The Chatterbox

Yesterday I finally got motivated to pound out a rough first draft of my sitcom idea.  All the while I was writing it, I kept thinking, "This isn't funny.  This is bad.  This is crap."  The jokes felt forced, I felt I was trying too hard, it just didn't feel like I was doing it justice.

I know when I write funny.  Though it may sound narcissistic (no, me??), I have written some real laugh out loud stuff.  I laughed, others laughed, it's golden as they say. 

But I was reading over this draft yesterday and I just couldn't get into any kind of groove.  I felt like I was too over the top (my main character is extremely over the top) and it was just completely the opposite of funny. 

Last night the minute Steven came in I made him read it.  I knew if he didn't laugh out loud the entire read it was, indeed, crap.  He's my comedy meter, I didn't think my first script was funny either but it was his being able to bust a gut while reading that finally convinced me.

Last night, he helped proove it again.  the second page in (or first minute of the show), he was nearly in the floor.  This is good news.

So the Chatterbox decided to change gears.  Instead of convincing me that I couldn't do it, it started to convince me that I could.  That doesn't sound too bad, right?  Wrong!  I literally had a panic attack of what it would mean to advance in this thing.

Ten weeks of my lovely face splattered all over the TV.  I nearly swallowed my tongue at the thought.  Dear God, I barely leave my house, much less get broadcast all over the country. 

And if that weren't enough the Chatterbox then berated me for thinking I could be so arrogant to think that I could win.  Me, who has never before written a television script - who has just *now* started researching on how it should be done and the mechanics of why they work.  Who did I think I was that I really write a script in a day with that little knowledge and walk away with the grand prize?

When I start thinking, it's a dangerous thing.

The bottom line is that I may not have that much experience writing sitcom scripts, but I do have five feature length scripts under my belt.  I have been studying how to write stories, to develop characters, to strengthen plots for two years.  I've always been a sitcom fan, and they remain some of my favorite shows (Three's Company, Night Court, Cheers, Roseanne, The Golden Girls, Friends, Seinfeld, etc, etc).  I have been doing unconscious research for years.

And this idea has been perculating since Steven and I started our trip to Vegas (not to mention that it was the direct descendant of our first script - this character is not new to me). We brainstormed a lot, worked our pitch on family and friends (who confirmed it's originality and it's potential to be funny).  My litmus test on how funny the idea is - if I pitch it and people laugh. 

So me pounding out a 40 page script yesterday (really it should be 20, but the format is double spaced) was really a culmination of all the work I had been doing up until then.  I worked the outline out last week, so I had a guideline of what I wanted to do.

All that was left to do was fill it in and make it funny.

I think I did that.  Now I want to make it good.

Because even if it means I have to break out of my safety zone, hurtle through like a runaway train even, I think I actually have a shot at this thing.

I'll conveniently forget I said that about Nicholl and Austin, both of which double dinked me in the space of a month. 

I'll just earn my stripes as a writer and pick myself up, brush myself up and move on to the next project.  Someday it's going to pay off.

I don't care what the Chatterbox has to say about it.

 

Walking

I heard somewhere that walking is the best exercise.  It's certainly easy.  You don't have to pay any money to join a gym to walk (although you can), you don't have to spend big bucks for special machines to walk (although you can), most people in most shape are able to walk - it requires no special skill or training.  In fact, that it is so easy makes me kick myself for not doing it all those months I sat on my big fat plateau.

Last week I started up walking to the park and back.  I was trying to get Steven into the groove, but waking him up without the use of explosives is futile.  It takes him a while to get moving once he is awake, and generally needs the time to get ready for work.  So I finally decided I could no longer use him as a crutch to walk - I just had to get my happy rear in gear and do it myself.

Well I'm not all by myself.  Winston has resumed the role of taskmaster.  He makes sure if I don't take him for "his" walk, I'm going to be sorry. 

So last week we managed to make it to the park Wednesday, Thursday and Friday.  Not only that but I also managed to do Pilates Wednesday and Friday also.  I've got my pedometer on and I'm aspiring to those 10,000 steps. 

It allowed me to cheat a bit on the diet on Saturday.  We went over to my sister's for an impromtu family reunion.  She made filet mignon, real mashed potatoes, broccoli and cheese and corn with buttter.  Amazingly enough, though I indulged in these things my calories only came in at 1900 - which is within my goal range.  What bumped me up is the wine I also indulged in, and that took me to 2100.

Anyway I step on the home scale this morning and I'm the same weight - no gains.  Probably because my body promptly got rid of the bad stuff as if to say, "What's THIS???"

And at 7:30am I was out the door and on my way for another walk.  The plan is to walk this 3 mile trek (this is with the smaller route at the park) five M-F, and do Pilates M, W, and F. 

My sister and her future daughter in law walk about 5-6 miles a day, they haven't much modified their diet and she's lost 8lbs so far.  This confirms to me how vital walking is.

Once I get the 3 mile trek down then I'm going to incorporate the longer route, to bump it up to 4 miles.  Right now, especially with the heat, both Winston and I require a little conditioningbefore we tackle that goal. 

In the meantime I'm burning up points on the Presidential Challenge page.  I've already earned over 12,000 points.  The first award you can aspire to is a patch, and it requires 6 consecutive weeks logging in 30 mins of activity or more a day for five days a week.  My lazy arse has so far been unable to accomplish said goal.  Interestingly enough, I'm more than halfway to the bronze award (20,000 points), so I wouldn't be a bit surprised if I reach that goal before I get the patch.

Either way I'm feeling good, I'm feeling positive, the endorphins are flowing and I'm off to work.

 

A Day of Rest. Right

Over the last couple days a screenwriting buddy of mine took My Immortal and slashed it to shreds.  He's sending me my newly mashed ego in segments.  Yesterday I took it on the chin.  Today I'm bleeding a little.  Fortunately he peppers it with, "I know you're better than this", but it still reads: This story blows.

And this after I took some of his suggestions and revamped (haha, little pun for you there) the entire draft.  I trimmed it from a fat 119 pages to a lean and mean 105, punching up some of the scenes for more umph.  I was so proud of it I was ready to send it off to one of the film makers I told you I met in Vegas. 

His reality has no place in my writing high. 

I also learned why weight and wait are the same word separated by complicated spelling.  I'm holding steady at 279, and this time I lost no inches.  I don't think it's another plateau, I think it's very much related to my least favorite letters in the alphabet - PMS.

Which brings me to the other lesson I learned today.  Giving in to the fatigue I vegged on the couch watching Beaches.  BIG MISTAKE.  I haven't sobbed that hard at a movie - especially a movie I've seen at least a dozen times - ever.

The reason it hit me harder this time than ever before is this is the first time I've watched it since Dan passed away.  CC losing her best friend threw into sharp focus that I lost mine too.  I have my best friend Jeff of 24 years, I also consider Steven my best friend in addition to my husband - but Dan was also my best friend for many years.  I grew up with him.

As I sat there crying, I wondered why this was still so hard.  It's been nearly a year but sometimes the pain is as fresh as if it had happened yesterday.  It still hurts so much, and just doesn't seem fair that he's not here with us.  Sometimes I liken it to the fact he was so young, but the fact is I'd still feel that way even if he had been 90. 

Sometimes I think it's because I knew him longer than any other person I've lost.  I knew my dad 11 years.  I knew my neice 2 years.  I knew Brandon 9 days.  With Dan I knew him 16 years.  And I think the longer you know someone you're close to there's a certain spiritual meshing that goes on.  When they're gone, you definitely feel the void.  And watching a movie we'd watched many times, about thekind of life long friends that we were, starring one of his favorite entertainers (Bette), hearing a song that was a tribute to those quiet folks in our lives who support us fully and let us have all the glory of who they've helped create us to be - was one of those moments.

So, I'm wrecked.  I'm going to take a nap. 

Another Four Letter Word... WAIT

I don't like to wait for anything.  Most of you probably know this from the big fuss I make that the weight loss isn't coming fast enough for me.  I generally don't have a lot of patience "in the moment" as I wait for the things I want.  I want what I want when I want it.  This is spoken like a true "Me" generation baby who hit her stride in the wonderful 80s. 

What's particularly troublesome is I have seem to have only two speeds in this arena.  I'm either possessed and obsessed trying to make it happen NOW, or I'm putting it off and bowing to the Procrastinating gods as I blissfully bury my head in the sand and consider it so far in the future it's a non issue.

Case in point.

My mother recently rented a house from my same landlord.  Turns out, they have a new pet deposit policy that went into effect five months after we moved in.  Instead of the one time non refundable deposit we had to make, she would have to tack on an additional $50 per month in order to have a pet. 

Thankfully we were protected by our lease when this change took place, but in January our lease is up and we'll have to sign another one.  And I don't want to have to pay $50 extra per month to have a pet. 

Until this unexpected turn of events, I was perfectly happy staying here until we actually bought a home of our own.  There are several things that we need to do before we can accomplish this (pay off some debt, save up a down payment, improve our credit scores, etc), and when we moved in it was my total intention to spend the year doing that.  Well here it is, 7 months later, and I haven't done squat.

Head in sand mode.

Chatting with my best friend last night who happens to have also been a Realtor, he actually enlightened me that I *could* get into a house without all the work and time I thought I needed - which excited me to no end.  Not only could I get into a house, but I could get into a nice house.  Instead of throwing money away in rent, I could be investing it into a house and my credit would be positively affected.

So all excited I slammed into the bedroom, scaring a still sleepy Steven half to death, and exclaim that we were going to put the pedal to the metal and work like dogs to be able to not only move out in January, but move into a home.  We could trim the bills, pay some stuff off, and just make a concentrated effort to tackle this task.

Hello possessed-obsessed-have to make it happen NOW mode.

I even considered taking on a second job.  I was a woman on a mission.

Then Steven had to take his mean ol pin and pop my fragil wil balloon and remind me that one of the things we had to pay off was impossible to pay in just five months.  Maybe a year, he said.  But not five months.

So here I am, my psyche stuck in between two completely opposing gears and I can tell you.  It sucks.

Winston and I went for our walk this morning and all I could do was look at all the houses and think - Geez, am I ever going to be able to own one of these?  I was working and reworking possible solutions in my head in between the resolution I would just have to wait and be patient. 

Ever since I was 18 I always felt there was time for all this... now as 35 looms large in the near future, I wonder what the heck I was waiting for. 

Kind of like the weight.

So I guess it's just going to be a matter of hurry up and wait for this matter as well.  Do what it is I know I need to do and know that in the end, it will take care of itself.

I just have to learn a new gear.  The slow and steady wins the race gear.  The enjoy where you are on the way to where you're going gear.  The totally un-Ginger like gear.

It's a lot easier to get to that gear in the weight loss, because I'm already well engrossed in the journey.  All I have to do is look at old photos or put on the smaller clothes and I know I can make it through another day.  All the good days add up and I see the improvement.  I see myself becoming who it is I want to be. 

So I know if I just make the small changes slowly and methodically, the financial growth will come as well.

I just have to wait.

<sigh>

Comfortable in Their Skin

Over the last couple of days I've watched Pirates of the Caribbean and Benny & Joon.  One thing struck me about both Johnny Depp characters, aside from the fact I think he's frickin brilliant as an actor, and that is the characters he plays are so comfortable in their skin.

They don't question whether or not they have the right to be themselves, they just are.  If you're along for the ride, great.  If not, no skin off their noses. 

I have so much respect for this quality.  I scurry around like a little mouse waiting for permission to be myself, saving that only for those I know already like me and won't reject me.  Every time I try to exert my own unique personality, the minute it gets squashed down I clam up and become a chameleon, changing myself for the environment I'm in.  Reason being is my personality is very strong and can be off putting.  If in a debate I tend to come off as personally attacking my opponant, when I take great pains to avoid doing just that. 

I remember a time with my former boss who was extremely negative, trying to stay cheerful and positive, and having her tell me I was "too cheerful".  Knowing what I know now I could tell her with all certainty there is no such thing.  But back then, I scaled down my naturally positive personality and turned into that silly chameleon, taking on her personality so that I would be accepted.

I don't know when I started that, I really don't.  When my dad was alive I never worried about being accepted.  But when he died I guess that part of me died with him.  When puberty hit with all its wonderful little pitfalls like acne, making an already tease target like a 200lb teenager easy prey for junior high heirarchy, more and more of me disappeared.

The fatter I got, the worse it got.  I bought into the myth that I was only as good as I looked.  I bought into the big fat lie that as a woman I was only as good as my dress size.  It's funny how the more imposing I allowed my body to become, the more my soul shrank.  The more the real me seemed to disappear. 

Even still the thoughts linger that once I get to goal weight I'll be better somehow.  I mentioned the sitcom contest a few entries back.  I'm so locked up when it comes to writing this thing because I think deep down the thought of winning scares me.

Bravo is hosting a search for the next sitcom, and they've put out a call to have contestants come up with a premise, write the script and send it in.  The top five people get to meet with executives and pitch their ideas.  The top two pitches enter a ten week competition where they get to go through the process of how a sitcom develops.  This will be televised.  At the end of the ten weeks, the Bravo audience gets to choose which one they like better, and that person is the winner.

Imagine the terror this might strike in the heart of a lily livered chameleon like myself.  The person I depend on to handle the face to face stuff like pitch meetings will have to stay behind to work this new great job he has, plus look after the kids.  So I have to fly solo. 

What's especially interesting to me is that I don't question I *can* make it to this level.  With getting dinked in the Nicholl and possibly the Austin Film Festival, what makes me think I have what it takes to beat the competition (of possibly experienced TV writers)?  But yet, I think I have a shot - or else I wouldn't even enter.  I don't play games I can't win. 

If it does happen, it will do much to yank me out of my comfort zone, that's for sure.  So I long for the ease with which I see other people sail through life as if they have every right in the world to be there on their terms, never compromising who they are for what they want. 

I guess that's one more muscle I'm going to have to exercise.

Speaking of exercise, I did go for a walk this morning.  I've been up since before 6am and I'm going to do my level best to get one more walk in tonight and go to bed at a reasonable time (instead of right this second, cuz I could really use a nap).

I just realized I forgot to do Pilates earlier.  Good habits are easy to break.  Better get cracking before the kids get home. 

 

Exhaustion Thy Name is PMS

It occured to me last night as I scarfed everything in sight that my exhaustion was indeed hormonal.  I suffer from PMS, and with it comes mood swings, exhaustion, and cravings.  I eat every thing in sight.  Even my cats looked worried. 

Thank God for sugar free Hershey bars, that's all I'm sayin.

The schedule flipping didn't work exactly like I hoped, but I'm not giving up.  It may take more than one day.  I am getting older.  Used to be I could stay up in 36 hour marathons with my best friend.  Now if I'm a few minutes over 16 hours I'm cranky and in need of a nap.

I guess if I want to get a walk in I'm going to have to get dinner started.  Enchiladas - nummy.  I love cheating my favorite foods.  If I could find a way to cheat Chinese food I'd be in Food Heaven.

It's a good thing I can now cheat chocolate or else it would be an ugly, UGLY few days around this PMS suffering household.

 

I Do, Part Deux

Here are the photos from the renewal, the ceremony was done in front of the Paris Las Vegas Hotel & Casino. 

Enjoy.  :)