Wednesday, September 10, 2008
A few weeks ago I met my sister and nephew in Union Square for a day of book shopping at The Strand and good vegan food. Over lunch, my nephew said his perfect day would be to write all morning and read all afternoon. I was floored by his admission, not because I thought it was wrong but because I thought how right it would be...for me. I've always said the morning is the best, most creative part of my day, when I'm feeling frisky, a little misty and spot-on with my writing. I tend to wane over the course of a day and end up a pile of mush by dinner time, unless I supplement my diet with a concoction of cinnamon, ginger, curry and hot pepper. I know it sounds somewhat bizarre but I've been diagnosed with a sluggish EVERYTHING, so these spices were prescribed to rev up my engines so I can hit my stride at almost any given point of the day. I still say that morning is best and my nephews recipe for success is just what I have always desired.
The reality of the situation is that I desperately need to bankroll my dream so I am forced to go to a job that I can perform well but have absolutely zero passion for, although there was a time, years ago, when I rushed to work each day because I felt like I was making a difference. I was helping people find their lives but those days are long gone and now I'm restricted to the mundane corporate nonsense that most Americans are subjected to on a daily basis. My spirit is barren unless I'm writing or expressing myself in some creative forum. I enjoy the solace of my home without the static of office gossip, politics and overall nasty competition that I've been exposed to for many years. It sucks the life blood from my very veins and numbs my brain, cutting off oxygen to vital organs, leaving me a total wreck. When I write, I'm free. What more can I add?
I haven't begun writing my screenplay just yet due to an internal fight that I'm experiencing with my Yin and Yang, trying to decide on a topic. I think I'm close to making a decision on the piece, but first I may try writing a script for a soap (General Hospital) to get the kinks out of my writing and maybe snag an agent in the process. It all sounds so foreign yet so familiar. I should have made the jump years ago and left academia and now that I find myself a seasoned woman in her early 40's, I'm slowly realizing that I needed the time and experience to find my voice. How can you write without varied life experiences? I've always felt like I've had a tiny voice in my head narrating each and every event in my life, not just the wet and wild of it. It's now time for that teeny weeny voice to emerge into the grand ballroom of my writing, catapulting me into the fast-forward mode of living without borders or fears.