each other in all of its ambivalence and love for all of it.  This is a story of legacy and how a father knew that the only thing he could give his children was a love of food and that love would give them their values and a sense of who they were.

On a plate, he presented me with The Story of My Life.