Why the writing?
I still don't know why I'm writing a blog but I think it's mostly for practice. To keep up the writing. To make it second nature. So here I am, writing, with "Forever" playing beneath this open window. I am tickled by this Netflix show and hope that it inspires something in me. Creativity that is useful. What do I mean by that? Well, I'd love to create something that is entertaining, fun, relatable. Now, just for some IDEAS. Muse, ya listening?
People have asked if I'll create the short film version of my solo show. That's a topic that is not super fun, and perhaps I'm past that story (although I'm thinking of submitting the show to another festival, thanks to someone who kindly forwarded me a link) but what I'd really like is to create something far out. Weird, even. Like me. I'm a little bit country but I'm a little bit rock and roll. And that doesn't sit well with a lot of people.
That's not true. I mean, I'm not aware of that being true but my fingers typed it so I will leave it there, but now I'm questioning it. I suppose yes, it's true because there are people that don't get me. I amuse myself more than anyone else so people who don't understand my humor do surround me. I'm old enough now to know that not everyone will love, let alone like, me and I am fine with that because it means that I am finally being true to myself. I'm not living to people please. I need to please myself in order to lead. In order to inspire. I have a child to whom I need to be a mentor and teacher and that is, so far, the greatest endeavor I've undertaken.
While I've spent these few weeks judging myself for having started in this world as a gemstone, shined by the accolades of others - teachers, community leaders and adults who believed in me and my potential - and becoming an adult who is skimming along, doing what I can to balance the passion in me with the dispassionate work with which I fill my days and labeling myself as "less than." Not a failure, which I uttered the day I gave birth and was admonished by those who love me the most in this world to stop that nonsense right now, as I am NOT a failure; but I am not living up to my potential because I am a super star. Right? I think that we all are but I only truly know myself and I am not yet living my super star life. So I'm writing again. I'm a writer.
At 23, I got laid off from my 1st job at Reading Rainbow - a job for which I'd applied, having been introduced to it through my internship at Sesame Street, where I'd hoped to work on-camera but thought I'd start in production... It's REALLY hard to get a foot hold there. So I applied at RR, got an entry-level position and spent 11 months meekly shadowing some powerhouse women who were producing work for PBS and intimidating me into being a badass but I was not ready for that. I just wanted to be in front of the camera so I ended up coming off as a wistful wanna-be (in my opinion). I made some friendships, so it wasn't a loss and I did love so much about being there, but I wasn't creating. I was a cog in a productive machinery but it wasn't fulfilling.
When I got laid off, my oldest friend was surprised that I, her friend of 21 years who'd only and always talked about being an actress, had decided to finally become one. I was not going to have a day job so that was the time to start acting. "Oh," she'd replied. "I thought you'd become a writer." Huh?! Where'd that even come from?? How could she not know me at all? A writer?! I'm a freaking actress, der doy! Why didn't she understand me?
I started class at Gotham City Improv, where I improvised and wrote sketch comedy and monologues! I wasn't a writer. Nope. I was a performer there.
I studied Shakespeare at The American Globe Theatre and then in the UK at The Royal Academy of Dramatic Art (for a summer - I don't want to misrepresent myself) and I certainly wasn't writing Will's works. I was a performer there.
I returned and studied with Kirsten Ames in her Solo Performance Workshop where I wrote more character monologues in hopes of creating a solo show. I was not a writer! I was a performer.
I eventually saw a psychic due to a friend wanting to meet someone who could talk to her about her deceased grandfather. I decided to see him, too. "You're a WRITER!" he exclaimed with much flair. Anyone who's met Ray Pero on the Lower East Side can understand what I am talking about. "A writer?" I asked, 1/2-smiling with pride and somewhat confused and disappointed. "Not an...actress?" "You're a writer! It's in your EYES!" he'd exclaimed. "So...not an actress?" "WHATEVA! Maybe you'll write something for you to act in. But you're a writer, my friend."
Oh. Well. What do I do with THAT? I mean, I was already struggling to fathom how to hustle and create connections that could help me get hired as an actress. How was I supposed to now transform all that I'd been doing into a writing career??! I was also planning to finally start a family because, I'd come to realize, my ambitions as an actress weren't parlaying themselves into a paid career. I was ready for a baby.
Once I'd given birth, when I felt the need to communicate what I was experiencing, the first thought I had was to tell my story. Well, that required writing that story, but still I was viewing it as a way to get back onstage. To perform. Writing was an accessory to my storytelling and stage time. But I was no writer! Bah! How preposterous.
A wise friend recently told me that "A writer is a thinker who types." It feels indulgent to pour out my ideas and thoughts onto the screen, sharing and assuming someone will read them. I know, I should be writing with a pen in hand on paper, but this is a start. The point, though, is to write and write some more so I am continuing this trend in hopes that I will write without judgment and - woohoo! - with purpose. Oh wait, that's precisely what I'm doing! Will ya look at that?
At dinner tonight, my son and I chatted a bit and somehow we got onto the subject of fame. "How would you react if I was famous?" I'd asked him. "I have no idea, but I'll find out someday, because you will be one day."
I was blown away by his unconditional love for me and certainty that mommy had it in her to succeed. It was innocent and omniscient at the same time. I added, "And if mommy doesn't become famous, I will still be a success." "Yes," he agreed. Now that is love.
I need to love myself like I love him and he loves me. Like God loves us. I started writing about God and then shelved it to write this. I was fearful of what I had to say so I am saving it for another day. In the meantime, I'll wrap up this post with a thank you for your eyes receiving my words and helping me to continue a trend that may be my calling. Or a hobby. Either way, it is time well-spent.
People have asked if I'll create the short film version of my solo show. That's a topic that is not super fun, and perhaps I'm past that story (although I'm thinking of submitting the show to another festival, thanks to someone who kindly forwarded me a link) but what I'd really like is to create something far out. Weird, even. Like me. I'm a little bit country but I'm a little bit rock and roll. And that doesn't sit well with a lot of people.
That's not true. I mean, I'm not aware of that being true but my fingers typed it so I will leave it there, but now I'm questioning it. I suppose yes, it's true because there are people that don't get me. I amuse myself more than anyone else so people who don't understand my humor do surround me. I'm old enough now to know that not everyone will love, let alone like, me and I am fine with that because it means that I am finally being true to myself. I'm not living to people please. I need to please myself in order to lead. In order to inspire. I have a child to whom I need to be a mentor and teacher and that is, so far, the greatest endeavor I've undertaken.
While I've spent these few weeks judging myself for having started in this world as a gemstone, shined by the accolades of others - teachers, community leaders and adults who believed in me and my potential - and becoming an adult who is skimming along, doing what I can to balance the passion in me with the dispassionate work with which I fill my days and labeling myself as "less than." Not a failure, which I uttered the day I gave birth and was admonished by those who love me the most in this world to stop that nonsense right now, as I am NOT a failure; but I am not living up to my potential because I am a super star. Right? I think that we all are but I only truly know myself and I am not yet living my super star life. So I'm writing again. I'm a writer.
At 23, I got laid off from my 1st job at Reading Rainbow - a job for which I'd applied, having been introduced to it through my internship at Sesame Street, where I'd hoped to work on-camera but thought I'd start in production... It's REALLY hard to get a foot hold there. So I applied at RR, got an entry-level position and spent 11 months meekly shadowing some powerhouse women who were producing work for PBS and intimidating me into being a badass but I was not ready for that. I just wanted to be in front of the camera so I ended up coming off as a wistful wanna-be (in my opinion). I made some friendships, so it wasn't a loss and I did love so much about being there, but I wasn't creating. I was a cog in a productive machinery but it wasn't fulfilling.
When I got laid off, my oldest friend was surprised that I, her friend of 21 years who'd only and always talked about being an actress, had decided to finally become one. I was not going to have a day job so that was the time to start acting. "Oh," she'd replied. "I thought you'd become a writer." Huh?! Where'd that even come from?? How could she not know me at all? A writer?! I'm a freaking actress, der doy! Why didn't she understand me?
I started class at Gotham City Improv, where I improvised and wrote sketch comedy and monologues! I wasn't a writer. Nope. I was a performer there.
I studied Shakespeare at The American Globe Theatre and then in the UK at The Royal Academy of Dramatic Art (for a summer - I don't want to misrepresent myself) and I certainly wasn't writing Will's works. I was a performer there.
I returned and studied with Kirsten Ames in her Solo Performance Workshop where I wrote more character monologues in hopes of creating a solo show. I was not a writer! I was a performer.
I eventually saw a psychic due to a friend wanting to meet someone who could talk to her about her deceased grandfather. I decided to see him, too. "You're a WRITER!" he exclaimed with much flair. Anyone who's met Ray Pero on the Lower East Side can understand what I am talking about. "A writer?" I asked, 1/2-smiling with pride and somewhat confused and disappointed. "Not an...actress?" "You're a writer! It's in your EYES!" he'd exclaimed. "So...not an actress?" "WHATEVA! Maybe you'll write something for you to act in. But you're a writer, my friend."
Oh. Well. What do I do with THAT? I mean, I was already struggling to fathom how to hustle and create connections that could help me get hired as an actress. How was I supposed to now transform all that I'd been doing into a writing career??! I was also planning to finally start a family because, I'd come to realize, my ambitions as an actress weren't parlaying themselves into a paid career. I was ready for a baby.
Once I'd given birth, when I felt the need to communicate what I was experiencing, the first thought I had was to tell my story. Well, that required writing that story, but still I was viewing it as a way to get back onstage. To perform. Writing was an accessory to my storytelling and stage time. But I was no writer! Bah! How preposterous.
A wise friend recently told me that "A writer is a thinker who types." It feels indulgent to pour out my ideas and thoughts onto the screen, sharing and assuming someone will read them. I know, I should be writing with a pen in hand on paper, but this is a start. The point, though, is to write and write some more so I am continuing this trend in hopes that I will write without judgment and - woohoo! - with purpose. Oh wait, that's precisely what I'm doing! Will ya look at that?
At dinner tonight, my son and I chatted a bit and somehow we got onto the subject of fame. "How would you react if I was famous?" I'd asked him. "I have no idea, but I'll find out someday, because you will be one day."
I was blown away by his unconditional love for me and certainty that mommy had it in her to succeed. It was innocent and omniscient at the same time. I added, "And if mommy doesn't become famous, I will still be a success." "Yes," he agreed. Now that is love.
I need to love myself like I love him and he loves me. Like God loves us. I started writing about God and then shelved it to write this. I was fearful of what I had to say so I am saving it for another day. In the meantime, I'll wrap up this post with a thank you for your eyes receiving my words and helping me to continue a trend that may be my calling. Or a hobby. Either way, it is time well-spent.
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