Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

I spent all of February working on a new full first draft of a new play.  I wrote 117 pages in 30 days.  That's hugely impressive.  Just for the sheer volume in that period of time.  It obviously wasn't a polished draft, but it wasn't a shit show either.

And I heard that first draft on Friday night with my writer's group in a marathon of readings.  I got notes and I have decided that I need to put the play down for at least a few weeks while I let all of that information digest.  In the meantime, I have a new pilot I want to write.

That means that here I am on Monday, at the West Hollywood library with my two friends who I meet up with twice a week for a writing date.  I have a regular writing routine that I adhere to every week.  I do something every day that relates to my writing.  That could be watching a TV show for research or a documentary or reading an article or reading a book or talking to someone.  I am doing something every day.  Some days I'm even writing.  It's all productive.

But here I am again on another Monday starting a new project.  I am like so many writers here at the library or at a Starbucks or a Coffee Bean or at the Intelligencia Coffee or at their home offices.  We're thinking of new things to put out into the world.  We're being inspired.  We're going to the art museum to look at new exhibitions.  We're Googling.  We're interviewing someone.  We're sitting in front of our laptops and desktops or ripping out pages from yellow legal pads.  This goes on and on and on every day.  It's a grind.

And even when the words aren't coming or I'm too tired because I didn't get a lot of sleep last night, I'm forcing myself to get my fingers working by writing a blog entry.  It's something.  It's a contribution.

That's the thing.  I have to make a contribution every day.  There needs to be something I'm doing just a little bit every day.  And that adds up to a lot over time.

I have a stack of books at home that I need to get to.  I'm constantly feeding my brain so that what I produce is enhanced.  I am grass fed beef.

I am grateful that I got up this morning.
I am grateful that I thought to write something.
I am grateful that despite my frustration, I keep going.
I am grateful that I am an optimistic person.
I am grateful for my productivity.
I am grateful for insight.

First Drafts

First drafts of new works mother fucking suck.

There's no way around it.  I dream, as a writer, of that first draft that is ready to make great fortunes and will make me a famous, rich, respected writer.  But that is really a fantasy.  Because no first draft is without flaw.  No script, even in its tenth draft, is without law.  And as much as I would welcome fame, riches and respect I have been writing enough that I know that the privilege to have ideas, to be able to articulate those ideas, and the honor of having more ideas down the pipeline is ample reward.

Now, I haven't always felt this way.  And I certainly DO want to make a living as a writer.  And by a living, I mean a real living.  I mean a living where I can start setting up college funds for my niece and nephews and ensure a healthy, happy and safe old age for my mother.  All of that great material fortune is welcomed by me.

But it's not why I write.  It's not what motivates me to head to the desk every day.  And if I don't get all of that material wealth, I won't stop writing.  It doesn't have that power over me.

I write because I don't understand the world and I want to understand it better.  I write because I have thoughts that need time to be cultivated.  I have big ideas about things that need to be voiced and written down without abandon or filter.  And that is what the first draft is for.  My first drafts tend to be long and messy and marble-mouthed. They do not make sense from beginning to end.  They have some wonderful thoughts and wonderful lines in them.  But they are undercooked.

I have been writing long enough to know that this is what they need to be.

I took part in the Playwrights Union's annual month-long writing challenge.  The challenge is to write a new play in a month.  And I took that challenge to the max.  I wrote 117 pages of new thoughts.  The play I am writing is about a priest and it has nine sermons in it.  So that's probably around 30 pages of straight up monologue.  Plus the scenes in between.  And I wrote a journal along the way that is about 64 pages right now (and counting).

Then I sat in a room with eight other playwrights who had new work and listened to my new play being read.  It was painful in the usual ways.  I know it's not finished.  I know this is not the version of the play that I will be sending out to theaters this Fall with the hope of them giving me the chance to present it at any one of the many summer festivals in 2015.  But I have two months to get it ready for another reading in May.  And four months after that to get it ready for these submissions in the Fall.

I did something I never do during and after my play was read: I didn't beat myself up.  Because I know it's not a polished draft.  I do not expect it to be a polished draft.  And I know that my naivety and my fun with this play is over to a degree.  I now know what it is and what it can be, so the rest of my time will be spent chipping away at the proverbial slab of marble.

First drafts are hard because we want them to be so much more.  But it helped that I was in the room with eight other writers in the same boat.  We all want these plays to be more.  We all were freaking out before the plays were read.  We all know that there's a lot more work to be done.  But we gave each other the thing that we needed (and did get back): unconditional support.

I used to hate other writers' work because I felt it made me better if I was extra judgey.  I didn't do that this year.  And as a result, I think I enjoyed the work more than I would have otherwise.  I honestly heard eight plays that I had an interest in and that I had an attachment to.  Some more than others and all for different reasons.  But I'm going to go to all of the play readings this year and I'm going to enjoy them.  I'm excited about our little grouping of plays and where they're going to go.

It certainly took off edge off of writing and hearing my first draft.

I am grateful that I'm not as much of an asshole as I used to be (at least in my head).
I am grateful that I didn't have to go through this experience alone.
I am grateful that I wrote 117 pages.
I am grateful that I met my own expectations.
I am grateful that I am getting a lot done by not focusing on my goals, but the systems that keep me productive and working every day.

#don'tbedumb

When my boyfriend met me two and a half years ago, I was unapologetic in my love for all things Bravo.  I watched The Real Housewives of…every city.  I watched Top Chef and Watch What Happens Live.  I didn't want to be sorry for my taste in TV reality shows.  Plus, I felt like I needed a break from my father's illness.  It was great escapist TV.  After Dad died, I held onto those beliefs that I could spare a brain cell or two even if those shows were making me dumber.  Plus, I needed to turn off sometimes and those shows helped me turn off.

And I'm not saying he's right…

But I do feel like there are books and plays and novels and poems I haven't read that I should.  I'm an avid watcher of all  things Netflix now.  House of Cards, Orange is the New Black…and a bunch of documentaries.  I'm waiting to get into Derek and Lilyhammer.  Plus the Sundance show The Returned just showed up on Netflix.  I'm ready to feed my brain good, healthy, no nitrate heavy, organic food.  That doesn't mean I've gotten snobby about my choices: I still watch The Voice, The Biggest Loser, Project Runway and I'm coming back to American Idol this season.  I still need some time to let my brain rest.

But I've got things I want to write and my brain needs to be worked out in order to do so.  I'm at the local library at near my Mom's house and I realized that I haven't read every Sam Shepard play (I've read a good amount), there's some Tom Stoppard I want to get caught up on, and there are some William Blake poems I reference in my new play.  I did read a David Shield's book recently and also the new Dave Eggers book, The Circle.

I still read lots of magazine articles every day.  I still watch smart documentaries.  It's not like I had let my brain go to mush.  And it's not like I'm not obsessed with Bethenny Frankel.  The talk show isn't great, but I still watch every day along with my Wendy Williams.  I need lightness and frivolity in my life.  It can't be all serious.

I just started getting into Brooklyn Nine Nine, which after the Super Bowl seemed like a better fit for me than New Girl.  I'm fully caught up on Parks and Recreation, which is a show I adore and always have.  I'm also getting ready to write a half hour single camera ensemble comedy, so it's good to see how the pros do it.

Everything I read or watch feeds my writing.  And sometimes it feeds it by giving me something else to focus on.  I watch the HBO documentary about Fran Lebowitz every chance I get: Public Speaking.  I love listening to a smart person talk.  I'll probably pick up The Eye Has To Travel again because I'm  obsessed with Diana Vreeland.  It would be great to write a character who's like that woman.  I'm working on a soap set in the art world.  Maybe that's the right place for her.  But I have to have a feel for milieu.  And that's why I watch all of this stuff and read all of this stuff.  If you are full of information, it eventually has no other choice than to leak out without any effort of your own.

Spill over and overstuff. That's my philosophy when it comes to learning.

I am grateful for so many things to read and watch.
I am grateful for my ability to enjoy my work.
I am grateful that there are plays and poems that are available at my Mom's library that I actually want to read.
I am grateful for great writing.  It inspires me.
I am grateful for the inspiration.

Am I Done?

I have a script on my hard drive that I just finished: 118 pages.  I haven't written FADE OUT yet or END OF PLAY.  I arrived at a place that seems like an ending.  But it doesn't feel finished.  It actually feels like I might have overshot the ending.  It might have ended the scene before.  Oh, I don't know.

It's hard when you finish something.  Or rather, it's hard to finish something.  I find beginnings the easiest and endings the hardest.  I don't know if that seems like obvious logic.  There are some writers who feel like you need to know the end before you start.  I don't think I buy into that.  

I don't like having no idea as to the shape of the piece before I start.  That's only because I like playing around with structure.  Or with the idea of structure.  I have a new play I'm working on (and probably will be working on over a long period of time) that has no plot.  That doesn't mean it has no structure.  But it's a bit more of a collage.  The meaning of the piece is derived from the proximity of the scenes to each other.  I'm not plotting things out.  But for me that's still different than writing in free fall.  I'm writing knowing that I'm placing certain scenes next to each other and there is a desired effect.  But it's not plot driven.  The idea is that there is no plot whatsoever.  That doesn't mean that there isn't a theme or an arc.  It just means that I don't feel like I have to go from A to B to C. But in order to do that, I feel like this piece needs to be incredibly thought out and laid out like tiles in a mosaic.  You have these bits that add up to a collective picture once you put them next to each other.  But each of the pieces on its own gives no indication of how that's going to happen.

But back to this play.  It has a clear structure. It's happening in reverse time.  We start from the end and go back to the beginning.  So in a way, the end that's so hard for me is actually the beginning.  So this shouldn't be hard?  Right?  No?

But what I have to do after I finish is go back through and start linking things together.  When I started I didn't know all of the details of the whole story.  I wrote it in reverse chronology.  I didn't write it start to finish and then reverse it.  

So I'm going to give myself a day or two to just think about things and to let my mind settle.  I don't have to have this figured out until Friday night.

I'm grateful for having gotten to the end.

I'm grateful that I have to viable options for what this end should be.

I'm grateful to be writing.

I'm grateful that I get to hear it out loud this weekend.

I'm grateful that I have a group of writers to share this with and that they will be sharing with me the fruits of their labor.

I'm grateful that I know when to step back and give myself room to breathe.

Thrown Off

Just when I think my grieving has taken a break…

I went to a family friend's funeral today.  He was someone who knew my father very well and it actually threw me off my game since yesterday.

I'm working on patience with myself, but I'm afraid I don't always succeed.  I wrote 22 pages on Monday of Act Two of this new play and another three pages yesterday.  Yet, even though I was feeling sad about attending this funeral and anticipating a meltdown, I saw yesterday as a failure.  And it sent me into a shame spiral about where my life is, my financial situation and frankly left me feeling lost.

It exacerbated my feelings about everything going on with my life.

And it was just grief needing to work itself through my system.

I have written 89 pages of a new play in a month.  I will have a brand new play written by the end of the week.  I have to stop setting unrealistic expectations of myself.  That does not mean I don't work hard and will work harder than anyone.  But 22 pages in a day is remarkable.  It's incredible.  It's a real feat.

I am grateful that I will have written a play in a month, thus meeting my Playwriting Challenge.
I am grateful that I got a new idea for a play this week, which fits within the realm of my Seven Deadly Sins.
I am grateful that I wrote 22 pages on Monday and 3 pages on Tuesday.
I am grateful that I discovered a new place to go write today: the Hammer Museum in Westwood.
I am grateful that I can be a little more patient with myself.  I'm learning.
I am grateful that I have great music to listen to as I'm working up the courage to write another scene for this play.
I am grateful that I am getting close to the scene in the play that I am most excited about putting together.
I am grateful for Downton Abbey because it makes me feel better when I'm uncertain about where to go next.

What I Know About Me

I had lunch with a very good friend of mine today.  This friend is a former work colleague and an all around good person.  We haven't seen each other since she had her baby and since my Dad died.  We had a lot to catch up on.

We talked about work.  We talked about me getting back to work and what I need for that to happen.  I need a new rep.

Okay, I know what I have said about working in television.  I am exploring all of my options and I'm not going to work in TV just to work in it.  I want to be challenged and I want to grow.

But I have another conference call with Portland State about going up to work with their students.  That plan is moving forward.  It is pushing me in new directions.

I met with a TV manager today.  I gave an excellent meeting, but I ultimately did not feel the best fit with this person.  I felt like I would be falling back into a dynamic that I've already had.  I don't want to replicate what I have.  I want to push forward.

So I have a woman who recommended me to two women agents.  I like that she didn't just think in terms of managers, but in terms of agents.

And I have another friend, the one who I met with today, who wants to put me in touch with a female manager.

I think I would work better with a woman.  I think a woman would get me.  I think there's a certain vibe from men in this business that I just don't vibe with.  It is so frat like, for lack of a better term.  Because that's what boys clubs are.  And I'm not a boy who played with those boys.  It does feel like high school in that way.  I am much more the Ally Sheedy of the group.  And I need someone who gets that and who can get me meetings.

I don't need someone who just wants to use my connections to build something.  I want someone who believes in my work and will knock down walls to get me read and noticed.

I need someone to push.

I've already done my share and need to rest up so I can push further.

What I know about me is that I won't settle any more.  There is a new type of storytelling happening and I believe that what I have to offer works in that milieu.

What I know about me is that I trust my instincts.

What I know about me is that I am my own person and I am a strong person.

What I know about me is that I am intuitive.

What I know about me is that I want to preserve who I am and I want to make it work in a commercial environment.

What I know about me is that I don't want a gatekeeper for an agent or a manager.

I am grateful for my two meetings today and for their results.
I am grateful to know who I am.
I am grateful that I can stand firm in the person I have become.
I am grateful that I gave a great meeting and that I know whatever the result is, I did everything I could possibly do to make the meeting go well.

Keeping the Trains Running

Last time I wrote, I had just finished the first act of my new play.  I had done it in a relatively short amount of time and I needed a break.  It felt good to have that sort of momentum and to have these ideas I wanted to get out.  It felt good to take my time with it.  Because even though I wrote the first 62 pages in 11 days and that is fast.  I could have written it in three.  And that would have been too fast.

My attitude with my work used to be to procrastinate, procrastinate, procrastinate and then to write, write, write.  I'm now working every day.  That doesn't mean I'm writing 20 pages every day.  That's unrealistic.  But I'm researching or attentively watching TV or taking notes and sometimes I am writing a few pages.  My work day is constant.  And it is one step at a time.  Not no steps then fifty.

I had some other things to take care of.  I am setting up a new website for a new business venture.  I had some meetings and that has led to more meetings.  I needed to get caught up on some TV shows that I had been neglecting.

And now I'm back to working on this play.  I started Act Two.

I am keeping the plates spinning.  I am keeping the trains running.  The irons in the fire.  Then tonight I have to go and produce my boyfriend's internet TV show.

It keeps my brain active.  It keeps me productive.  It keeps me moving.

But that's the hard thing about a creative life.  When you're working from home or if you're cramming writing in after the day job, it's about doing a little bit every day.  And it's about consciously doing something every day.  Even going on a run to clear the mind after a work day and to make room for more thoughts is working on the writing.  As I was telling a friend of mine recently, if you don't look at all of your life as a contribution, then you'll constantly feel pulled in separate directions.  It's not a matter of changing the amount of work you're doing, it's about changing perspective.

And that ain't easy.  Let me tell you.

I am grateful that I am still moving.
I am grateful for momentum.
I am grateful for meetings.