Rowing Toward Success

Finding just the right words can seem impossible when sitting in front of a blank page.  I wonder how Hemingway did it, and on a friggin' typewriter no less.

Still, I yearn to put together timeless, perfect words.  Eloquence that will fly like an arrow in the precise arc necessary to unify the heartbeats of an audience. 

Words that will keep an audience riveted precisely long enough to feel a particular emotion or understand a specific point of view.

Finding those words will be, for me, the peak of artistic success.  It is the point, way far away on the horizon, toward which I row with mild optimism. 

Of course, commercial success, which usually requires talented writing as a base, would also be nice... but whether a work stands the test of time often depends on how much money is spent to make it visible, as well as on the timing of promotional efforts. 

Even if these things happen just right, the effectiveness of words on a page can get muddled by layers of context and subtext, not to mention by interpretive choices made by an actor, director, or editor. 

Writing that transcends all of these factors is what I hope to put forth in the world, even though a consensus of opinion about its merits might not occur until well after I'm gone.  

I believe that whatever ultimately happens is bigger than me - that the end result of artistic efforts is unknowable by anyone - and so the joy I get from the creative process, from taking artistic risks, is the only payoff I should expect.

If a typhoon comes, I'm screwed.  But I do have oars.  And making it across the ocean is only possible if I keep rowing.

Remember That You Get to Choose

Shit happens, right?  When something happens that you didn't expect and don't like, try to remember that YOU get to assign meaning to whatever is happening. You get to choose how to feel.

When my first marriage was failing, I faced the situation without a support system.  I'm not a church goer, and my side of the family were all "I told you so", so there was no one for me to talk to, really.  So I ended up in a very dark, disconnected, scary place.  Alone.

The lone candle flickering in the darkness was the fact that I had a daughter who needed me.  For her sake, I chose to do what had to be done in order to move forward = not die. I found gratitude for the one thing in my life that was undeniably awesome, and I focused my attention on it, taking baby steps, minute by minute, hour by hour.

Eventually things got a LOT better.

The pain I went through then was necessary, I realize now, for me to be available for what was to come, seven years later, when I was lucky AND ready enough to start a new family, which not only healed my heart, but gave me a more compassionate view of the world and nudged me closer to my dream of becoming an author worthy of representation.

Everything has meaning if you can find gratitude. And if you find meaning, it fills you with more gratitude.  Gratitude is a wellspring of creativity.

Several years later, things were going just peachy when the financial collapse of 2008 happened, and over 90% of my hard-earned nest egg went POOF.  (I watched helplessly as my IRA shrank from over 700K to just 70K.)  When the tide goes out, all boats go down. There is no safe place to run.

I questioned why I had slaved away for almost 30 years in cubicles without windows, hoping to amass enough wealth to someday be able to finally follow my artistic passions without ending up a poverty case.  

I felt like a fool.  I was angry -- at myself, at the government, at employers, and at Republicans in particular.  I still have regrets about decisions I made.

At the time, I was devastated and exhausted, both emotionally and intellectually. Nothing made sense any more.  Logic and wisdom held no power.  As a result, I lost faith in banks and insurance companies, I even doubted the soundness of our currency.  (This is STILL the case years later, by the way.)

But when I lifted my head and looked around, I noticed that each of my kids was healthy and happy, and I remembered that THIS is 90% of what matters to me.  In gratitude I chose to move forward in life with less anger.

Funny story longer, in a "F*ck you, Universe" move, I took what was left of my nest egg, and I put it ALL into one stock that had fallen to 35 cents a share, and a decade later it was bought out at $3.00.  I got lucky.  So it turns out I will have enough to retire after all.

Until something ELSE happens that I don't expect.

Getting older can be especially depressing if you were once blessed with impressive artistic or intellectual or athletic talents that fade over time.  One of the most difficult things humans ever do is say goodbye, and though we might feel alone in our pain, we all eventually grieve for the more vibrant person we once were.

I used to be somewhat handsome, but now I look in the mirror and ask "Who the HELL is THAT?!?" 

Watching my gifts get taken away is depressing, but lately I'm finding gratitude for body parts that still function.  It's actually quite freeing to stop worrying so much about how I look. You never lose something without gaining something else.

Shit could happen in 6 hours, 6 weeks, or in 6 years. I have no idea when, if ever, but regardless of when or if it haps, it's all good.  Because The Universe is my bitch, yo.

Some Words About My Pal, Gordon Rothwell

I went to a memorial service recently for an 86-year-old pal who passed. 

When I met Gordon, he had recently retired from a career in advertising – a career path that I’ve always yearned to follow, but which I have lacked the courage and confidence to pursue. Instead, I’ve sought the relative safety of technical writing, which rewards predominately left-brain writers like me with a steady paycheck.

But the yearning to be Don Draper, to be thought of as one of the magical Mad Men, has never left me.

As we know, Gordon Rothwell was the real deal. I wanted to learn from him, and he did not let me down in this regard. I met him when a fellow wannabe screenwriter invited me to attend a monthly meeting that Gordon had organized. I remember his warm smile, as he welcomed me, and I quickly became impressed by his easygoing leadership style that was a mix of intellect, humility, and a subtle sense of humor.

It was 1998, and the internet hadn’t really caught fire yet, so Gordon could always be counted on to bring reams of printouts, from film industry magazines and books, to share with everyone at each meeting. This was a tradition that I’m sure would still be occurring, hardcopies and all, if the group was still meeting. Gordon was kind of like our very own wild-haired professor, inspiring each of us to push through the different challenges we faced with our writing projects.

I was basically a “one idea author” who had started writing a novel on an actual typewriter in 1983, and was now trying to write it as a screenplay. Over the next few years, as a member of Gordon’s South Bay Screenwriters group, I eventually finished a first draft of my first feature-length script. This was a major milestone for me as a writer, a major turning point if you will, and if I ever win an Oscar, Gordon will surely be among the first people I thank.

As time passed, we all took turns sharing our works-in-progress, and we weathered the inevitably painful feedback offered by our peers, but eventually, the importance of having awesome snacks at the meetings threatened to overshadow the writing projects we were there to critique. Yes, we were in real danger of becoming foodies, before there was such a thing. At one point we started holding meetings in a conference room at the Mountain View Library, but they had a very strict “No Snacks” policy, so I remember us all covertly sneaking our snacks in, and then having to eat them with one eye on the door...

Eventually, the real world dramas in our lives pulled each of us in different directions, and our group agreed to disband. Gordon moved north, but unlike many his age, he learned how to keep connected with us online, and he never stopped writing. Just a week before he passed he alerted me to his latest novella available on Amazon, and I am so glad now that I listened to my gut and took the time to show him some love by buying a copy and posting a review of it online. I hope those actions gave him some measure of satisfaction and peace of mind.

I will never forget the magic that occasionally happened during our meetings, when anything seemed possible – even earning a living as a creative writer. I know that the magic of those moments never would have happened were it not for Gordon. The memory of that magic is, I think, what connects us – it’s why our group has kept in touch with each other.

Gordon remains a part of who we are, and he will surely be a part of the successful writer I might yet become.