Friday, April 1, 2016

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.

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