%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |
Blog started in Jan 2005: 1st entries for Write in Every Genre. Then the REAL ME begins |
|
It Hurts When I Stop Talking Sometime in Fall of 1998, when a visit from Dad was infrequent, and primarily at the mercy of his 88 Toyota making the 50 mile journey, I was being treated to lunch. The restaurant was my choice, I think. Sisley Italian Kitchen at the Town Center mall was somewhere my dad had not yet tried, so that was my pick. Either I was being treated to the luxury of lunch and adult conversation without my husband and 5 year old son in tow, or that's just how the moment has lodged in my memory. The more I think about it, they probably were there, but enjoying the Italian food too much to bother interrupting. Daddy and his lady friend at the time, Anne, came up together and made a day of it with me and the family. We were eating together and talking about some of my scripts, stories, coverages, poems and other creative attempts that really were not seeing the light of day. I think I'd just finished a group reading of The Artist's Way and was in a terribly frenetic mood over my writing. I think I'd just given them an entire rundown on a speculative Star Trek script. My Dad asked me point blank, “Why don’t you write it?? Anne agreed. It sure sounded like I wanted to write it. Why wasn't I writing seriously? It's what I'd set out to do when earning my college degree in Broadcasting many years earlier. Heck, I should, I agreed non-verbally. “I will.” But, I didn’t. Blogs can be wild, unpredictable storehouses of moments, tangents, creative dervishes, if you will. I'm getting a firmer handle on my creative cycle. My mental compost heap (which is a catch phrase from Natalie Goldman or Julia Cameron - I can't think which, right now) finally seems to be allowing a fairly regular seepage of by-products. That may be a gross analogy, but I give myself credit to categorize my work in raw terms. It proves that I'm not so much the procrastinating perfectionist that I once was. Still, I always seem to need prompts and motivation. Being a self-starter is the next step. My attempt to keep up in the Write in Every Genre Contest at the beginning of the year seemed like a perfect point to launch the blog. |
Soundtrack of my Life I'll go on the opposite side of the spectrum now...Access to Netflix and Disney + causes some unique choices. No, I don't mean Die Hard as Christmas movie...but in December, I recall poking around in the new playground of Disney + and watching the gaming episode of World Accoding to Jeff Goldblum, in which Jeff joins a pair of sound editors in creating sounds related to play in Wonka's World of Candy (an app game)-- this made me nostalgic for the Willy Wonka and the Chocolte Factory movie of the Seventies. And my favorite part? The performance by Gene Wilder of the song, Pure Imagination. This was also re-established in the collective social memory due to his rendition being the background song to a current ad campaign for Adobe Creative (cloud computing) Advertisers have used the song in a PSA on Alzheimers as well, I'm thinking there's alot of sentimental adverting agency personnel of a certain age...I should know. Performed by Mr. Willy Wonka (Gene Wilder) Songwriter(s): Leslie Bricusse; Anthony Newley Label: Paramount (1971)  |
Soundtrack of my Life Normally rated for Everyone, but the lyrics in the video contains some language What can I do to reignite my writing -- Today would be the first day in a couple decades, honestly, when I have entertained writing a script. I give inspirational credit to the Oscars telecast (and all the truly great cinema that I watched in 2019). When I pulled together the seed of my script idea this morning, my first thought was, "I need to document this in my blog....That will get me to start on it seriously." But then, (probably as an avoidance tactic) I found myself neither in this Blog nor the Word document I opened at the beginning of the day. And in my Newsfeed...where I found something new to both distract and steer away from writing, but stir my creative curating -- The Soundtrack of Your Life Challenge So, Day One seems serendipitous -- Eminem's Lose Yourself is my newly rediscovered pick. My re-introduction to this marvel of lyrics and even its beat came in one of those car trips when everyone in the car has to agree. Although I will admit it takes my youngest sometimes pushing, "You have to hear this song!" followed immediately by it being piped through the car speakers via HDMI connection, regardless of my interest. Here is also where I have to confess that I would have otherwise never given a thought to Eminem, since rap was not my scene. The Oscar performance from Sunday, (which happened 17 years after the song was awarded the 2002 Best Song in a Motion Picture Oscar for 8 Mile ), is perhaps the better watch, but I am recognizing the actual song and all it says. Songwriters: Jeffrey Irwin Bass / Marshall B Mathers / Luis Edgardo Resto Lose Yourself lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd. |
| Trying to write again; at least journal. I had a whole day to myself yesterday, and I did end it with a bit of reflective writing. I had to take to pen and journal, as the apartment still just feels so uncomfortable to me. I have no sitting space. I have no computer place. Because my flexibility is even less than I used to have, sitting on the futon (as bed) feels more like the place I am stuck than the escape of a writing desk. That small entry made last night was mere recording of my enjoying a familiar movie, Kate & Leopold. I had forgotten a little bit in it where it refers to Breakfast at Tiffany's. Would be interesting to make a list of movies that reference older movies as a thematic/plot device. And so, I sit here now at a desktop computer, before my commute home, writing about making a list. Wow, fabulous stuff. I sure know how to make the writer's life just shine as I document. I am writing, or trying to write again regularly, to become invested again in my writing projects. I let myself be discouraged by my knowledge that I do not zip out content as quickly as others are capable of. Although, built within that complaint to no one but myself is a stalling tactic, a way of not doing anything instead of something. That perfectionist in me that still can dominate my use of time. Death around me has been a depressive catalyst, yet also a motivator -- I really would like to be discovered and remembered, but unless I have some finished books, articles or art in the world before I pass from it, my legacy does not seem likely. Even Leonardo daVinci had completed work as well as the beloved notebooks of all his scattered genius. |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
