Rely on your Foundation

Sometimes I get in a funk.

Sometimes we all do.

When I used to be in a funk, I would just sit in it.

Or I would drink

Or smoke

Or masturbate

Or distract myself some other way.

Now when I get in a funk, I try to sit still.

This reminds me of something.

I used to drink two or three cups of coffee a day.

And in the mornings, I used to wake up feeling

Ugh!  If I don't have a cup of coffee I am going to DIE!!!!!

It was the worst feeling that I was totally happy

to continue feeling.

So I did this 21 day cleanse where I had to give up caffeine.

During the first two days, I had to lie on a couch in my office

(thank God my bosses were out of town)

and just sleep.

After that, I felt amazing.

My energy was sustained,

I allowed myself to be tired, 

but it didn't last long as long as I had some water and something to eat in the morning.

That horrible mid afternoon dip didn't happen.

You know the one.  That's when you get another cup of coffee at 3 or 4 in the afternoon.

From that point forward, I was off of caffeine because it felt so much better to be off of it

than it did to get that little jolt first thing in the morning.

I was addicted!

(Side note: Now I do get tired a bit more often, but I think that's because I need to give up sugar.  I'll tackle that one on the next cleanse, maybe.)

This brings me back to my funk.

I used to get into a funk and then I would do these things to cover it up.

It was like being tired.  Instead of coffee I would grab

a snack

a drink

my dick

and temporarily feel better.  But then every time I would have a funk, I would have a

FUUUUUUUUUUUNNNNNNNNNKKKKKKK.

And the cycle would repeat.

Repeat and grab.

Repeat and grab.

Repeat and grab.

Like I've mentioned before, I started meditating recently after trying for a year to get into it.

But I did have a practice of stillness that I was working on for that year.

And whenever I would feel a funk, I would just sit still.

Or I would incorporate stillness into my life,

so that the funk wouldn't hit me as bad.

But when it did,

I would be still.

I would breathe.

I would close my eyes.

I would just stop.

Because what happens to the funk,

what makes it more powerful,

are the thoughts I would have to support that funk.

The tape in my head that would run to tell me shitty things about myself.

Kabbalah calls it hitting PAUSE.

I would have to hit PAUSE and be still.

Today I had a little funk session.

And I had a plan to go to my weekly yoga class that I do every Tuesday.

I haven't been in two weeks because of work obligations.

I was planning on going today, but because of this funk I almost didn't make it there.

I came home after a walk with a friend

and made some food

and laid in my bed.

My boyfriend, who was home at the time, asked me if I was tired.

And then he asked me if I was going to the office.

I immediately felt defensive.

I'm working.  I'm going to work!!!!  

I had the thought but didn't say anything.

It was the funk.  It was making me angry.

I realized I was having resistance to going to yoga,

even though I knew that it would calm me down and center me.

The boyfriend left to run some errands.

It was 11:50.

I thought,

I don't need to go to yoga.  I'm tired.  I can stay here and get some stuff done before I meet Jenn or I can go to the library early.

In reality, I would have ended up laying in bed.

Maybe making it.

Maybe not.

Maybe eating something.

Maybe sleeping.

So I gathered my things and left before I could do anything else.

It was 12:09.  My thoughts were still racing

It's late.  I won't get there until right at 12:30, when class starts.

Then there's parking in South Pasadena.

What if there isn't any?

Last time I went, I interrupted the class because I was late.

I don't want to do that again.

And the Resistance went on and on and on.

But I drove on the 134.

I got off at Orange Grove.

I made a right.

I made a right on Mission Street.

And I had a spot waiting for me.

I went in.

Took off my shoes.

Paid my fee.

Set my mat down.

And class started.

I was on time.

Jeremy, our yogi, sat us all down.

We were going to work on our foundation today.

Our core.

Perfect.

I just focused on my breathing.

I let the funk slide out of me as I was doing 

my downward dog.

As I had my body folded over,

all of the funk drained from my face,

like blood draining from my face.

We did the triangle pose.

And we did poses where we had to shift our weight

and rely on our foundation.

I had to put all of my weight on my right hand.

I had to do a standing split.

I was thinking about my foundation.

When he was going around giving corrections,

I didn't get any.

My body knew exactly what to do.

I had been practicing long enough

that my body understood

where to turn out

where to lay my weight

where to relax.

And I was focused on my breathing.

And relying on my foundation.

I wasn't over thinking it.

I wasn't allowing the messages of negativity to 

collapse my pose

or to get me to fall over.

I fell into alignment with my self.

And my body supported me.

I was de-funked.

What does relying on my foundation mean to me?

I love this about my yoga practice.

My body teaches me the things that my mind

is resistant to.

Or that my heart resists out of fear.

My body is the physical reality.

It is a literal gut check.

So when my body is balanced

and my foundation is strong

and I rely on what I know…

the body responds.

It lets me know that I am fine.

So when I need to understand something

that my intellect or my fear is keeping me at

an arms length distance from…

I get into my body.

I had a conversation with my friend earlier that got me thinking

about this.

I know what feels right.

I know what deepens my practice.

If I have a yogi who is interested in helping me

experience more of my self,

more of my stretch, 

more of my will sustaining my poses,

then I will grow into a fuller self.

I will deepen my practice.

If I have someone in my life who wants to create me 

in their own image

instead of fully in my own

then they'll misinstruct me and I'll have injuries.

So I do what feels right

and I stop doing what does not feel right.

Simple.

When I stray away from that,

I am lost.

I am depleted.

I have given over my power to someone else.

And my practice is most important.

Not the rewards.

I can give myself rewards.

I can give myself praise.

I can give myself candy.

I can give myself an extra hour of sleep.

I can give myself a run.

I can give myself a new pair of jeans.

Maybe this is what Joss Whedon was getting to when he talked about rewarding yourself often when you're writing.

If I'm rewarding yourself,

then I don't have a need to seek rewards or validation from other people.

They may come.

And they may be great rewards.

But when I'm used to getting rewarded regularly on my own,

I know another reward is coming soon,

so I don't stop my work.

I acknowledge and keep going.

If I'm stuck in the validation cycle,

then I feel GREAT when someone says something nice

and SHITTY when they say something that hurts me.

I have given away my power.

And it's hard not to do that in a town that runs on validation.

But all of that can be happening around me and it doesn't matter

because I'm in my office,

as the world is spinning by,

and I'm doing my work.

My day goes the way I want it to go,

based on what I am doing.

And constant productivity,

energy,

circulation

gets my endorphins going and gets me more excited to keep going.

Like my yoga class today.

I am grateful for yoga.

I am grateful for openness.

I am grateful for Joss Whedon.

I am grateful for cute bearded guy eye candy at the library.

I am grateful for Jenn's company today, reminding me to keep going.

I am grateful for the knowledge being given to me.

I am grateful for today.

Need to Write Today

Sometimes I get overwhelmed by the ideas I have or the projects I want to work on.

I have a monologue I want to brush up.
Or the end of a pilot I need to change.
I have some more books to read on this play I'm writing.
I have to flesh out the characters for these new pilot ideas I'm coming up with.

As if it's going to magically just happen…
BOOM BOOM BOOM.

Yes, I understand that being in this room in my dedicated office space helps.

I have spent the last four days in the wilderness camping with my boyfriend.
Reading, talking, drinking, going on hikes, cooking.
Not writing.
And yet, as I've said before, it's all writing.
My mind opened up.
I wandered into my own head.
I meditated.
I slowed down.
My life was not consumed by Facebook and Twitter.
I connected with my boyfriend.
We had great conversations.
I needed to do that.
We needed to do that.

I find myself getting so consumed by other things in life.
Things I have to do.
I get distracted.
I get overwhelmed.
All I have to do is what's in front of me.

I feel that because of the lack of curated language
over the past four days
that I need to get to the business of writing.
And I do.

I mediated this morning.
I paid a bill.
I filled out an application for a fellowship.
I had a conversation with Tim about the laziness of gay culture.
We talked about this new pilot idea that Alanna and I landed on.
Then I watched some clips of Sharon Stone on Oprah's Master Class on line.
And now I'm blogging.  About nothing significant.
Just letting my fingers warm up.
Just knowing that I have thoughts in my head.
It feels good to know that I got dressed up this morning and headed out the door
when it would have been so much better to stay in bed with the hot, semi-naked guy
in my bed who wants nothing more to hold me in the morning.
Yeah, I'm that guy who gets up like clockwork and goes through a routine,
abandoning the hunk who has been in love with me and who I have been in love with
for the past three years.
But I know that my soul and my brain and my heart need to go to work.
I need to be interesting to myself and to him
so that we have things to bring to the table when I come back home.
I'm going to be home late tonight, so it made it extra difficult to leave this morning.
I felt a bit selfish, especially when I think I woke him up.
He's a musician, so he keeps later hours than me.

But I'm here.
I left all of that to be here.
So I have to work with purpose!

Crickets…

I just have to be here, doing what I'm doing.
That's enough.
It's consistent.  It's dependable.  It's routine.
It's my practice.

So I'll get to more writing today.
But in the meantime, maybe I'll have some lunch.
It's about that time.
Maybe I'll complete my to do list.
Maybe I'll take the pressure off of myself so I can get some work done.

I am grateful for my dedicated space.
I am grateful for the four days I went camping with my boyfriend.
I am grateful that we still matter to each other.
I am grateful that I have a sense of purpose.
I am grateful that I get to do my work all day.

The Fruits of My Labor

I finish a script.
Immediately, I think of where I can send it out to.
Or I have finished this script specifically for a certain fellowship, contest, producer, agent, manger, executive, etc.
The script has a destination.
And I expect the script to reach its destination.
Therefore, I have an expectation.

It's hard not to have expectations.
For so long, I felt like if I wasn't setting a goal (aka an expectation)
then I wasn't putting forth a real intention.
I wasn't manifesting
or visualizing
or expecting something to come of it.
I wasn't putting for the necessary energy it takes for things to happen.
I wasn't working.

These are all the things I would tell myself.
I wrote a brilliant spec script of The Office years ago
where all of the characters switched jobs.  It was a bastardization of a job sharing program
that had been initiated by Dunder Mifflin to increase unity in the office through understanding
what other people in the office do.  Michael thought it would be even more effective for people
just to job swap without any training.
It was funny.
It was inspired.
People seemed to like it.
I never got a job off of it.
I did get a couple of good meetings.
But only a couple.

I remember thinking, "That's as good as I'm going to get as a comedy writer."
The idea was great.
The execution was great.
People would compare other scripts to that one.
"I like this 30 Rock spec, but it's not as good as The Office."
Yes, I have been at this long enough to where
spec scripts were the norm.  Now it's original pilots.
I'd like to think that the Universe did me a solid
when original pilots became the norm.
Now I had the opportunity to showcase my voice.
But in those earlier days, I was feeling defeated because
I had a few great specs:
Will and Grace, Sex and the City, The Office, 30 Rock, Modern Family.
Ones I loved more than others did:
Bernie Mac.
And others that totally flopped or that I never sent out:
The New Adventures of Old Christine, Entourage, True Blood, Glee.
I even had one that I wrote recently for a few fellowships that still use this old model:
House of Cards.

I won't even judge it.  Because it's not about how good it is.
I wanted to write something dark and political and a little over the top.
I had writing challenges I was giving myself.
The work went into accomplishing that goal,
not trying to craft a script that would get me the fellowship
because that I can't predict.
I have nothing to do with that.
I have made the effort,
done everything I can,
and the rest is up to what is supposed to happen.
But I won't feel shitty about myself if I don't get in.
I am enjoying victory already because I felt like my work on that
script made me a better writer, a darker writer, a more confident writer,
and a writer who's more fearless.
That's enough.

There's a saying that you can only claim your labor, not the fruits of your labor.
I am learning and living that lesson every day.
In fact, it's what I concentrated on in my morning meditation earlier.
I will continue to focus on that one because it's a difficult one to get.
And again, I could misguide myself by expecting to "get it" just because
I want to get it.  And getting it means getting it tomorrow.

I love the work.
I love coming into my office.
I love reading.
I love researching.
I love writing.
I love talking about writing.
I love being around writers.
I love doing this blog.
I love involving myself in characters.

I had a conversation with a good friend this morning about this very topic.  She mentioned that it's harder to get excited about writing when you're writing characters who aren't your own or when you're writing something that isn't yours.  That's hard to dispute.  It is hard to get excited about that stuff.  And for her, that translates in less of a desire to get staffed on a show and more of a desire to develop her own work because it's her own.  I understand this thought process.

But what I didn't say in our conversation because I didn't think it was important and I wanted to honor where she was coming from was that for me getting that staff job would be about other things.  It couldn't be about making my voice as loudly heard as the creators.  It couldn't be about fulfilling my need to put my voice out there front and center.  It couldn't be about things that writing on a show that someone else created doesn't allow you to do by its very nature.

But it could be about productivity.  It could be about deadlines.  It could be about learning more about production.  It could be about a daily practice of being more comfortable pitching ideas.  It could be about understanding the dynamics of a writers' office/ writers' room.  It could be about figuring out how to balance work and home life.  It could be about letting go of the need to feel validated constantly.  It could be about observing what to do and what not to do when it's my turn.

Of course none of these are prerequisites to having one's own show, even though the hierarchy says it is.  You could go right in and start running a show.  Plenty of people done it and succeeded.  And plenty of people have fallen on their asses.  It's hard to know which will happen until you're in that situation.

Of course, I can have that experience now.  I go into my office at 10 AM and I usually leave between 5 and 6 PM.  I have great hours.  The hours on a TV show wouldn't be up to me and might be crazier than that.  I have things I need to get done every day: writing, budgets, social media, web stuff, production, finances, going after money, research, development, looking for the rights for properties, meetings with writers, collaborations, etc.

Before I had my office I did that at the Wi Spa or a coffee shop or Starbucks or the Weho Library.

Before I had those places, I did that at home.

Before I worked from home, I did that before my boss got to work, during lunch, when he wasn't looking and after work.

Of course, having an office facilitates all the things I need to do to run my own production and writers office.  And all of my effort and focus has lead to this place.  Okay, so I'm still not getting paid to write.  And I have an office.  But having an office makes it clear where to send the checks.  And it gives me a place where I expect the checks to be sent.

But I'm at it.  Every day.

I'm reading Russell Simmons' previous book called Super Rich: A Guide to Having It All.  And it's about a lot of things.  One thing it's not about is manifesting money.  It's not The Secret.  No judgment, but all roads towards intention don't lead to The Secret.

But one thing Russell says in his book is that in order to get things to happen and to get paid, first you need to start giving things away for free.

Take a moment.  The reaction you're having is the one you should be having.  What the fuck?

How does that work?

But when you give your work away or your...

• advice
• love
• compassion
• understanding 
• music
• writing
• knowledge
• life lessons

…You are saying that you are taking credit for the work you put in, for your labor.  And that the work needs to be out there no matter what.  This is what people mean if they really mean it when they say: "I love it so much, I would do it for free."  It takes a lot of doing it for free.  Because that means you'll get up every day, no matter what the conditions are to do your job.  The minute you say you'll only do it for money, is the moment when your intention changes.  If you love it so much you'll do it for free, then you've taken it seriously enough for people to start paying you for it.  People will only pay you for something that has value, not something you pick up once in a blue moon.  Or something you threw together without much effort.  It doesn't always have to take a lot of time, but it has to have come from a place of intention and effort.  And when you love what you do so much and so deeply that you do it all of the time regardless of getting paid, then you've put the 10,000 hours in (thanks Malcolm Gladwell) and you've crafted and shaped and honed and perfected it enough for people to pay you for it.  And the more you do your work on a continual basis the more value it has, the better you get, the more consistent you get, the more focused you get, the more intentional you get and then the fruits of your labor are a by-product, not the goal.

As the old saying goes,

You have to be here now to be there then.

If you're only worried about that happens at the end, you don't put enough effort in to get to the end.  Or to have enough of a harvest at the end.

It's complicated.  It's hard.  It's a mind shift.  

I understand all of that.  My perspective has changed over time.  I'm learning so much about myself that I never knew.  And I have more of a sense of humor about things now.  It's hard to be in that stuck place.  And I was stuck for more years than I care to admit.  Too long.  But I had allowed a certain hierarchical mentality to seep in.  I forgot about the carefree days when I didn't have to worry about money, so I did it all for the love and tons of things happened for me.  It's difficult to be at a different stage of your life and feel like you have to give the freedom up to be a "grown up."  Dustin Hoffman said once that he hates that word because it's made up.  You can be an adult.  Adulthood is an actual state of being.  But being a "grown up?"  It's some sort of place that people made up when they wanted you to stop having the joys and freedoms that come with youth.  Then they decided it was time to stop playing around and to grow up.  We're always growing.  But that doesn't mean you have to give up a sense of joy and wonder.  Having a bank account doesn't mean you stop being curious.  Having a house doesn't mean that you have to stop being curious.  And vice versa.  Being full of light and wonder and curiosity doesn't mean that you shouldn't have financial security.  

But we place so much emphasis on the fruits of our labor, as if they're going to solve all of our problems.  Like they're the perfect lover or perfect parent who's going to take all of our pain away.  Like once we have money, fame, recognition, respect all of our fears and insecurities will melt away.  Like Anna Deavere Smith said once, "Let's give doubt a try."  Don't be afraid of it.  Sit next to it.  You might learn something from just letting it be there and not being threatened by it.  

Like, how to be less doubtful.  For example.

I am grateful for friendship.

I am grateful for the work I do every day.

I am grateful for a place to drive to every day.

I am grateful that I have friends who are in the same boat.

I am grateful to be encouraged and loved.

I am grateful for a sense of fun.

I am grateful that I know my value and my worth.

I am grateful for air conditioning in this office, even when it's too cold.

I am grateful for the check I got today for some work I did.

Co-Host Week.

It's a short work week for me this week.  I'm going camping with my boyfriend Thursday through Sunday just to get away.  I need some time to shut off the brain and be out in nature.  We're going up to Northern California.  Ten hours north to Eureka CA.  I have no idea what we're doing or what we're going to see while we're up there.  I just know that it's going to be quiet and alone time with my honey.

Until then…

I've got co-hosts all week, as if I was on The View.

Today's Co-Host was my friend Cory who met me at a hipster coffee shop in Silverlake called Broome Street.  I felt defiantly uncool in my bright madras shirt from the Gap and my Gap jeans.  I struggle with how cool I should be in this neighborhood.  Really.  It's where my office is, but some times it can be a little much.

We ran into someone he knew and who was meeting someone else he knew.  It did make me feel like the world is a tiny, tiny place.  Everyone seemed so much hipper than me.  But I guess that's always the case in my head.

Cory and I talked about writing for TV and how difficult that can be.  We chatted about friends and creativity and living in LA.  It was a great chat.  It got me pumped for the week.  I came back and worked on some pitches that I'm putting together.  Then I grabbed lunch and an outdoor chat with Tim, my good friend and office mate.  I think I'm going to read the rest of the afternoon and be a bit mellow.

Tomorrow, I'm doing some serious pitching with my friend Alanna.   And Wednesday, I'm getting together with my good friend David to chat and relate and maybe get some stuff done.  I like having co-hosts in my life.  They keep me company.  It's the same as having co-hosts on a road trip.  The 5 is a less lonely place when I've got someone just in the car with me.  Even if we don't say a word to each other.  I feel less alone.  That's why writing in this office with Tim is great.  We don't talk a lot, but it's good to have another body there.  And to know that I could bug him if I needed to.

I am grateful to share this week with great writer friends.
I am grateful that I have some ideas I feel strongly about.
I am grateful that this space is becoming my own.
I am grateful for fresh air.
I am grateful for good vibes.

Idea Machine

One of the things two of my former bosses told me about working on staff on a TV show was that as a young writer you have to be an idea machine.  Or at least tell people you are.  That'll get you the job.  But it's best if you are actually an idea machine.  That way you'll get to keep the job.

But to sit down and expect to have an idea is torture.  However, it's kind of what I do as a writer every day.  Joss Whedon in his article, "How to Be Prolific" (Google it), says that he rewards himself for just having the idea.  I understand this.  I should be able to have an ice cream sundae or a line of coke if I have a great idea.  They are hard to come by.

My best friend Alanna and I decided that we are going to try to come up with good ideas to pitch for some TV shows.  I decided to give us both the challenge of each coming up with five ideas.  I think I scared her.  And I talk a big game.

Immediately, I came up with one new idea.  I put it on note cards and put those notecards in my new idea file.

Then I had a book I had discovered in Portland that I checked out of the library.  It seemed like actually the best idea I might have.  So I started reading that book and wrote down some thoughts on notecards. Those went in the file.

I recycled an old idea that I've loved and still want to write some day.  So I put that into the file as well.

Then I sat with my three ideas on Saturday and thought that maybe that would be it for me.  Maybe I wouldn't have five ideas. I should be happy with three.  That's a lot.  So I read another book that would serve as research for my "best idea."   On Sunday, I still had those three ideas that seemed cool.  And I let myself off the hook.

I don't remember when it happened, but a fourth idea fell out.  Then a fifth.  Then some more ideas came to me, including one high concept idea that seemed crazy.  But that was the one that was begging to get onto some notecards.

When I was done I had a total of nine ideas.  Some of the ideas relate to each other or are just different takes on the same idea. But still, I had surpassed my goal for five ideas.  I got to the office today and decided to flesh out some of the ideas that seemed a little more underdeveloped, including a new take on a classic TV show.

I am an idea machine.

Sometimes it just takes letting go of my own bullshit to let things flow freely.  I'm constipated by my own stuff.  I need a spiritual, emotional enema to release my past.  I guess that's meditation for me.  It's my colon cleanse, my spiritual colonic.

I think these ideas have merit.  It's important to put my arm around them and cuddle them in this early stage.  They need warmth, love and light.  They need me to be their incubator.  And it's hard to do that when I have so many outside noise that tells me:

• the ideas should be in a better place
• they're bad ideas
• they've been done before
• they're not TV shows
• they're hard to understand
• who would ever buy something from me?

The list goes on and on.  And that's why so many people I know are stuck.  Because they get stuck in that list of excuses, worries and lies.  Fuck, I don't know where my believe in myself comes from.  

But thank God I have it. 

And thank God, I know the value of it.  

And thank God I let it go for a while.  

And thank God I had the sense to get it back, so that I value it even more.

I am grateful for my office space and the ever growing list of books and supplies I am populating it with.

I am grateful for a weekend of productivity.  

I am grateful for a space to work in at my best friend's house.

I am grateful for nine new ideas.

I am grateful for the energy to do the things I do.

I am grateful for music.

I am grateful for inspiration.

More and More Myself

I had a business lunch this afternoon.  It's kind of funny calling it a business lunch, even though it is what it is.  But I had lunch with a friend of mine who I ran into at a party for all of these fabulous female playwrights.  We had worked together years ago when we were both assistants and now she's got a great job working for a production company in town.  We reminisced about our experiences and I shared what had been going on for me in the past couple of years.

Here's the thing that I noticed: I was completely myself.  And comfortable.

I wasn't trying to sell myself in a certain way.  I wasn't trying to be something I wasn't.  I wasn't trying to impress her.  I was just sharing where I was at.

The last time we got together, I definitely had an agenda.  I wanted her to see me in a certain way.  I was trying to pose myself as a certain kind of writer.

This time I just spoke about where I'm at in my life.  It was more authentic.  And it was a real revelation for me.  I don't have to be anything other than who I am.  I don't have to oversell myself.  I was insecure.  My father was super sick.  He was actually four days from passing away, which is amazing.  We got together almost exactly two years ago.  Wow.  I just looked that up.

So this meeting was a real marker for me.  How have I changed in the past two years?  The changes are vast.  It's almost indescribable.  I have changed so much in that time and have become so much more of myself.  The work is starting to reflect that.  I am sharing so much more of myself than I ever have.  It's incredible.

And I could see the response.  When I am more authentic, there is more of an authentic response.  People can feel it.  It cuts through a lot of the neurotic, superficial stuff we put on in order to make ourselves appear in a certain way: surer of ourselves, more successful, smarter.  Everything I gave today, with pure energy but not overselling myself, spoke of who I am.

And that's so good to know.

I am grateful for growth.
I am grateful for being able to speak my authenticity without censorship.
I am grateful for all of the knowledge I am attaining.
I am grateful for a peaceful evening.

Someone's Brother Who's Visiting from Out of Town

That's how I feel sitting in this office.

Well…

It's not how I feel, but maybe how I feel others might feel about me.  Everyone's so well-dressed here in this suite of offices.  Today, I basically rolled out of bed after a late night, in a pair of long royal blue shorts and a long sleeved yellow and gold Nike jersey.  I look a little ridiculous.

Maybe I'll get more dressed up next week.  At least a sweater.  It gets frigid in this office with the air conditioning blasting above me.  Although, I shouldn't complain.  When I was here last week, it was stuffy.  So this is a much better alternative.  It reminds me of how I like my hotel rooms.  Like a meat locker. So I can then wrap myself up in the sheets and comforter. That's why I'm drinking hot tea.  It warms me up on the inside so that I don't have to wear a parka.

But I should show up a little bit better dressed.  This is my office.  I need to take it seriously, right?

At least I'm getting things done.  I just read 120 pages of a book that I might be using as research for a possible TV project.  I like the idea of the book, if not the book entirely.  It's cool though.

I wrote down some other ideas on note cards earlier as well.  I have to come up with five ideas for my friend Alanna and I to work on together.  We had so much fun working together on the sketches we wrote that I really want to do it again.  This time on a TV script that would star her.  I gave the two of us the challenge to come up with five new TV ideas each.  No bullshit.  Nothing that seems obvious.  I want us both to stretch ourselves a bit.

And then I have some pages I should write for my writer's group this weekend.  I told them I'd have ten pages.  Right now, I have no pages.  I'm not worried about it.  But it would be great to write some new stuff towards this new play.  I have four monologues I'm going to try and write to describe four of my characters.

I've been here since 10, so leaving at 3 is about 5 hours worth of work.  Not bad.  I think that's a good amount of productivity for the day.

Tomorrow I won't be at the office.  I have a lunch and then meeting my friend Jenn to write.  A little off campus work, which will be nice.

But I'm buzzing with some ideas.  Not putting any pressure on myself at this stage.  But I had 2 of 5 ideas for the TV projects.  The other three will come at some point.  But I like what I have so far.  It'll be fun to see what else comes up.

So I guess the lesson is, even if you think I'm visiting but not staying…

Don't judge a book by its cover.

I am grateful for five hours of work.
I am grateful for reading 120 pages without falling asleep.
I am grateful for a good day.
I am grateful to see a colleague later today for a meet up.
I am grateful for time with my best friend later.
I am grateful for meetings and meet ups.
I am grateful to just be taking things slow after writing so much.
I am grateful to be filling my tank.

Turning Pro

I wrote about The War of Art in my last post.  Probably not the last time I'll write about it.  That book has fortified so many experiences I've had over the past several years.  It has reenforced certain things I believe.  It's like the chicken and the egg.  I don't know which came first, my revelations or the book that reflects these revelations. 

I thought the moment of serendipity was walking into Powell's and finding The War of Art on a shelf with many, many other copies.  No, the serendipitous moment was looking in the title page and finding other books that Steven Pressfield has written.  Some I didn't know.  Had he written these all before he wrote The War of Art?

Turns out the answer is no.  He's got another book called Turning Pro, which is a concept he discusses in The War of Art.  In that book, there's a third section about angels and muses, the metaphysics of creativity, which still baffles me.  And I need to re-read that AGAIN to be able to blog about it.  But in the meantime, I read Turning Pro and it had the same effect on me as The War of Art.  It was philosophical and spiritual and rocked my world.  It made me think about things that I need to re-read and think about a lot more.  It was really good.

His voice is calming and authoritative.  It's paternal.  It's also wise.

Again, he goes into this philosophy about amateurs and professionals.  In a nutshell, amateurs let things get in their way.  Such as need to be materially successful, valuing others' opinions, self-doubt, self-loathing, etc.  Amateurs put so many obstacles in their way so they don't actually have to risk failing at something they really want to do.  They stop before they start.  That way they don't have to prove themselves right that they're all wrong.  Pros go for it at all costs.  It's life or death with them.  It's vital.  Nothing will get in their way, even a lifetime of rejection.

A pro knows she can claim her labor, but not the fruits of her labor.  I love that.  And it smacks in the face of worldly success.  If you're not rich, famous, noted, congratulated, revered, celebrated, or envied then  you're not successful and you're not doing good work.  That's why so many people quit.  Because it's not the labor that's enough.  The work isn't enough for them.  They need fruit.  They need something someone else can consume, digest and shit out.

Of course, I hoped this book would be great.  As great as The War of Art.  I didn't want to hope that it could be better.  And I'm not saying it is better or worse.  But something in the book resonated with me.  Actually, I should say some things.  And these are things that felt deeper for me than what I read in The War of Art.  Maybe since I already started to think about creativity in a certain way, the second book feels like a deeper step.  Naturally.  Or maybe it's deeper.  I don't know if it's the message or my consciousness that is making me feel this book in a deeper way.

One of the first things is Pressfield's description of a dream that Rosanne Cash had where Linda Ronstadt appeared to her.  He discusses Rosanne's love of the album Heart Like a Wheel.  One of my favorite songs, "Dark End of the Street" is from that album.  And it's a record that I admire greatly as well.  Rosanne had read in an interview that Linda said in order to commit to your artistic growth you had to "refine your skills to support your instincts."  I could rest on that sentence forever.  IN the dream, Linda was talking to an older man named Art (no coincidence - symbolism of course!  It's a dream!) who dismissed Rosanne as a dilettante.  Roseanne woke up feeling deeply ashamed.  But then she decided that she wasn't satisfied doing the work she had been doing.  But it was very successful.  So she decided to refine her skills.  She started painting in order to learn about the absence of sound and words.  I almost ejaculated when I read that.  I love looking at paintings to learn about evoking elusive emotions without language.  It's also why I loved dancing.  I could express myself without words.  It's important for the writer to understand silence and tension and emotion as much as it's important to understand language.  Actually, I think rhythm and silence are way more important tools for a writer than language.  Maybe that's why I like listening to music while I write and I also like writing in silence and driving in silence.  I don't need to be interrupted with other people's words.  It also makes movie or TV watching difficult when I'm in process on something.  It's too easy to replicate and impossible to extract the essence of something and merely evoke it when you hear someone else's words and you're trying to come up with some of your own.

In this book he also has more words about the professional, which deepen my understanding:

• The Professional Is Ruthless with Himself
• The Professional Has Compassion for Herself
• The Professional Defers Gratification
• The Professional Helps Others
• The Professional Gets Two Salaries
• The Professional Mindset Has a Practice
• The Practice Has a Space

Okay, I'm going to stop there.

The Practice Has a Space

Holy shit!  Really!  Cause that's what I'm doing right now.  I'm creating a space for myself!  

"A practice has space and that space is sacred."

"When we convene day upon day at the same space at the same time, a powerful energy builds up around us."

• A Practice is Lifelong

So now we're looking at the work as a practice.  I agree!  For me my work is a practice.  I go to it every day.  I fail and I succeed.  But I am at it every day.  Some days the sound of my fingers hitting the keyboard are like a constant hum.  Other days, I'm using notepads.  Other days, I'm watching Orange is the New Black.  Other days, I'm sleeping in.  Other days, I am looking at art.  Other days, I write 30 pages.  Other days, I bang my head against the wall.  In a life time of practice, as he says, a bad day or a bad week is only a bump in the road.  It's not the entire road.

• The Professional Trusts the Mystery
• And in doing so, he lives by the following ideas:
• Work Over Your Head
• I was writing my House of Cards spec because I wanted to challenge my writing to be riskier, more overt, darker, and political.  I didn't just allow myself to get comfortable.
• Write What You Don't Know
• The most I can be is authentic even if I've never been the POTUS.  Even if I've never been a go-go dancer or a woman or a mother or African American. But if I go for authenticity, then I'll speak to an experience with authority.  And I shouldn't be afraid to do so.
• Take What the Defense Gives You
• When I was working on the spec, there were days that I crawled on the floor and took a two hour nap.  But I was in the space.  I took what I got that day.  Some days, I have 30 pages in me.  Some days I have two.  Some days, I have a nap.  I take what I'm given and make progress so that tomorrow I can make some more.  This is a marathon.  I'm in it for the long haul.  I'm not getting bothered by a bad moment.
• Play Hurt
• I did a review over the past two years worth of work.  My Dad has been dead for almost two years.  And in the year before that he was sick and I was his daily caregiver, along with my Mother.  But I wrote every day.  Or most days.  I needed to.  The writing got me through.  I was reminded of why I write.  Of why I started writing.  I had pain that I had to get out.  I wrote to survive.  I wrote to make a record.  I wrote to express things that I couldn't otherwise.  And writing while my Dad was sick and dying and writing through my grief helped me practice my original purpose and impetus daily.  It also got me through all of it.  I could have waited to heal, but I didn't.  I couldn't.  I would have died.
• Sit Chilly
• Even in the face of fear that I wouldn't meet my deadlines when I had three scripts to write in an obscenely short amount of time, I maintained my position.  I didn't let it throw me.  I didn't panic.  

The rest gets esoteric again, so I need to read it again to absorb it.  It might be too much for me to even write about.  But this book is great because it breaks things down even more.

Like I said before, this book really resonated with me.  It helped me to know what I am on the right path.  It's the right affirmation at the right time.  That doesn't mean I'm stopping.  It just means that I am reflecting and noticing.  And it encourages me to keep going.  

As Pressfield says in his other book, the Professional Recognizes Other Professionals.

I am grateful for the lessons of these two books.

I am grateful that they have come into my life.

I am grateful for conversations with friends I have known all of my life.

I am grateful for being bold and smart in what I want.

I am grateful for not relenting.

I am grateful for knowing who I am.

I am grateful that I read words that could have come out of my brain.

I am grateful for the ability to write and express and release everything I'm feeling.

I am grateful for a day that has taken me all over the city and is still about my practice and the space that it inhabit.

The War of Art: A Sort of Review

I read The War of Art about nine years ago.  My Ex had given it to be to inspire me.  I think this was probably about our third or fourth date.  He had a bunch of copies of it that he distributed to people.  He probably still does that.  And I'm actually grateful, even though at the time I probably felt skeptical.  He had also told me about Kabbalah and that it might be hard to date someone who didn't practice.  So he got me a gift certificate to take my first class at the Centre that Christmas.  That turned out to be helpful as well, but that's not my point.

I probably had another copy laying around my place somewhere.  But I couldn't find it.  Every so often, I would go back to The War of Art and give it a glance.  But it has been years.

I remember reading the section on Resistance nine years ago and thinking "Oh yeah.  That's awful.  That's not what I do."  The idea of Resistance is that there is this destructive force that does not want us to get our creative work done.  The idea of creativity is threatening, so there will always be an excuse, a reason, a rationale to not get something done.  You'll always put other people before yourself.  Or think that you're being too egotistical or indulgent to get the work done.  It's the thought that thinks that renting an office is a selfish act.  Sometimes the Resistance comes from sources closest to us and that's why it gets confusing to combat it.  We don't want to offend or hurt people who seemingly have our best interests at heart.  Resistance also hits right when something great's about to happen.  It goes for the kill.  It is relentless and without conscience.

Resistance doesn't always take the form that we think it would take, so we don't look out for it.  It's the ultimate "wolf in sheep's clothing."  So it tricks us into procrastinating, drinking too much, oversexing, being preoccupied with Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, everyone else's lives and successes and failures instead of keeping focused on what we can control.  Resistance is results oriented and will shoot us down if we don't make a million dollars by the time we're 30 or get that job that everyone covets.  Resistance wants us to think that success is about doing things that can be coveted or seen from outer space.  Resistance keeps us focused on the external instead of what drives us, regardless of whether we're getting acknowledged or paid.  It's that part of ourselves that seeks approval and validation and thinks we're nothing if someone else hasn't told us that we're something.  I could go on and on.

For years, I thought I had beat Resistance.  But I had a boyfriend and a boss and a father that took up all of my time because I was more interested in solving their issues and being involved in their dramas instead of writing scripts.  Instead of sitting down every day to do the work.

Even though I now have an office, I still battle Resistance on a daily basis because I'm an open target.  I have taken a big step to get closer to what I want and Resistance is keeping its good eye closely on me. That's why I get here at a set time every day and I stay and sit and keep working.  Everything is writing so no matter what I do when I'm here, I am working towards my goals.

When you've battled Resistance you become really keen in recognizing it in others.  So I try to keep Resistance as far away from me as possible.  I'm learning to positively support my fellow writers and creative types instead of just commiserating and complaining and bitching and moaning and being pissed off that someone else got something that I wanted and he sucks and we all knew it when we knew him years ago.  None of that talk helps.  None of it gets my work done.  None of it helps me focus.  It's all bad.

The second part of the book is about Turning Pro.  Apparently, Steven Pressfield, who wrote The War of Art just wrote another book specifically about Turning Pro called Turning Pro.  I need to get a copy of that and start reading it.  This section is all about the difference between the Amateur and the Pro.  Basically, the Amateur says he's going to do it but doesn't devote all of his time, doesn't do it regardless of the cost, only does it when it moves him.  The misconception is that the Amateur loves what he does and the Professional only does it for the money.  According to Pressfield, the Amateur doesn't love what he does enough to do it all of the time.  The Pro loves his creative work so much that he devotes all of his time to do, realizes his own value and gets paid for it.

The Pro in me went to Monterey in May, wrote his ass off, came back turned in a script, worked to get a play rewritten in four days for a reading, got all of his actors together, and then wrote a House of Cards spec in four weeks.  That Pro got the attention of another Pro and was given an office for three weeks.  Then the office opened up and this Pro started renting it to give a home to his work.  This Pro shows up to his office every day to do the work.  And even when he's not physically at the office, he's working.  This Pro has written five pilots, two specs, and three plays in two years.  This Pro was writing while his father was sick.  He was writing while his father was dying.  He was writing after his father died.  He took time to grieve because this Pro knows that if he does not experience life and emotions, the work is not as great as it can be.  Then this Pro grieved through writing those five pilots, two specs and three plays…because he wrote those ten scripts in the time his father was dying and since.  I have written a lot about grief and fathers and sons lately.  I have written about loss.  I just wrote a monologue specially about being at my father's bedside.  The Pro doesn't wait until he's healed or fixed to get the work done.  She takes her damaged self and heals through the work.  She agrees to meet herself where she's at and to continue moving forward from that place.

And the third part of the book is a little more spiritual.  It involves the Higher Realm.  It speaks of Magic, Muses, Angels, Hierarchy and Territory.  It's harder to digest.  I remember when I started reading the book nine years ago, this last section completely went over my head.  Even when I re-read that section a few days ago, the first several chapters were hard to get into.  Then he starts talking about the Ego and the Self.  And the idea of a Hierarchal approach versus a Territorial approach to life and it started to make sense.  I think I'll write more about this third section separately.  But the tip of the iceberg is that when we think about hierarchy and how to achieve/keep/secure our place in line, it's a dangerous line of thinking.  Then we think of ourselves purely in relationship to others.  And if we do that we'll always feel inadequate.  My friend Kevin put it beautifully last night.  "There's always someone better looking, more successful, a better writer and smarter than you."  So don't worry about it.  Worry about you.  Get your shit done.  Territory is about having a home base, an HQ, a Posse.  It's about having community.  Territory is your claim to your space.  You have to work to get it.  You have to maintain it and take care of it.  You are the groundskeeper of your territory.  You are the custodian.

My office is my territory.

It's the outer representation of my territory.  It's the land I have claimed.  It represents who I am.  Once I shut the door, nothing else matters except what I want.  My office runs my way.  According to me.  No one else has jurisdiction over what happens in my office.  It's a great metaphor.  Anyone else can run their office as they see fit for them.  But I am not in their office.  I am in mine.  I am on my turf, my territory.  What they think or want for me or think I should do has no bearing when I'm on my territory.

And I always have to be on my territory.  Even when I'm not in my office.

Wow, that thought just started coming to me.  And it started in the middle of that longer paragraph, just above us.

I'll have more to say on The War of Art.  But it is a war.  It's a battle and a fight to the finish.  It's kill or be killed.  It's risk everything or gain nothing.  It's where I am right now.

I am grateful for The War of Art.
I am grateful for knowing new things.
I am grateful for the kale and brown rice I just ate.
I am grateful for knowing what to cleanse from myself.
I am grateful that I have physical ways to affirm mental and spiritual growth
I am grateful for my ability to reframe certain stories in my life.
I am grateful for my continued success.
I am grateful for knowing where my territory is and staying on it.

A Fellow Warrior that I Knew from the Weeds

When chefs are in a kitchen during service and they're in deep trouble, they call that being in the weeds.

I used to work for a pretty high powered guy in town and one of his biggest clients was a huge TV show runner.  One of his assistants over the years has become a good friend of mine, my friend Kevin.  Kevin and I usually try to get together once or twice a year just to catch up and shoot the shit.  We were both assistants together and know what that experience is like.  We have always had each other's back on the job.  So years after that experience, it's nice to still be in touch.

We got together over beers the last night.  Kevin's one of those guys in town who I responded to right away.  He had this big deal job, but he was a cool, kind, friendly guy from the start.  He's a good egg.  No bullshit.  No pretense.  No power play.  Just a great guy who also sees all of that stuff and walks away from it.

He's a hoofer. He's a chorus girl.  He's one of those working writers who's just at it constantly.  He's an inspiration.

He's a reminder to keep at it on a daily basis.  Find your routine.  Find your practice and stick to it.

He's pitching ideas.  He's got an agent and a manager.  He's living life according to his own rules.  He's inspired by the work, but he isn't in a desperate place to make it happen.  He's the definition of "slow and steady wins the race."  He's committed.  That's one of the things I've always liked about Kevin.

And so it was fun to see him last night.  It was fun to laugh and to reminisce a bit about our times in the weeds.  And it was nice to know that he had made it out just fine.  We're veterans, I guess.

I am grateful to have true friends.
I am grateful to have people who are happy for me.
I am grateful to have genuine people to look to.
I am grateful to have what I need right now to write.
I am grateful to know what's good for me.
I am grateful to have a warm tea in my future.
I am grateful to have my office coming together.

My Posse

Writers need other writers to talk to.
Yes, we can distract each other from doing the work.
But conversation is a big part of doing the work.

Again, I go back to my favorite, Fran Lebowitz, who in her documentary, Public Speaking, talks about the need for writers to get together and shoot the shit and procrastinate and waste time and commiserate.

And then get shit done, which might be a coda that Fran doesn't subscribe to, considering that she's famously been blocked for over 30 years.

But in my case, the socializing is a part of the work as well.  My boyfriend is a musician and musicians refer to this work/socialize phenomena as "the hang."  My boyfriend will have a group of guys over.  They'll bring some beer over, maybe some snacks.  Then smoke some weed and chill out.  They'll just talk about stuff.  And then, at some point, someone will suggest that they play something.  Or that they work out some ideas for a song.  Or just jam.  In The Hang, information is passed along, connections are being made, but it's not slick and obvious.  No one really asks for what they want directly, it's just The Hang.

I think there are things to be learned from The Hang.  It's mainly social, but also about passing on information.  I think with musicians the lines are a little less defined.  But the idea of being interested in the person and then they work coming from that is appealing to me.  I have some writers who have come into my life lately who I feel have upped the game for me in certain regards.

Well, there's my office mate and good friend Tim who I am sitting next to right now and I type and he types and we're getting something done, respectively.  I've known Tim for years, we met at a party in a big Southern mansion in Louisville, KY.  Then we kept in touch and when he eventually moved out to LA a few years ago, we became a support for one another.  But we didn't even see each other that often for a long time.  And now, one thing led to another, and we're office mates.  Tim's a talented writer/director who inspires me to be at it every day.

I have another friend named David who I met at another theatre festival years ago.  Then we would run into each other at different social gatherings.  But it wasn't until a couple of months ago that we really reconnected and kind of realized that we liked each other a lot.  Not that we were archenemies before, but there really wasn't that connection.  Now we have nicknames for each other and we talk about our fears and worries and all of that good stuff that writers seem to marinate in.  And it's a good marinade.  And at this point in my life, I am well-seasoned.  But we try to get together to write or at least have phone conversations and talk things out.  David is someone I've begun to share my creative life with and it's great.  Again, another super talented guy who thinks differently.  I like that.

Then there's Cory, who is another humble writer dude, who asked me to coffee (or maybe I asked him--I don't remember).  Another talented writer who is trying to navigate the waters of LA.  We met through the Playwrights Union, the group that I'm a part of out here where playwrights living in LA get together.  It's such a diverse group of folks who are really fucking talented.  So along with Cory, the Union is my posse as well.  All of those ladies and gentlemen are terrific and really make me feel like I have  a true community out here.

And there are others...

The one thing I want to do is surround myself with writers who put the work first, who work hard and who are pros (according to the definition of Steven Pressfield in The War of Art).

A pro is someone who loves his work so much that he dedicates his life to it full-time.
A pro is at it every day.  No matter what.  Stays at it all day.
A pro doesn't wait for them to come.  A pro builds it first.
A pro is committed long term in a game whose stakes are sky high.
A pro does not work for free.
A pro does not over identify with what he does.
A pro works for money, but does the work out of love.
A pro self validates.  Does not seek validation outward.  Does not take success or failure personally.

There's a lot more in the book, but I want the people in my posse to be people who are working at being pros.  Amateurs are the opposite of that.  And it's a journey.  It doesn't happen over night.  And it might not be happening when you think it's happening.

I read The War of Art nine years ago, almost.  And when I read it for the first time I thought I was such a Pro.  And now I realize that I had been an amateur for most of those past nine years.  And that's why nothing was happening.

I also got really involved in the business of putting other people forward.  And listen, there's a difference between supporting  your posse and always being the person in the room who is offering a resource.  I believe in support.  I don't believe in standing behind someone.  These relationships have to be mutually beneficial, for the karmic health of everyone involved.  Otherwise, it's what the Kabbalists call Bread of Shame, which is rewards that have not been earned.  There is shame because you don't think you deserve it because you haven't earned it.  And you don't value it.

I believe that we all have to know our worth.  And I know that if I am the only person contributing, then I am not understanding my value.  So, as well-intentioned as certain people in my life are, they won't really be a part of my posse because we're not elevating each other.  And it's not about trading favors back and forth.  It's about true, real support.  If I have a friend who just drains my energy, that doesn't work.  But if I have a friend who doesn't have the connections I have, but helps motivate me every time we talk, then that's a fair exchange.

I'm realizing more and more the value of having other creative people in my life who add to it.  And I understand my responsibility to do the same for those people in my life who are gracious to share with me some important lessons from their journey.  But I really feel it's time now to up the game and spend time with people in my life who I can elevate and who can elevate me.

I am grateful to the generosity of my friends.
I am grateful for THE WAR OF ART.
I am grateful for food.
I am grateful for books.
I am grateful for almost four hours in the office so far.
I am grateful for the new rug in our office.
I am grateful for the amount of light in here.
I am grateful for the space Tim and I are creating together.

Back to Business

I opened the door to the office this morning with my hot tea in my hand, which was there to wake me up and to warm my body from the arctic air conditioning blast that invades our office when it's hot out.

I'm the first one here.  Tim's not here yet.  I walk in and look at my desk.  I see my supply caddy in beige.  Index cards and Post Its filled to the brim.  A picture of Debbie Harry from the Blondie days for inspiration from a post card my best friend used as a birthday card years ago.  I have a bunch of plays on my desk.  The Pillowman by Martin McDonaugh, a collection of Sam Shepard plays, and Extremities (which I'm reading purely as research, I don't really like the play).

To my left is a book on memes that a friend had recommended to me for another play that I will write in the next year or two.  It's a play that I started working on last summer, but that now I realize I am not ready to write.  I have two more plays in me that I need to write before then and maybe both of those will prepare me to write this one.

I have The War of Art by Steven Pressfield to my right.  I re-read it over the weekend.  And I've started re-reading it again since then.  I'm going to give it to the boyfriend to read next.

This is my domain.  It feels safe and warm here.  The air conditioning must not be on.

Behind me are more books:

• an oral biography of Robert Altman that I've had for years.  I started reading it again last summer over and over again when I was working on this play I had just mentioned that borrows from his aesthetic.  I'll get back to it soon.  The research was too much fun.  I watched about 11 of his films over the summer.  And now I've noticed that Netflix has some of the rarer works to instantly stream.  I'm really interested in his version of Fool for Love.  There are some films in that fallow period, which I don't think are very good or at least not very well regarded.  He failed as much as he succeeded and that I love about him.
• a memoir of a female chef that I picked up on another trip to Portland at the airport's Powell's Books, which they got rid of since my last trip there.  I was very disappointed, but very happy that I had made it to Powell's in the city earlier that day before I left.  The memoir was research for my pilot about a family of chefs.  Very helpful.
• Just Kids by Patti Smith.  I'll be re-reading that soon as I work on another play.
• a Bill Bryson book about Europe.  I'm not sure if I bought that for myself or if we got that for my Dad.  And I forget when I bought it.  But it's about travels in Europe and that is a subject that's infinitely interesting.
• The Fran Lebowitz Reader, which includes Metropolitian Life and Social Studies.  It's also the version that was reprinted when her documentary by Martin Scorese came out.  Public Speaking.  She doesn't write much any more.  But she should just let famous directors film her talking.  It would be interesting to about .02 percent of Americans (and maybe that's being generous).  But I would love it and it would make me feel like the fantasy life I want to live where such things exist is becoming a reality.  Mind over matter.
• Seven Days in the Art World.  Again, more research.  I just finished a pilot about the art world.
• Free For All, the oral biography that Kenneth Turan worked on with Joe Papp about his time at the Public Theatre.  I love this book.  I geek out on it.  I had given it to an ex as a Christmas gift when I really wanted it for myself.  It's wonderful.  And inspiring.  Which is why it's there.
• Colored Lights yet another oral biography by Kander and Ebb, the famous musical theatre songwriting team.  I read this about nine years ago and bought it on a trip to New York with the same ex I mentioned earlier.
• The Last Party by Anthony Haden Guest.  It's about Studio 54 and I got it used at Powell's.  I've never read it.  But I am fascinated by this period in history.
• Annie Leibowitz At Work.  A gift from the same ex.  I like pretty pictures.
• Stephen Sondheim's second volume of lyrics and stories behind his shows, Look I Made A Hat.  Again, inspiration.
• Influence by Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen.  It's like a more expensive, extra long edition of Interview Magazine.  Maybe a great issue from the 1980s.  Again, this is the fantasy world in which such fun things exist.

And the second shelf is just plays:

• a new translation of Medea
• Tom Stoppard's The Real Thing
• The Boys in the Band
• A collection of plays called Wordplays.  I have no idea where that came from.  Maybe the book shelf of the old couple I used to clean for.
• Sarah Kane's collected plays.  Essential.
• Angels in America: Millenium Approaches
• Collected Plays of Paul Rudnick.  I got these a long time ago.  I've read them all.  I've never been into his work, but I like a funny gay Jew playwright.  Who doesn't?
• The Vietnam Plays Volume Two by David Rabe.  I got this on sale at Powell's last time I was there.
• Clybourne Park by Bruce Norris because a student gave it to me.
• The Collected Plays of Edward Albee: 1966-1977.  Plays include: Seascape, Everything in the Garden, A Delicate Balance.  The picture on this cover is super groovy, shaggy hair, maybe free loving Edward Albee.
• The Collected Plays of Edward Albee: 1958-1965.  Plays include: Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf, The Zoo Story, Tiny Alice, The American Dream.
• Torch Song Trilogy by Harvey Feirstein.  I like a lot of gay Jew playwrights apparently.  And gay playwrights.  Who knew?

So all of this is around me.  And so are Tim's books and films and cork board.  It's meant to all be inspiring.  And it is.  So this is what I look at immediately when I walk in.  

And it reflects what I need around me in this space.  

Tim came to the office and brought with him two rugs.  We chose which one we wanted to put in our space.  We moved some stuff around and now we have a rug.  We talked a bit more about the way we wanted to lay out the space.  I think we're getting some new shelving.  

Chatted about what this week is about for each of us.  For me, I'm trying to get back into my work mode.  The big part of that is showing up to work this morning.  And now I'm finishing up this blog post, which is item two on my To Do List.  

Ease into it.  That's what I want to do.  Not just jump right over the cliff.  I'm not trying to force something.  I just am doing some simple inventory this week and getting myself set up.

I am grateful for good friendships.

I am grateful for a supportive relationship.

I am grateful to have a space in which to work.

I am grateful for a week long break from LA and a 10 day break from work.

I am grateful to have had time to focus on other parts of my life.

I am grateful to be refreshed.

Setting Up the Office

I was having breakfast on the Fourth of July in Portland with my two friends, Andrea and Jeff.  The day was off to a good start because even though we were meeting downtown and there was a huge blues festival in town, it was early enough to find parking.

I am a kind, sweet, loving person.  But if I can't find parking or if I have to circle…the Kraken is released!  It's not a good look.

So I parked.  And then went to pay.  But since it was a federal holiday…no parking fees!  Wonderful.

I get to the restaurant.  Andrea and Jeff are waiting for me.  We're waiting for a table.  After about ten minutes, about 40 people flood into the restaurant and try to get a table.  Just then, we are escorted to our seats.  This day is working out great!

I was explaining to Andrea and Jeff about my new office.  In the telling of the story, I was a bit cautious because I had a conversation with my brother the night before:

"But you have no regular income!  How can you afford an office?"

"Well, when you break it down, it's only--"

"I don't know…wow."

"I know to a person who is raising three children and has a mortgage and mouths to feed this might seem indulgent.  And it is.  But I have spent years…"

And on and on and on.  So when I explained to Andrea and Jeff that I was taking an office to create a dedicated space to my work, I didn't even have to get that far before Jeff said:

"Make sure that you make the office your own.  Put up your posters, get a cork board, get your books in there.  That way you don't have an out.  You can't back out."

My brother's voice was the voice inside my head that I was trying to ignore.  But there's the Universe again, stepping in and telling me that I have to speak to that voice and shut it down.  And I did.  I told my brother (aka The Voice Inside my Head, aka My Father's Voice) that I needed to go to work.  I needed to have a place to work.  And the opportunity came.  The Universe had been leading me there through a series of actions: my writer's retreat in Monterey, the three week trial in May and June and the space becoming available.

Today, I went shopping.  I cashed three checks for three small jobs I did and had about $135 to play around with.  Here's what I got:

• Corkboard ($9.99)
• Fashion push pins ($2.69)
• Pens (2 sets at $2.99 each, which each include a free pen - so I got 6 pens for the price of 4)
• Office Caddy/Storage ($9.99)
• 3 sets of White Index Cards ($0.01 each - included with a purchase of $5 or more)
• 2 accordian files to put my receipts in

I still have more to get, but that's getting me started.  I'm also getting a bunch of my books and putting them on the shelves.  I have to look at the space and see what else it needs.  I don't need notebooks because I have my computer and I have my index cards which will help me file projects.  I also got an accordion file that fits index cards so I can start cataloging my projects.

I have a real fucking office.  It's amazing.  I have to get some decor and we're going to invest in some new furniture or something.  But we're going to make it warm and cozy and cute.  We've got to make it feel like a real office so we go in there and get real work done.  Every day.  Like clock work.

I am grateful for all of my new office supplies.

I am grateful for my friend Jeff's advice.

I am grateful for realizations.

I am grateful for petty cash.

I am grateful for this vision.

I am grateful for the week I spent in Portland not thinking about work.

I am grateful that I am still on vacation, but I am setting my space up to start work again on Monday.

I am grateful for loved ones who care enough to tell me how they feel.

City of Books

One of my favorite things to do when I'm in Portland is to go to Powell's bookstore and just wander around.  I know that I'll always find something good.  Since there are lots of books on sale, used books and a huge selection of recommendations I know that I'll always find something.

I only had a few hours before I had to be at the airport, so I had to make this trip fast.

The first book I see is called The Freelancer's Bible.  All right.  It's on sale.  Getting it.

So I stroll in further and immediately I see The War of Art by Steven Pressfield.  I read it for the first time about 8 years ago.  It was given to me by my Ex who insisted that I read it.  And with all of the work I've been doing on myself and being productive in my office, it made sense that it's the first  book I saw.  I can't find my copy, so I pick one up.  Anyway, if I ever find the one or two copies that I already own, I'll give them away.

Then I see The Mindfulness Survival Kit by Thich Nhat Hanh.  I grab that.

Then it's upstairs to the drama section.  But instead of plays, I hit the rock music section and grab a copy of The Last Party by Anthony Haden Guest and two more books catch my eye.  Love Goes to Buildings on Fire, which is about the burgeoning punk, hip hop and disco scenes in New York in the mid 1970s, an era I am fascinated with.  And There Goes Gravity: a life in Rock n Roll by Lisa Robinson, a very well known rock journalist.

I sit down with the books.  I want to get them all, but I probably shouldn't.  I have too many books to read as it is.  I put down The Mindfulness Survival Kit, Love Goes to Buildings on Fire and There Goes Gravity.  I take pictures of the covers and will get them on Amazon.

I finished my copy of This Is Where I Leave You, which I had been trying to read for three years.  It was terrific.  The movie comes out at Christmas.

The books I purchase go into my luggage and travel back with me to California.  I am already two thirds of the way through rereading The War of Art.  I can't wait to read more.

If I lived closer to Powell's City of Books, I would be in there all of the time and I would never get anything done except reading.

When you come to think about it, that's not such a bad thing.

You have to refill the tank some time.

I am grateful for books.
I am grateful for sales.
I am grateful for my curiosity.
I am grateful for my fast reading skills.
I am grateful for time off.
I am grateful for good weather.
I am grateful for great friends.
I am grateful to my family.

A Real Break

I have been up in Portland for the past five days not writing.

That might seem weird considering that the past six months have been ALL ABOUT WRITING.  Well, kind of.

I didn't write much in January or in April.
I wrote a shit ton in February, although probably during a couple of weeks there.
And I wrote a shit ton in March, but that was only during two weeks.
Then May was busy throughout.
And June was busy for the first half of the month.

I've been doing a lot of researching.  And reading.  Just filling the tank.

And I have been seeing friends.  And I took my niece out today for the whole day.  She didn't go to school.  I didn't work.  We had a true day off.  And it was wonderful.  And necessary.  I have plenty to go back to when I get back to town.  I have a new office to set up.  I have a lot of things to do.

But I need to take this break seriously.  And I have.  I went to dance class today.  I ran for a half hour.  And I worked out.  I'm going on a hike and I'm hanging out with a good friend all day.  Then I'm going out for drinks with my brother.  And Thursday I think I'm just going to spend the day by myself, wandering around the city.  Maybe going out to a nude beach.  Just having a romance with myself until I have to be back at the airport to drop my car off.

I have been reading This is Where I Leave You by Jonathan Tropper, which I'm loving.  I decided to take a break from my research because it's depressing me.  But I have been thinking about this new play, for sure.

I haven't been meditating, so I need to get back to that.

I went to a Scandinavian spa alone on Sunday where I was by myself the whole time.  It was nice to sit in stillness and try to find my center.

But I have been resting and hanging out and eating well.  A recharge.  That's what I needed.  The last time I was here was in April for work.  So I'm more than happy to be here for fun.  And it's never enough time.  Never ever.

I love watching my niece be serious, almost too serious for her age.  Exactly like me.  I love watching her tell me that I need to focus in dance class.

I love watching my nephew be so rough with people and then laughing his ass off about it.  He's a bit mad.  And I love that.  He's also two and a half years old.  So being mad is somewhat allowed.

And my other nephew who is only three months old just watches it happen, maybe knowing what's happening or not.  But definitely a calm presence in the middle of a brother and sister who are in such admiration of each other and who are antagonizing each other every chance they get.  It's incredible.

All three of those little spirits are inspiring.  I see sparks of creativity in them, sparks of genius, sparks of pure joy.  I hope those sparks cause a fire that will burn deeply in them forever.

When I go back to work next week, in my very own office, I know I will have been inspired.

This break is much deserved.

I am grateful for time off.
I am grateful to be somewhere else.
I am grateful for a whole day to spend with my niece.
I am grateful for a whole day to spend with my friend Andrea.
I am grateful for a whole day to spend with myself.
I am grateful for the time to write this blog post.
I am grateful for great meals today.
I am grateful for ice cream that makes it feel like summer.
I am grateful for Portland, a town that I know so well.