Create Again

I've spent the past two weeks not creating. But reading and watching people create. I'm half way through the Norman Lear autobiography, Even This I Get to Experience. And I read the Betty Halbreich autobiography, I'll Drink to That. Betty's the woman who has been the head of the personal shopping department at Bergdorf Goodman for over 40 years. Then I've been watching the Foo Fighters Sonic Highways docuseries. And the Fashion Fund.

I decided that I was going to not do anything. All year I had this thing about going to work. I have been going in 30-40 hours a week for five months straight. Plus before that I had dedicated myself to getting work done on a regular basis. I don't have a regular job right now and I just jumped in with both feet. Something magical happened that allowed me to sustain myself and travel a bit and also have a home base where I could write. It just started with me dedicating myself to writing again full time. I never stopped writing, really. But it wasn't the focus of my life. First it was Dad getting sick and dying. Then it was getting through that and making the mourning my main focus. Then it was coming out of that and finally re-committing myself to writing full time as a career.

This year I started, in January. Planning to write a play. Then writing it in February. Then really hitting a stride and deciding to write a new pilot in March. Writing the bible in a week. Then the pilot in a week. Then finding out I could submit it somewhere. Then making some money to live for while. Then needing to write three things in a month and taking off. Then an office becoming available. It was like the Universe was saying to me, "I know what you're trying to do. And there's no way you're going to accomplish what you're trying to accomplish without a dedicated space." It was magical. So I got some more shit done in that space. And now it's gone because it served a purpose for a short time. Now it's time to create something else.

I can't rest on the laurels of what I've accomplished this year because the real success of the year was being productive again. And being productive on a level that I was productive when I didn't know any better. Then I started comparing myself to EVERYBODY and I lost that drive. I worked hard and got somewhere. I got to NYU. And the big lesson of NYU--and by the way, I would do it all over again because it was an amazing time and place to be studying at--was that all of a sudden I had a marker of where I was and it freaked me out. I started chasing the fruits of my labor instead of being invested in the labor. It was a big lesson. And it had to happen the way it happened.  I'm such a better person, not just a better writer after having ten years where I languished in LA.

I don't feel like I'm languishing anymore. I'm not any richer. But I don't feel like I'm directionless or lost. And that's just time and life. I remember the four years I took off between undergrad and grad school. I hadn't written much. But I became exponentially a better writer because of time and life lived.

But that's why this year was important. I cranked. People I know look at me and say, "Wow, you had an office" or "Wow you're writing a lot" or "Wow that's incredible." And it used to be hard for me to take that in. It still is in a lot of ways. But now I can acknowledge how badass that is. And I can appreciate it. I can take that in. This year was about productivity. Because that's what the business is. And that's what I've always been about. I don't take credit for the talent. I take credit for the hard work. When I got into NYU, I started to take credit for the talent because someone very important said I was good enough. The best said I was good enough. And there is always further to go. I had gotten to NYU because of hard work. I'm such a better writer now and that wasn't going to just happen by winning awards or getting accolades.

The reason the saying "You can only claim your labor, but not the fruits of your labor" is such a mantra to me--I realize now for the first time--is because that was the lesson I had to learn post NYU. It has set me free.

So here I am, five scripts later, and I'm ready to start again. That doesn't mean jump right back in to writing pages. But I've been reading and watching and resting a lot. Sleep is completely restorative and it feels good. It regenerates me. It resets my buttons.

I'm ready to create again. I can't be away from it for too long. And the work didn't even feel like work. Well, I can say that now, not having written for two weeks solid. When I'm doing it, it feels like so much work. It feels intense and incredible. It feels like UGH. But it's so necessary to my being. It nurtures my soul, but not in some sort of pansy way. I don't just daydream and romanticize about being an artist. I am an artist. But the engine that drives my art is my work ethic. I'm at it like a laborer. But my taste is artistic. My mind is creative and my hands and back are sore.

I'm ready to jump in again and get ready for the new year. I've got a fantastic new play idea that scares the shit out of me because I don't totally know how I'm going to do it yet. But that's the great thing about writing plays. I don't have to know. I start over each time. With the TV stuff, I can't start unless I know some very crucial things, namely how to make it a sustained story for several episodes a season and several seasons overall.  The screenplay this year was a total shock. A shock that I had an idea and a shock that I was able to execute it after being away from writing screenplays for ten years. But I feel that's in my arsenal now. I have a memoir I'm writing very slowly and that process excites me because I'm writing about things I have been afraid to write about.

I'm juiced and I'm jazzed.

I am grateful for all that I have learned this year.
I am grateful for all that I know.
I am grateful for knowing what kind of person I am.
I am grateful for the decisions I have made and the life I have led.
I am grateful for the ability to continue along this path.