Starfish Envy

A Moment To Digress...

I don't write about work here... but tonight I'm going to make a very brief exception.

Because today WP and I finished a new draft of one of our two pilot scripts.

And IT'S SO GOOD!

What's amazing is, we really love BOTH of our pilot scripts.  The Fox script is completely different than the CW script, but I think it's fair to say that both are better than anything we've ever written before.  

Which, given my level of exhaustion and not-feeling-great-ness over the last several months, is something of a miracle.  And certainly speaks to WP's patience.

Of course, it's entirely possible these scripts will end up as little more than really great writing samples.  It's hard -- okay, impossible -- to predict anything in the television business.  

But I'm really hoping both of these shows make it to your television screens in the fall.

If they do, I think you'll love them as much as we do.

 

For The Writers Out There

Every now and then, you're lucky enough to have a truly exceptional teacher.  Tonight, I'd like to introduce you to one of mine.  

Jim Shepard was my favorite professor in college.  He's a fantastic writer, and as you'll see in the clip below, one hell of a teacher.   Doesn't hurt that he's funny.

  

I know some of you are writers, and to you I must say:  buy Jim's books.  Read them closely.  If you get the chance to see him speak, really listen.   And if you ever have the opportunity to study with him, grab it with both hands.  

Thanks to WP's college writing professor, Dani Shapiro, for Tweeting this link today.

A Little Says A Lot

One of my favorite happiness suggestions from Gretchen Rubin is the One Sentence Journal.

I started keeping one more than a year ago... but then I remodeled and my journal was accidentally packed away.  When I started moving back in, I was so happy to find it again.

Looking back over my journal, what's fascinating to me is how a very brief journal entry (I'm not very good at keeping it to one sentence-- but they're still very, very brief) truly captures the essence of what was going on at that time.  

And while I would never go back and read through an in-depth journal (because that would be flat-out exhausting, as well as time-consuming), it's easy to flip through the One Sentence Journal, and within moments take myself back to a given day or month.

Here are some selections from last January to show you what I mean: 

Jan. 2, 2010: Went to my second yoga class of the year/decade/century.

Jan. 3, 2010: Have my fourth cold in three months.  Arg.

Jan. 5, 2010: Jury duty-- got released early, came home, called architects, and ORDERED SPERM!!

Jan. 11, 2010: Enormous, tragic earthquake in Haiti.  Heartbreaking.

Jan. 14, 2010: Finished shooting Lie To Me episode 214.  Great acting in this one.  Glad to be done.

Jan. 16, 2010:  Brunch with Tracy, and got an apricot tree from Echo Park Improvement Association.

Jan. 23, 2010: Dinner at Liz's-- Jack's growing!  Gretchen's in town on her book tour.  She seems happy!

Jan. 30, 2010: Super lazy day.  Lots of reading in bed!

A mere eight-day sampling covers world events, what was happening in my life (my first sperm purchase!), and what was going on in my career.  

And that makes me happy.

Even with an entry like the one on March 16, 2011: Definitely not pregnant.  Again.

Oh, well.  Someday I'll look back at those words, and be glad things turned out as they did.

At least, I hope I will.

I Have A Question For Ya

I emailed Gretchen Rubin this morning with a word-related question-- because, seriously, if you have a word-related question, you want Gretchen Rubin in your corner.  

But she didn't have an answer!

What?  I know.  I was shocked, too. 

However, she did suggest I ask YOU!  (As readers of The Happiness Project blog will know, one of her commenters came up with the insanely wonderful term "Waldenlust.")

So, what was the question?  

The question waaaaas:  Do you know of a word or concept, in English or any other language, that means "a perfect moment?"  

You know.  One of those rare and fleeting moments when everything just seems right.  When you're filled with contentment.  Peace.  Happiness.

I haven't had one of those moments in awhile, but the concept is fascinating-- and I'd like to include some musings on the subject in the YA book I'm constantly not having time to write.   But will.  Soon.

Soon-ish.

So, tonight the ball's in your court.  Have you had one of those moments?  What is that feeling called?  If there's no word for it yet, feel free to make one up.  

Because if you can out-awesome "Waldenlust," you will officially be MY HERO. 

Still Striving...

I don't want to speak too soon, lest I curse myself, but I think the Era Of Perpetual Glumness is nearing an end.

I've been clearing my plate of stressful things, and working on letting go of various unhealthy attachments.  The situation with my mom's former estate lawyers seems to be resolved (knock on wood); the property purchase is likely to take several months, so I don't have to worry about that right now; I don't have to rush to find a new sperm donor; my Christmas shopping is mostly done; my interior remodel is nearing an end. 

Am I stress-free, clear-minded, and happy?

Nope. 

But I'm working on it.

One thing that helped me today was a poem I read on a reader's blog.  And when I say it helped me, I mean as I read it I felt a weight lift from my chest.  

So, of course, I had to share it.  I hope that if there's anything weighing you down today, it helps you too.

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DESIDERATA

Go placidly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.

As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant, they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexations to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself. Especially, do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love, for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is perennial as the grass.

Take kindly to the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be, and whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world.

Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

Max Ehrmann c.1920

 

My First Give-Away!!!

I take a lot of things for granted.

Not the least of them is water.

I was struck by this this morning, as I was racing around, watering my newly re-potted tangerine tree, filling the dogs' bowls, making tea, choking down my vitamins, taking a shower, and washing off the place on my deck where Chloe insists on peeing every day.  (She can be SO charming.)

Some of it's a pain in the butt, sure, but it's still colossally easy.

And that made me think of the many places in the world where water is a luxury, where women and girls (because it's always women and girls) walk for miles to find water, then haul it to their homes on their heads or backs.

When I went to Ethiopia several years ago, the paucity of fresh water-- of any water, really-- made an enormous impact on me.   So much so that one of the characters in WP's and my second book, which written after my trip, goes to Ethiopia to build wells.  

This is all to say that tonight I made a donation to Water.org.

Will my donation change the world?  Nope.  

But it'll help ensure that the women and girls in one village very far away won't have to make that long walk.

In the spirit of Thanksgiving, which is fast approaching, if you make a donation of any amount to Water.org, then leave a comment letting me know you did, (I trust you) you'll be entered to win signed copies of WP's and my two books, and a Lie To Me baseball cap.

BEST PRIZE EVER, right?

Okay, not so much.  But if you know a teenaged girl, she'll probably like the books, and I can personally vouch for the quality of the hat.

Or if you'd rather have a Vampire Diaries water bottle, that could probably be arranged. (Full disclosure: It has a label with my name on it, but it's never been used.  I swear.)

More importantly, we'll be building a well together.  

And that's a pretty good way to start the holiday season.      

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FYI: Water.org has a four star rating on Charity Navigator.

Podcast Anyone?

If you're a regular here, you know I don't write about work.  

Okay, yeah, so maybe it creeps in from time to time.  But not often, and only in the most general terms.  

Which is why I was torn about posting a link to an interview WP and I did earlier this week with Mo Ryan from the Chicago Tribune and her partner in podcasting crime, Ryan McGee.  And then I realized that part of the reason we were asked to do the interview was, in fact, this blog-- specifically, posts here that touch on the topic of being a woman and a writer in Hollywood.  (Here's an example.)

So if you're as interested in that subject as I am, check out the podcast.  Many thanks to the two Ryans for delving into this endlessly complicated subject.  There's a lot more to say, and a lot more progress to be made... but we really have come a long way, baby.  

Nonsense and Crabs

Tonight's episode of 'Top Chef' featured Maryland blue crab, and the second I heard those words, WHOOSH!  I was transported back to rural North Carolina.  In a blink, I was twenty-two again, fresh out of college, and teaching high school English through a program called Teach for America. 

Every Tuesday night, all the TFA corps members in my area (which basically meant everyone within 40 miles) got together for a potluck dinner.  Those dinners got us through being first-year teachers in significantly under-resourced rural schools.  Schools that were very, very different from the schools that most of us were used to.  Schools that regularly broke-- and often mended-- my heart.  Those Tuesday night dinners kept me, and all of us, strong and laughing.  

But the best of all the Tuesday night dinners was at the home of our TFA mentor.  At some point in the evening, one of my friends and I started keeping track of all the conversation threads going on around the dinner table... and compiled them all into a nonsense poem.  

It's the only poem I've ever memorized.  It makes no sense.  

But it's one of my best memories of that time of my life.  

Of course, now I have to share it with you, but don't worry.  It's short.

.

In flounder step, I follow the corn

And hence, the dumb blue crab.

Ah, Maryland, my native state,

Behold, the Kool-Aid Man.

Looking through the plastic mouth,

Deflation has set in,

While brownies, auctioned silently,

Mallowcream pumpkins, is.

Oh, gremlin intellectual,

Stuck like Pocahontas,

A rugby-muscled, patty-cake,

Socialite massager.

.

See?  Totally awesome nonsense.  

But the next time you're having a big dinner party, I highly recommend making a poem out of it.

Memorial Day, 2010

I'm not a poet, but that doesn't keep me from writing a poem now and then.  

Perhaps it should.  

Still, it's Memorial Day, and I wrote the first of the two poems below after a walk at the beach on Memorial Day, 2007.  I was there to visit Arlington West-- which, as the poem says, was set up in the sand north of the Santa Monica Pier.  My intention was to take some time to honor the men and women who have served and continue to serve in our armed forces.  It turned into a metaphor-laden morning, and I left feeling-- even more strongly than I had before--  that we, as a country, were failing our soldiers and ourselves.

The second poem was written two years later.  

I didn't write a poem this year... but my mint still creeps.  

A Walk at the Beach

            Memorial Day, 2007

 

I went for a walk at the beach.

The morning paper said it would be relaxing

And reduce my level of stress.

 

The crosses of Arlington West spread

In the sand north of the Pier,

Smaller than expected.  Less vast. 

 

Three girls from Venice High School

Approached—shorts short, bellies glowing—

To ask how I felt about the war.

 

Immoral, I said.

Illegal.

Ill-conceived.

 

Walking north,

A seal

Lay pale and mottled,

Black fur stretched

Past breaking and curled back

By bloat,

Vast, empty eyes

Round and hollow

And white

And clean.

 

Cleaner than me,

Cleaner than the three girls and the pudgy children 

Making moats against rising tides.

 

On the walk back south,

A red balloon danced, wilted,

In wilting waves.

 

I pick it up.

I carry it.

 

Driving east on the 10, I try not to lose them:

The crosses, the three girls, the seal,

The little boy, maybe four years old, alone in the water,

Having the time of his life,

No grown up nearby,

No one responsible,

Not knowing how quickly things can happen,

Or how little time there is, once they do,

To be saved.

 

 

 

An Herb Garden

Memorial Day, 2009

 

Today I planted an herb garden.

Drove fingers into dirt

Made way for sweet basil and dill,

Oregano, flat-leafed parsley,

Rosemary, mint.

 

The mint I gave a pot

All its own

Because, like hope, it creeps.

 

 

A Long Day In The Life

6:47 a.m.  Wake up, annoyed to be waking up thirty-three minutes before my alarm is scheduled to go off.  Stay utterly immobile until... 

7:00 a.m., which is the earliest I can take my basal body temperature and still have it be in the acceptable time window.  Take basal body temperature.  Record basal body temperature on fertilityfriend.com.  Activate Clear Blue Easy Fertility Monitor.

7:10 a.m.  Feed dogs.  Give dogs fresh water.  Shower.  Get dressed.

7:30 a.m. Open front door so remodel can begin for the day.  Check emails, send emails.

7:45 a.m.  Go to breakfast.  Usually I'd make my own oatmeal, but:

Yeah.  

8:30 a.m.  Return from breakfast to find this:

Turns out that little crack in the stucco from where I tapped it with my car... well, the wood behind there wasn't so hot.  So when they went to patch it, the whole thing kinda caved in.  So that's a fun thing that has to be done today.  (Fortunately, not by me.)   

8:45 a.m.  Load Moose into the car.

9 a.m.  Drop Moose off at physical therapy.

9:30 a.m.  Escape Dodgers Opening Day traffic.  Get home, where Laurie (Project Manager from Heaven) says, "Did you take a shower this morning?"  

Just so you know?  When someone in the remodeling field asks if you took a shower? That's bad.  She took me downstairs to find this:

Well, not quite that.   Pre-that.  Which was basically the water from my whole morning shower dripping through the ceiling of my downstairs bathroom.  

10:15 a.m.  See above.  Something cracked under my upstairs tub that shouldn't crack.  Water damage.  Much re-thinking of entire remodeling plan to account for the fact that I now no longer have a working shower.  Replacing non-functioning downstairs shower head moves to top of list.  Bathrooms in general move to top of list.  Moving down on the list?  Air conditioning.  Sob.

10:45 a.m.  Schedule doctor's appointment.  Pay for kitchen tiles.  Set up dog sitter for trip to Minnesota in May.  RSVP to an event on Saturday.  Call Mom with details of May visit.  

11:30 a.m.  Take fertility herbs.  Continue remodel rethink.  Consult with Laurie and plumber on possible arrangement for upstairs bathroom.  Pocket door?  No, no pocket door.  Separate shower?  No, no separate shower.  Sob.

12:30 p.m.  Eat lunch.  Which sounds simple, but entails going out the front door and through the side gate to come in the kitchen door to get to the refrigerator, then microwaving my food, going back out the kitchen door, through the side gate, and back through the front door.  (There's butcher paper covering the door from my dining room to the kitchen because... did I not mention?... they demo'd tiles this morning, which means all of the above took place to the sound of hammering and machines I couldn't possibly begin to identify.)  

1:15 p.m. Leave for doctor's appointment.

2:15 p.m.  Arrive at doctor's office.  Do nothing for several short, blissful minutes.

2:30 p.m.  Day 3 ultrasound.  Talk to my doctor about getting an HSG, which is a minor procedure to make sure my fallopian tubes are clear.  

3:00 p.m.  Head up to WP's house.

3:30 p.m.  Arrive at WP's, where we work on breaking our screenplay until 7:00 p.m., with only a short break to coo over Jack taking a bath.

7:30 p.m.  Meet with WP and another friend, SL, to discuss our individual progress on the novels we're each writing.  

9:30 p.m.  Head home.  

9:45 p.m.  Stop to pick up Moose from physical therapy.

10:00 p.m.  Realize I have no drinking water in the house because because my water filter is under the sink and at the moment my sink is a big, gaping hole:

10:05 p.m. Stop at gas station for drinking water.  

10:10 p.m. Feed the dogs.  (I swear, I'm not usually such a delinquent dog mom.)

10:15 p.m.  Start writing blog post.  

10: 30 p.m.  Struggle to keep eyes open.  Email Laurie about the plan for tomorrow.  Keep writing blog post.  

11:09 p.m.  Struggle more to keep eyes open.  Finish blog post.

Still left to do:  Brush teeth.  Wash face.  Nightly fertility meditation.  

Sleep.