Behind the Pages

I spent part of my Sunday watching a marathon of old "Behind the Music" episodes, that old show from VH1 that I absolutely LOVED as a kid. It was a one hour documentary series that talked about the stories behind the careers and hit songs of the biggest pop stars in history. I used to watch it when I lived in New York. It was the best. And the ones I watched today were from a revamp they did in 2010 with P!nk and Christina Aquilera. I geeked out all over again.

As I was geeking out, I thought about my own successes and failures over my lifetime and still-growing career. I love P!nk because she doesn't give a shit and she just does her own thing. She also writes some of the most searing pop songs I've ever heard. I love her music. And it made me think of this recent creative growth spurt I had - and hopefully one I'm still going through. I have been writing plays since college. They all were bad for a long time - even the ones that got me into grad school and the ones I wrote in grad school. I was all passion and no technique - reminds me of the kind of dancer I was in college - for a very long time.

Someone said to me in grad school that it felt like I was holding back. I could hear those words but I didn't know how to break out of whatever shell or whatever fear I was holding onto. I went for years like that. I tortured myself probably for another 8 years after that, trying to figure out who I was. It didn't help that I dated guys instead of doing that exploration. It didn't help that I gave up myself to an industry that didn't know who I was so it kept trying to make me the thing that sells. But I didn't have a debut album that sold 2 million copies (P!nk) or 17 million copies (Christina). I didn't have a grand introduction into the industry. I didn't have a stunning debut that I needed to prove people wrong about. My whole career has been leading up to my "M!sunderstood" album or my version of "Stripped." My life has taken its turns on a much smaller scale. But the same thing is at stake - making who I am known and laying that bare.

It wasn't until I started writing in a way that felt true to myself that things started to change. That really started with my last play, "Death and Cockroaches." If the play before that, "This is Only a Test" was my Off the Wall, Madonna or Justified, then D&C was my Thriller, Like a Virgin or FutureSexLoveSounds. The plays before that were like Janet Jackson's career before Control. They were my Janet Jackson or Beat Street. Yes, I know a lot about random pop culture.

My first musings in undergrad were ideas for plays about lounge singers and amnesia, a young adult going after his child molester, and then I wrote something that broke all convention. I decided that I wanted to do a student recital, but the theatre department wouldn't let me because I wasn't officially a major. I was only a minor. Oddly, this wouldn't be the last time I would be penalized for being a minority. And it wouldn't be the last time that I made the most of it.

The result of that effort was a collection of poems set to dance and music called "Breakthrough." I got all of my friends together - the island of misfit toys - and made something beautiful. I choreographed it myself, directed it and put it up. It was my Yentl. I wrote, directed, choreographed, produced and starred in it. It was the first time something I had created had such universal praise. My best friend from LA was there just three weeks after a tragic family loss. I felt like I had arrived as an artist.

And then I left college and completely switched gears and started doing other things. I moved to Portland and I worked for a crazy ad agency, one of the best in the world. I lived life and dated and had affairs and eventually made my way to New York where eventually I realized I wanted to write plays as a career. I was going to be a playwright. I wrote a play that immediately got me into NYU with a full scholarship and I thought I had made it. Then I wrote nothing but bad plays and bad screenplays and decent TV spec pilots. I was confused as a writer the entire time throughout graduate school, but still left thinking that my career was going to take off because I had graduated from Tisch.

Nothing happened that entire year after grad school, so I moved back to LA to pursue a TV writing career. I had written another spec script during that year and I had two comedy specs ready to go. I languished for a few months and then got a job and a manager after being in town for less than six months. Then I pursued all of my dreams while working a day job for seven years for a high level literary manager. And while I got close on a few staffing jobs and a Nickelodeon fellowship, nothing ever really materialized. I fell in love with an addict and spent my time living this grand Hollywood life, the life I had dreamed of. Now that I think about it, all of my Hollywood dreams came true. I went to parties and I travelled the world. I met famous people and flew on private jets. I really did have a stunning life. I lived in West Hollywood, wore beautiful expensive clothes and at the best meals of my life. But I was living someone else's life and forgot who I was. I went to bed at night feeling alone and like a stranger to myself.

So I left and started a new job and my life got marginally better as I sat in an office by myself reading scripts and being appreciated for the first time in a long time. Then my Dad got sick and my life changed forever and I wrote at home while he was sleeping just go keep my sanity. I had forgotten why I had started writing in the first place because I was so busy trying to be validated. I wanted to be rich and famous. But I got to live that life and I realized that it was empty. I got exactly what I thought I wanted, but I got it without earning it, without working for it and without getting acknowledged for the gifts I had inside. I thought I had blown my chance. Before my life had the chance to begin, I thought it was over. I was a petty, jealous, envious, shell of a human being and I thought that's the way I was supposed to be. I was totally competitive and rarely happy for anyone else's success because I thought their success was supposed to be my success. I was angry and bitter and I took it out on myself by drinking too much and being promiscuous when I should have been more faithful. Sure, I was always loyal, but rarely faithful.

Then my Dad died. And I didn't even know if I should be writing. It felt so empty. Actually, the thing that felt empty was the pursuit of validation. The writing continued to be bright and wonderful. And the deeper I got, the deeper my writing got. My father's death broke me open and now I just had to stand in my grief and let it wash over me. I vowed that first year to not run away from it. So I wrote. I lived. I didn't try to get another job to distract myself. I lived on unemployment until the last possible moment I could. Then I continued to be unemployed. I managed somehow. And I took some temp jobs and made some money from my former employer. I got into another relationship and took care of another person so he could pursue his dream. I made the same mistakes all over again, but didn't think so because this guy was kinder. But he still wasn't as supportive as I needed a man to be. But I didn't know that men could be supportive of me, so I wasn't looking for that. I didn't put that on my list.

During this time, I wrote two plays that I liked. They were good. They were funny. They were well constructed and they were somewhat personal. I wanted to make sense of my open relationship, so I wrote about that. And I wanted to make sense of someone's loss of faith, so I wrote about that. Also, after my Dad died I started writing about death. And everything I have written since has had a death in it or it spoke about death. But nothing happened with those plays. And then I got frustrated. And then I got irreverent.

So I sent in a proposal for a play that I wanted to write. I had seen a report on MSNBC about active shooter drills and it made me angry. It also inspired me because the idea felt so theatrical - these shooting reenactments. I knew it would involve a large cast - at the time, I thought eight. I knew it wouldn't be producible. I didn't care. I wrote a proposal that expressed my frustration and said that I didn't know what the fuck I was going to write because I haven't written it yet. But these are the stories I wanted to express. I wrote about the story I knew I didn't want to write. I was very clear about that. But maybe because I didn't give a fuck, I got accepted into this program to develop my play for eight months. And I poured myself into it. For the first time in a long time, I only focused on myself. I was working hard and putting in the hours. I was meditating, watching my diet, working out, and only working on this project for eight months. And while I was doing that my relationship fell apart because it was only sustained by my efforts to keep it going when it shouldn't have kept going. Once I didn't have the energy to give, we drifted apart and then we broke up. But the play I wrote was a triumph that didn't do what everyone said it would do. It got no awards or attention or a production. It didn't make me the playwright the world would know.

But it did a lot. It taught me to fight for my vision. It taught me to not be afraid to be unpopular. It taught me who to fight with and who not to fight with. It taught me that I could not get into trouble for fighting. It taught me to be the leader and custodian of my own play. It taught me to love actors and to encourage them. It taught me to love and encourage my director. And it taught me to fuck everyone else. Seriously, fuck them. They don't matter. They don't know my vision. They can go fuck themselves. And my play was the better for it. We had an incredible reading and I was proud of the work. But it did nothing for my theatre career.

After the break up, I got the opportunity to submit to a show my friend was running. After some initial encouragement, she had bad news: the execs didn't want to hire someone who had never worked in TV before for a web series. But she could get my work to them, other than that I was on my own. And I submitted this play which was the perfect sample. I got the job - one month after my break up. And then I wrote three episodes and got to be on set and got into the Writers Guild. I finally got the thing I had always wanted - and I was still struggling and trying to make ends meet - but this felt amazing. I knew I could do it again and I did again the following year when I got promoted to Co-Producer and wrote two more episodes.

But then I was also too busy to bask in any of that glory because I had just written something truly special. I went back four years to when my Dad was sick and I moved home to take care of him. I had finally been able to write about that time in my life with the utmost truth and honesty and in the crass, inappropriate, irreverent voice I had been developing all of my life. I started the play in October the previous year when everyone was telling me how brilliant the other play was and how it was going to do all of these brilliant things for my theatre career. I didn't want to listen or be swayed or be disappointed when that didn't happen. So I kept writing. And then I wrote something even more personal and moving. And when I finished it, while I was working on the show, the theatre company I had been working with in their writers group called me to talk about something. Then we had lunch and they offered me a workshop for the play. And I said yes. And then they said they wanted me to join the company and I couldn't believe it. I had the theatre community I had always wanted. I had a place where I could develop my own work and I could get something produced because I was going to produce it. It would set my voice free in ways that I couldn't even imagine. I'm going to write plays with the freedom that I can have a workshop whenever I want it. And I can have people read new pages. I wouldn't have to depend on anyone to make my career happen.

I also discovered a new dream on set. I realized that I want to direct - or at least try my hand at it. So I directed a play workshop this year and the company liked it. And I'm hoping to direct it next year. Along with getting ready for my production next year. I might be directing a play for the company and having a play produced. While keeping my career moving along. I wrote a TV spec pilot that I love. I'm teaching three classes this semester at SDSU where I've been teaching for four semesters. I'm finally qualified to apply for any full time teaching jobs, if I so choose to do so. But most importantly, my dreams have gotten bigger.

I have a new goal to direct a TV show when I get my own show on the air. In order to do that I have to start directing plays and short films - so I have new things to look forward to. I have always wanted to start choreographing dance again and maybe one day I'll get the chance. But I was never a great dancer. And I am a great writer - I have that natural gift. So directing seems like the obvious choice for me to explore and to use the skills of visual storytelling I used as a choreographer back in college. things re coming full circle.

Yes, I still want to get that next TV job. That is a goal. But in order to get there I have to continue to write interesting TV spec pilots. And while I was trying to figure out what I was going to write next based on an idea I have, I started writing out a treatment for another brand new idea. And that's going to be big and bold and fun to write. It's about a golden age in Hollywood. And it's about our social morays in another time. I also now understand that I have this other idea that has taken longer to figure out what it is. And some ideas are just like that. Some ideas don't pop out shiny because some ideas aren't shiny, but they still should get written. And it doesn't matter if none of these are produced or none of these get me jobs because these are the stories I have to write. These are the stories that are coming out of me As much as my Dad's death broke me open, writing "Death and Cockroaches" broke me open as a writer. I say it all of the time and it is so true.

More than anything, I'm excited about what's to come. I'm excited to get to know this new writer who I have become as a result of that play. That play will have reverberations in my career from this moment forward. I am a changed spirit because of that play. And the greater news is that I get to see that play produced next year. This year, I'm working on new pages. Next year, I hope to work more in TV as I have a produced play and direct another produced play. I honestly don't know when I'll be writing my next play, which I already have planned out. It's something smaller, three characters. But I know that it's my next play. However, right now I have these two TV ideas to get out and I have another idea right behind that one, which I would like to develop with someone. I'd like to start pitching ideas in addition to writing them. I love writing new spec pilots. I don't want to stop that to pitch. I want to do both. But I would love to get paid to write a pilot.

Like I said, the dream gets bigger. Now I know what it takes to do the things I want to do. I feel so much more fully formed in order to do the things I want to do. I have more control over my career than I ever have. And I'm looking for a creative partner, in a new agent, to help me get there and to share my vision. I also am looking to share my life with someone ambitious and fun. And maybe the cosmic joke is that it IS another writer. Who the fuck knows?

But I just want to continue to be open and available to the surprise of life, which is exactly the thing I've been aspiring to for a long time - to let the Universe dream a bigger dream than I can for myself. It's all pretty incredible. And now I just need to be ready for the next surprise.

My intention is to be surprised.
My intention is to be open.
My intention is to be clear.
My intention is to love what I do.

I am grateful for the wonderful opportunities over the past 18 months.
I am grateful for every bit of this journey.
I am grateful for the love in my life.
I am grateful that the future looks so bright and so hopeful.

Breaks are Important/Gratitude in Action

I'm going to Portland in a few days for two weeks.

Play time. That's on the agenda. Plus some research for a pilot I'm working on. But not too much other than that. I want to see friends. I want to eat well. I want to drink beer. But mostly I want to play with my niece and nephews. I want to have story time. I want to have chill time. I want to have dance parties. And I want to sing.

I want to be a kid basically for two weeks.

The professor needs some lessons from his tiny little professors. I want to have the permi-smiles they have on their faces. I want to be as curious as they are. I want to be as engaged and as present. I aspire to that every single day I breathe life on this planet. Frankly, I think I do a decent job at that. But they're even better at it because they're kids. And I want to reflect that back to them so that they never let that go.

I'm healthier than I've ever been, mentally and physically. Sure, I've got some extra weight on these bones that I'd like to let go of. But it's nothing major or life-threatening. It's purely aesthetic. I've got a nice strong face. I have legs that get me around and arms that help me lift things. I can drive in my car. I can make my way around.

When I'm in Portland, I'm going to be able to take the kids out for ice cream and go on walks with them. I will be able to teach them dance moves. One thing I want to make sure we do when I'm in town is make time for story time. I want them to take the story I tell them and build on it. It would be great if I could share with them my love of storytelling in some concrete way. My job is to engage my imagination.

That's why I'm thankful for what I do. I get to engage my imagination and get paid for it. I get paid for keeping my mind sharp and for telling stories that don't often get to be told. I get paid for being socially conscious and aware. I get paid for representing my people in my work. I get paid for speaking my mind and speaking truth to power. I'd love for them to know that that's possible.

My work inspires me. Both my playwriting and my TV writing. I'm working on a pilot that is about my personal awakening. And it's going to be great storytelling and funny as well. I've had the great fortune of learning the craft of TV writing in kind of a crash course in two years. I'm incredibly fortunate to be able to take what I learn and spread the good cheer. I have such great colleagues in the theatre world as well. Gosh, I'm incredibly fortunate to do what I do. And I want to do more of it.

My intention is growth.
My intention is to spread the word.
My intention is to be truthful.
My intention is to speak truth to power.
My intention is to be myself.
My intention is to be free.

I am grateful for the meetings I have set up.
I am grateful for the friends I have supporting me.
I am grateful for the opportunities in front of me.
I am grateful for time I get to spend with my family.
I am grateful for the kind of life I am setting up for myself.

Hard to Believe

Last night, I was out an an event for a theatre company I worked with in New York that is expanding its presence here in LA.

I saw a bunch of people, but I also caught up with an old boss of mine. We talked about what I'm up to and what he's up to - his clients are behind six pilots this year that are waiting for pick ups. I just finished up year two on my show as a Co-Producer this year. He looked at me, proud. I said that this is what I've been wanting to do for so long. I also help run a theatre company. And I teach. I'm hitting every area I've wanted to be involved in.

Seven years ago I was working for him. And I had worked there for seven years. I wanted to do this for so long and sometimes I forget to be grateful. I get caught up in everything I have to do and all the demands I feel are made on me. About six years ago this June I got off the hamster wheel of the business. I was tired of running on the treadmill of trying to make it with little success. It led me down a path of falling back in love with writing and having success with this version of myself. And in order to do that, I had to get back on the treadmill. It's different this time around because I understand my value in a way I didn't previously. I'm presenting a version of myself that's more truthful and therefore more vulnerable.

But to get there a lot of things had to happen over several years. Five years ago, my Dad died. That changed my priorities completely. It also opened me up to the idea that life could be whatever I decided to make it. It also unlocked a fierceness in me that I hadn't allowed to be present before. I could be a motherfucker - and I kind of liked it. My father would say that prepared me for a life in this business. He would be happy that I've got a dickish side to me for sure. It means that no one fucks with me. Four years ago, I stopped going to weekly therapy. I was still dealing with my grief. I decided that I would take my grief on and deal with it head on. Fortunately, I was on unemployment and managed to stretch the finances a bit. Three years ago, I decided to make room for writing on a serious level. I both decided to become more of a professional and at the same time opened myself up to the possibility that writing would just be something I loved to do and that's all it had to be. During my Dad's illness it became a means of survival. And if that's all it was, that would be fine. I would find another way to make money. I had an office for about six months. I started subbing for a friend of mine at San Diego State. I also seriously started meditating. I wrote five scripts that year. Two years ago, I spent time working on a new play and would constantly say to friends, "I don't care if this thing gets produced." I spent eight months working on it. I made no money that year. I decided I needed to mix things up and applied to all sorts of jobs. I was trying to get teaching gigs, but couldn't get arrested. I almost got a job in Portland as a literary manager at a theatre. I was ready to leave LA for new adventures. I was committed to finding work. But nothing was happening, so I kept working on the play. That play was fantastic and would end up getting me my first TV job the following year. It opened up a lot of doors. It also helped me grow as a writer.

Last year, I got my first TV job. I wrote another play that broke me open as a human being, about the year spent with my Dad while he was dying. I was asked to join a theatre company. It was a big year of transition. I broke up with my boyfriend of four and a half years. I found out he started dating someone a month after we broke up. Last year was such a banner year and so many things happened that were unexpected. I also joined the WGA last year. I wrote two episodes of our show, which became three episodes of our show after our finale, which I wrote, became two episodes. I got single credit for all three of those episodes.

So when I say I can't believe that I'm here, it's true. But I have to break it down like I just did to experience the gratitude that comes with knowing I've accomplished so much in the past seven years. I decided to live my truth. I decided to live by my own rules and it took me a long road to get there. But I am grateful for every year, month, week, day, hour, minute and second of that journey. I'm truly grateful for all of it because each moment is etched in my DNA. I have to remember the road because it makes me appreciate everything happening now. When I was on the hamster wheel before, I didn't know how good I had it. I had never lived a life where I could appreciate my accomplishments.

I remember finding a certificate years ago when we were going through my Dad's things. The certificate acknowledged that I had been in the top 1% of all applicants to my high school that year as an eighth grader. I was in the 99th percentile of everyone who had applied that year. I remember finding that and wondering why I had lived my life up to that point as the bottom one percent versus the top one percent. I wanted to be that person. That was a goal.

And now I live that. I sometimes forget. But I mainly try to live as that person. I am a fucking Co-Producer on a TV show and if I don't appreciate it, how can I expect anyone else to? I'm a baller, a shot caller. Actually, I'm a freeballer. I'm  reminded of that whenever I meet with my students. I had a student last year ask me, "How does it feel?" How does what feel, I asked him back. "How does it feel to be doing the thing you set out to do. How does that feel?"

I was blown away by the question. I was humbled that he saw me that way. And then I realized he was right. I did do the things I set out to do. I continue to do the things I set out to do. I will get the next job and the next one after that and I will relish those experiences - both good and bad.  When I meet people, they're impressed. And that's okay. Sometimes I'll wish I was further along or I'll down play an accomplishment and then someone will say to me, "I wish I was where you are."

It shouldn't be hard to believe. It should be hard not to lose it with gratitude. It should be hard not to burst into tears. And sometimes I do that too.

Last year, at the reading of my Dad play, I was receiving a round of applause. I was embarrassed, as I usually am. And then a friend of mine gave me a thumbs up, like they were saying, "You did it." I LOST IT. I burst into tears for two minutes and I couldn't stop. I wrote something that meant something to people. I also became the person capable of writing that play. I put everything into it and when I was done, I cried uncontrollably. It was really overwhelming. In that moment, I was living like that one percenter. I was so grateful I had stopped being afraid.

And that's sometimes hard to believe. That I let go of that fear. But I did and now it's time to move on and do the next great thing.

My intention is to feel.
My intention is to grow.
My intention is to be okay.
My intention is to smile through it.

I am grateful for the two years I've been on our show.
I am grateful that people listen to me.
I am grateful to be a leader among friends.
I am grateful to be loved.
I am grateful that my life is the life of my choosing.

My Mom's Never Seen Anything I've Done

My story isn't the story of the supportive family that has seen everything I've done. My friend Elizabeth had her family fly out to see her short ten minute play and as she was telling me about it, I felt like this is a regular occurrence. I'm not saying my family isn't proud. I'm not saying that my mother doesn't want to see my work. I kind of keep it away from her. Well, I tried not include her last year in a play reading I had. She ended up canceling at the last minute. I'm sure that soured me to the idea of including her.

Some of my reluctance probably has to do with PTSD from being a kid and not feeling understood. I felt like an alien in my family and eventually it just felt better to stay on my planet. But tonight, Mom came to the show. I was featured in an evening of ten-minute plays. I wasn't nervous about her seeing the show. But I think I wanted her to see something more substantial. My play's good and it's an effective, cute ten-minute play. But I know that I have another, more recent play that's much more of who I am. I didn't let her come to that reading because I was nervous. I don't think I was ready to have my Mom see something that personal.

So maybe this was the perfect introduction. My Mom said a lot of people came up to her and said she had a very talented son. It's strange, but I kind of have no reaction to that. I've got the most supportive friends. And people who really respect me. But it's honestly a little embarrassing to have people say that about me to my Mom. I don't think that's a great thing. But it just happens to be the way I react. I'm thrilled my friends have said such nice things. I wonder if it's that obvious that I need that sort of validation. Probably. I'm pretty transparent.

I'm learning to be more open with my family about my work. I've written about them, so I guess I'll have to confront my fears more directly. I've written a play about my family and that felt so exposing whenI did it. I never really pictured any of my family seeing the play. Ironically, that might be the play they see first. I guess I want my family to be proud of me. But honestly, I probably want my peers to like my work more than I want my family to. Those are the people I get nervous around.

At my last reading, it meant a lot that my peers showed up for me and were really moved. Those are the folks who I want validation from. The important part to me was that my Mom had a good time and got to meet my friends. At the end of the day, I wasn't nervous because I know my Mom loves me anyway. I know that whatever I do, she's proud of. I know she was happy to be there and happy to be there as my Mom. That's what's great about Mom's. They're going to support their kids because that's their kid doing their thing. I should be more grateful and not expect my mom to be my critic. Because it's not going to happen. I already have an inner critic. And plenty of outer critics. The question becomes:

Why do I need so much criticism? Why do I seek it out?

My intention is to silence the critics.
My intention is to be kinder to myself.
My intention is to be more grateful.

I am grateful for my Mom's support.
I am grateful for great friends.
I am grateful for the opportunities I've been given this year.

This Is the Part Where I Break Free...

That's a line from an Ariana Grande song that I'm obsessed with.  I listen to it when I'm spinning or in the gym. I listen to it when I'm writing and I need to liberate myself somehow. I'm often trying to pump myself up somehow to get to the gym or to sit in front of the computer and write. More often than not, it's hard to muster up the courage to write or do anything productive.

My friends will say that I am a pretty productive guy and I get things done. They'll say that this self-depricating stuff is bullshit - that I'm a beast when it comes to getting shit done. And that's partially true. I am so aware of the Resistance and I try to overcome it that the energy translates into productivity. When procrastination and worry and fear - the agents of Resistance - are around, you have to take them seriously. They are formidable opponents. So I am aware of how hard it is to create work and how much of a miracle it is when it happens.

And when you're productive, something magical happens. The muse shows up. But it's the routine action of showing up that gets her to show up. Last year, I wrote a play that people liked. I had developed it with a local theatre and I had a series of readings, culminating in a big one in September. Once people started saying things like "this is going to get produced" or "someone's going to do this play", I put plugs in my ears and ran away. There was such a high expectation for this thing I had created. So I walked into my writer's group and I brought in pages for a new play.

Much to my surprise, that was well-received. Then I finished the play at the end of February. I gave it to the head of the writer's group to have him read it. Then the theatre committed to a summer workshop. And they asked me to join the company.

That workshop happened this month. And the reading happened yesterday. I've been working on this play pretty hard during the past week. That's why I've been doing my K Spa Writing Tour for the past week. I knew that I had to bring it. There were notes and suggestions my actors made and I knew that if I didn't make the proper changes, I was going to be angry at myself. I can't sit in an audience thinking about the things I should have changed.

My director sent me an email today saying that she heard the play as if it was for the first time yesterday. That sums up perfectly how I felt. I don't know what happened. But it felt like a blur. From the jump, there was something magical and exciting about that reading. We worked with our lead actor for an hour on Friday just on the opening monologue. I knew that if we didn't nail that moment, then we wouldn't have had our audience. I knew we needed an hour to work with him - and thankfully, we were all available. Once we ran through the monologue - and the actors started coming in for their call time for rehearsal - I could hear it. I knew that we had something. And I knew that with an audience, it would be on fire.

We had a packed house. About 50 or so people. We only had 24 people RSVP'd to come. I was hoping that people would show up. And they did, in huge numbers. All of a sudden, I looked around and felt like I needed to grab a seat or I wasn't going to have one. And just like that, we were off to the races. And our lead actor nailed it. He had the audience in the palm of his hand. The scenes were fast and lean. The performances were high octane. The laughs were big. And the emotions were big too. I don't think we timed it, but there's no way that was over 90 minutes. And if it was, it flew.

When it was all over, the audience cheered. I turned to my friends, who said they were proud of me. And then I lost it and cried my eyes out. I couldn't stop crying for what felt like two minutes. I just released all of it. I cried because my friends were there and they were proud of me. That means everything. It's also the thing I sought from my Dad and I couldn't get from him. So for my friends to so openly tell me how much they loved it and love me…that was enough for me to cry like a baby. Fortunately, that was all broken up when we needed to take a cast photo.

But then…my best friend David came up to me with tears in his eyes. David lost his mom this year. And he said it felt so familiar. And he told me he was proud of me. I lost it again. I cried in his arms. We cried in each other's arms. Then he said the magic words, "And it was fucking funny."  I had nailed the emotional stuff, but the play works because it's so funny too. I had a few exchanges like that with people who got emotional. I'm so glad the play touches people. And then I started hearing predictions, which are aways flattering and way nice. But it also makes me freak out.

Does that mean it's time to start on something new? I don't know. I have no ideas. I'm taking a different approach this time. I'm going to lean into it. This play should be done everywhere. It should have a big world premiere somewhere. I would love our theatre company to do it, but it might involve a lot of hoop jumping to figure out a way for us to do it. It's not a natural fit for our site specific theatre company. But there might be ways for it to work. The thing I don't want to do is force a square peg into a round hole and hurt the play.

Something happened to me in the writing of this play. I can honestly say I would not have been ready to write this play until now. I can feel myself getting better as a playwright through writing this play. The play I wrote last year also had this effect on me. As epic as that play was, this play is so deeply personal. Last year's play is amazing because it does so much and there's a play within a play inside of it. It takes huge leaps. And I took even bigger leaps on this play. I thought I was ready before. I am ready now. This is the person I want to present to the world.

My intention is to take a leap.
My intention is to take a leap.
My intention is to take a leap.

I am grateful for the support of all of my friends.
I am grateful for the love.
I am grateful for my friend David who makes me feel loved.

2016 Intention: Better Communication in my Relationship

I could say "I want better communication in all of my relationships." Because I think it extends beyond my relationship with my boyfriend. My brother and I had a huge fight when I was visiting and I fully engaged with him in the struggle of who's going to win. My relationship with my father growing up was about who was going to win the argument. Someone needs to be right, which makes the other person wrong by default. That's how I learned to communicate, by being defensive and angry.

I have taken that into my relationship with me. And it's how my family communicates. It's a constant tug of war over who needs to be wrong so someone can be right. It's exhausting and unnecessary. This is a byproduct of how we were raised and I want it to end. I carry it and it has been destructive to my relationship. But when my brother and I get together and we engage in that dynamic, it gets nasty fast. It gets elevated. And it gets serious. I didn't like that argument. I didn't like that I went there. And I didn't like that I ended up convulsing in tears because it took me back to a place that was very hurtful. And it proved that if someone makes themselves the winner, then someone will be the loser. And in that situation, in tears, I was the loser. Of that game.

But I won't apologize or feel bad for being vulnerable and showing that. Vulnerability's big for me. It's a hard hurdle to jump over. And I just showed myself, however that got interpreted. But bringing it back to communication, it's important for me to listen. Just as important as it's important for me to be heard. Sometimes I feel like that's not the case and I go to a deep place immediately when I feel like I am not being listened to. It's a deep sensitive subject for me.

I want to have better communication with my boyfriend. I hope that's something we can build on. It would be nice to connect to each other in a way that feels good for both of us.

I am grateful for my vulnerability.
I am grateful for the person I am becoming.
I am grateful for the friends around me who support that.
I am grateful for the love I have in my life.
I am grateful that I have a boyfriend who support me.

Sympathy, Acceptance, Mediation, The Ugly Cry and Oprah

I had a good cry this morning.

Damn you, Oprah!  It's all your fault.

I got into the office this morning to prepare for my friend Tory who's coming to write with my today.  I arrived before nine, there was only one other car in the lot.  I unlocked our gate.  And I did my ritual: water for the tea kettle, washed my mug and sat down to look at my meditation for the day.

I am doing Oprah and Deepak's 21 Day Meditation Challenge that's all about finding joy.  Yes, I am a Super Souler.  I watch Super Soul Sunday reruns.  I'm an OWN viewer.  I am Eric and I'm an Oprahholic.  It's true.

So today's meditation is Day 18: Radiating Compassion.  I like compassion.  I feel compassionate.  I hope I radiate.  I read the email they sent and read the centering thought, which I will use as my mantra in today's meditation:

I radiate sympathy and acceptance.

I look at the mug I brought in from my mom's house over the weekend.  My tarot reading said that I need to bring items from home into my personal space.  My most personal space is my office.  Dad had this mug that someone gave him when I was a little kid and I've always loved it.  I would always drink out of it when I could, even when he was alive.  It's a short little white mug, nothing oversized, with his name on it: Danny (in Old English letters).  Then two red dice.  And the words Las Vegas (also in Old English red letters).  

I turn on my timer and I close my eyes.  I repeat the phrase over and over and over again.  I can hear the water boiling in my hot water kettle.  This usually gets me through the first part of my meditation.  I love hearing that sound of the water getting hot.  At some point during my meditation, I really fixate on those words: I radiate sympathy and acceptance.  I decide to think about those words, what they mean to me, and how they show up in my life.  For some reason, I get the voice of Iyanla Vanzant in my head.  She says, "Let's think about that."  Okay.  I don't know what Iyanla's doing my my head right now during my meditation.  I thought I only had room for Oprah and Deepak.  Get your own meditation challenge, Iyanla!  

But I did take a moment to pause and think about that.  Then I thought again about the word: Compassion.  What does that mean to me?  When I talk about my Dad now, the big thing I mention is that the healing that happened when I was sick was because I offered compassion to someone who I never felt had it for me.  Now in my meditation, that hit deep.  I thought about sympathy.  That wasn't there for me either.  Then I thought about acceptance.  I never felt acceptance from him.  But I did offer him compassion and wasn't that a good thing for me to do.

Then something else creeped up.  I have been doing a lot of work on my self lately in the area of accepting my self as I am.  I have been working on getting whole.  I give gratitude every day and especially every time I write a blog post.  I end my posts with statements of what I am grateful for.  Once I accepted my father, had sympathy for him, and offered compassion to him, I finally had acceptance, sympathy and compassion for myself.  

Once I offered compassion to someone who didn't have it for me, I was finally able to have compassion for myself.

Oh God.  I started to tear up.  I went back to Iyanla's voice: "Let's think about that."  My throat got tight.  The tears started to roll down my cheeks.  My face was contorting into the ugly cry.  I think this is what is referred to as having an "a-ha moment."  I just let the tears come.  I let the realization hit me.  I had never really had compassion for myself until after my Dad died.  And it wasn't because he died. But it is because I finally offered him compassion.  He was hard on me, so I was hard on myself.  Nothing was never good enough for him, so nothing was ever good enough for me.  And this simple thing of doing the opposite worked.  It was a two way street.  If he could give me negative messages, they could affect me negatively.  But if I had something positive, it could trickle up.  And it did.  And he finally had compassion before he died.  And sympathy.  And understanding.  And acceptance.  And peace.  I had done that.  But just as importantly, because I had done that for him, I had done it for myself.  I don't live under a dark cloud of self loathing any more.  Yes, I have my days where I am ridiculously hard on myself.  But the love, the compassion, the sympathy and the acceptance comes through first.  My drive is based in that now and not based on knocking myself down in order to pick myself up.

The feeling passed through me.  My breathing got more steady.  My a-ha moment was pretty disruptive, but felt wonderful when it passed through.  That was something I had known for a long time, but it hadn't coalesced until now.  

Then I thought about how that is tied to today.  To what I'm doing today.  

I am writing a screenplay.  The first screenplay I have written since graduate school, which is a while.  I had an idea for this play about my life growing up and my obsession with Woody Allen.  And I got the opportunity to write it as a screenplay in order to apply for a spot in the Sundance Screenwriting Lab.  It's really about the transformative power of art.  It's about how I became the person I am.  It's my origin story, in a way.  It's also about how I met my best friend Alanna, who I've been friends for since we were wee little kids.  That all sounds wonderful, right?  The story of how I came to be this wonderful person I am today: creative, smart, curious, artistic.  All of that sounds so lovely.  But the story of how I became who I am is the story of a fearful, tough, mean, abusive guy.  My father.  He was hard on me and said pretty rough things to me because, in his mind, he was making me tough to handle the world.  He was tearing me down to be built back up.  That's the origin of what came before all of the compassion.  I am writing this story honestly.  Not everything that happens in the screenplay happened to me.  But the emotional truth is there.  I don't think I was prepared to write about my parents fighting or getting hit with a belt or the pain of being eleven and disappointing the only person you want to please.  I don't wrap everything up neatly, either.  I don't have the perfect relationship with my Dad at the end of the screenplay.  I had to find something that worked for me.  I had to find what made me feel better and that's where my best friend's family came into my life.  It's a love letter really to all four of the parents in my life, mine and Alanna's.  And it makes me emotional.

So as I get ready to start my rewrite this morning, the Universe (and Oprah and Deepak) gave me a gift.  To focus on that compassion.  Because while I have to tell the truth of what happened and who my Dad was to me, I also know why now.  I am able to have sympathy for him without rewriting history.  This is what I have been working on personally and now I get to put it into my work.  That's a gift.

I am grateful for a good cry.

I am grateful to be in a state of mind where I am open.

I am grateful for the lessons of my childhood.

I am grateful for my struggles.

I am grateful for my pain.

I am grateful for the ability to write about it.

I am grateful for the access I have to my personal truth.

I am grateful for my sense of humor about it all.

I am grateful for the survival quality of that humor.

I am grateful to be able to laugh about it and have sympathy and compassion about it now.

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.

Travel Blog: Putting It Together, Part I

I have been away for a week, spending time with family, so I have a lot of saved up thoughts that I want to get out in a series of blog posts.  So while these aren't fresh thoughts, they're not exactly moldy either.  I hopefully my perspective from being away from Los Angeles for a week is a fresh one.

So enjoy this barrage of posts from my travels…

Besides coming to town to celebrate my brother's accomplishments and to hang out with my niece and nephew, I had a meeting with the head of the theatre department at Portland State University.  We had met over the summer at a theatre festival and started talking about her interest in starting an MFA program in Dramatic Writing at PSU.  So when I knew I was coming to town, I got in touch with her and we sat down for a conversation about what I could possibly bring to the table.
 
I'm firmly committed to teaching on the University level.  I don't want that to negate my pursuit of a television writing career, but I also feel like I need to be better as a writer.  Not for the industry and not to prove myself to anyone other than myself.  I think that teaching will help me focus on the aspects of craft I already know, by teaching them to students.  And I think that getting the opportunity to workshop some of my plays in an academic setting where I have access to a theatre and enthusiastic actors who want to learn from my process will do nothing but catapult me forward.  Forward into what, exactly?  Well, not just fame and fortune because I realize that both are elusive and not goals that have much reward on a deeper level.  I've been out in LA for ten years and my pursuit of those things primarily has left me pretty empty.  I just want to be satisfied by the work I'm doing and to let the rest of it figure itself out.  I've got a lot of attributes that would make me an excellent successful and rich TV writer/producer, but whether or not that happens isn't up to me.  I'm learning to let that go.

So teaching isn't just me cowering with my tail between my legs.  It's a chance at a career that's deeply satisfying on an artistic and spiritual level.  As long as I have that, I can figure out the money stuff.  I didn't have any expectations from this meeting, but I was curious.  It was finals week, so our meeting would have to take place in her office instead of us going to get coffee somewhere as planned.  No worries.  I threw my coat down, smiled and started chatting.  She initially forgot why we were meeting.  No problem.  I reminded her that I was there to talk about this MFA program she was thinking about setting up.  She relaxed a bit.

In talking about my background and what I felt I brought to the table, I noticed that she started taking notes.  I should be clear that I was basically walking in and I started talking about a job that didn't exist and that I never expressed explicitly that I was applying for. But the old saying goes that you should just start doing the job that you want.  In this case, I started interviewing for the job that I want.  The new agey types call this manifesting.  I'm not shy about using that term.  That's exactly what I've been doing.

There are no opportunities out there for me on the horizon.  I'm applying for jobs.  And I'm writing.  But I also know that my unemployment insurance is running out very shortly and instead of moping about that, I just have to start moving in the direction I want to be in.  And if money is any indication of where I want to put my energy, I spent money on this trip to Portland to seek out an opportunity.  I took time out from my regularly scheduled life of freelancing to put my energy towards something I really want to pursue and think I'd be good at: putting together an MFA program.

I'm not saying that she wants my help or thinks that my expertise would be useful. But I know what I'm good at and I know what background I have.  But I won't do it for free.  I need a commitment at some point soon, if there's even a possibility.  I know my value.

So we continued to talk about the way I approach teaching and playwriting.  She asked if I could send her some syllabi and I agreed to do that.  At the end of the conversation, I offered to come up and do a master class or a workshop if there was ever any need.  She came back and said that maybe we could try out a summer course if there was the budget for it.  That was a better result than I expected.

When I got back to my brother's house, after meeting up with a friend, I saw that I had an email from her thanking me for the meeting and expressing that we should talk mid-January about any possibilities for the summer and beyond.  I saw that as a good sign.  I had made an impression.  It went as good as it could have.

But I'm not closed off to just that opportunity.  I think that would be a thrilling opportunity for me because I could be in on the genesis of a new MFA program and I could be close to my brother and his family.  Both amazing prospects that fulfill me on a professional and a personal level.  I do feel like someone in our family should be close to the kids and I think that would make my brother feel great.  But more importantly, I feel like I'm putting the energy into being a playwright in academia, so if the opportunity includes the job in Atlanta or the job in Iowa (or any other positions that come up), then I'm sending my intentions to the Universe.  If the opportunities also include workshopping plays at various summer play festivals, to support my work as a playwright, then it all adds up to making this an even better opportunity and it shifts the energy into one of productivity, creativity and optimism.  I think I'm already heading in that direction, but these opportunities support that.

I feel like the Universe is conspiring in small ways that could go unnoticed, but are propelling me forward.

Travel Blog: There's a Doctor in the House

I have been away for a week, spending time with family, so I have a lot of saved up thoughts that I want to get out in a series of blog posts.  So while these aren't fresh thoughts, they're not exactly moldy either.  I hopefully my perspective from being away from Los Angeles for a week is a fresh one.

So enjoy this barrage of posts from my travels…

December 6, 2013

I flew in to Portland, Oregon for a week to visit my brother who was receiving his doctorate.  Well, that's a bit presumptuous.  He would be receiving his doctorate as long as he defended his thesis properly.  This is the culmination of a six year journey for my brother.  In that time, he got married to his long time girlfriend, had two kids (a third is on the way), bought his first house, sold it and then bought his second house.  Also, our grandmother and our father died in that time as well.  So his graduate career has been fraught with a lot of upheaval.  But here he was coming in for a landing and his original family (my mother and I) flew up to watch him defend his thesis.

Of course, we knew that we weren't going to understand a single thing.  My brother works in the field of Immunology and Infectious Diseases.  But even the title of his talk was confusing:

Characterization of the CD8 T Cell Response to a Replication-deficient Murine Cytomegalovirus Infection

Proof positive that my brother is a smartie.  I won't break down the finer details of his talk here, but I will say that it was remarkable to watch my brother with a command of his subject matter and a full grasp of his knowledge and abilities.  In other words, he knows his shit.  So even though I and my mother (to a larger degree) had no idea what he was talking about, it freed us both up to watch the observations of those around him.  And those around him were raptured by his talk.  My brother has an unassuming presence.  He's a brilliant guy but he doesn't throw that in someone's face to try and alienate them.  In a way, we're similar because we don't want to push people away with our knowledge and expertise.  His talk had a tone of that, but it was completely grounded in his knowledge.

At the end of his talk, he made a list of acknowledgements and at the very end acknowledged his family for their support.  He kind of grazed over my parents (or maybe that was my perception) and talked about our relationship.  He said we were like "twinsies" and that no one understood him as much as I did, which makes sense since we spent 15 years sharing a room together.  I teared up, of course.

After his talk, he went into a private session and then we gathered for an informal reception for him (which I ended up catering, but that's a boring story).  At the reception, my mom and I both talked to a bunch of his professors and the folks on his thesis committee.  My Mom was so proud because everyone commented about what a compassionate person my brother is.  I chatted with a bunch of people about playwriting and an upcoming meeting I had at Portland State.  On the drive home, Mom said that people told her that she should be proud with both of her sons.  I'm glad she got that recognition because she both deserves it and I think needs it.

It was clear to me after watching my brother talk that we were in fact opposite sides of the same coin.  He's a scientist and I'm an artist.  But our experiences were very similar in how we navigate through worlds that initially were foreign to us.  We have both made our way in worlds that we were not born into, financially and academically.  But we have a serious commitment to our personal history and the road that got us to where we are today.  It makes me proud to know that I've got someone in my life who understands me that severely.  I think his mind works out puzzles in a way that mine doesn't.  But I'm articulate and I grasp language in a way that he doesn't.  He's involved in the world of academia and I might be heading back there as a professor if things go the way I want them to.  It's remarkable how much overlap there is in our experiences.  And that's why we will always be close because even though we are different people with different interests and abilities, we ended up on journeys that mirror each other.  And in a time of deep uncertainty, it's comforting to know that there is someone there who understands.