Dusting the cobwebs off my creativity

Hi! I’m back. This space has always been on my mind, but my creative life has been kinda garbage this fall. Not that I haven’t had ideas and made plans or taken classes and experienced the creative world — I haven’t executed much of anything.

Why?

I enrolled in school full time and, whoosh! has it been an adjustment. A draining, terrifying, rejuvenating experience. And I ended the semester with 4 A’s!!!!

My goal, although I don’t make resolutions, is to prioritize creativity. I’m struggling right now. Last week I printed out a few WIPs (over 500 pages) and have been skimming. You know what? I’m not half bad at this writing thing…

Our RWA chapter has a goals night every month, and I’ve challenged myself to rework the central conflict on a story that has been haunting me for about 4 years. I’d love to finish and release it into the universe. It’s been sorta complete for about a year and a half, but there’s something not quite right that holds me back from querying. That, and I still struggle calling myself a novelist. BUT I just read (Not Just) Another Book on the Craft of Screenwriting by Max Timm, and Timm talks about how he’d created a script he was very proud of but execs all said there needed to be source material. So he wrote an award-winning book to go along with his screenplay. Well, for the past 2 years or so, my plan had been, since I’m pretty certain Novelist shouldn’t be my primary job title, to take all these mostly finished drafts and turn them into scripts for film and TV. Once I’d made that decision, ideas started coming for new stories. But after reading Timm’s books, I was like doggonit, I’m gonna have to finish these books AND their screenplays. I can’t abandon one for the other, not if I want to be a professional storyteller. I mean, I’ve accomplished a few things: I’ve self-published and been paid for other writings, had a play produced, written for my school’s newspaper, and been paid to edit the works of others. I introduce myself as a writer & editor and love the work I do for others.

Working for myself, though, I struggle to get going whenever I have down time, which hasn’t been often since starting back at school. I’ve been ripped from sleep by ideas and restlessness to do … something … That something usually looks like me brewing a pot of coffee and sitting on the couch scrolling through Twitter. This morning I rose an hour earlier than usual and dusted off a long-abandoned craft box. My kids and I used to make homemade gifts for their teachers, so I have soap kits, wood crafts, paper crafts, fabrics, knitting & crochet implements, canvases & paint, and clay stacked up in a corner of my basement.

I read somewhere that when you find yourself stalled (I won’t use blocked) in your primary artform, work in another. So I’m crafting this morning and writing to you–yay creativity!

My budding army of snow people.

I’m making pins and ornaments to get my creative juices going (and inspire holiday cheer — bah-humbug). I haven’t created these in several years, but this Sculpey clay I’ve amassed and abandoned still do what it do.

This year has been another of me doing things I hadn’t really expected but always hoped for. I wish the same for you.

Blessing y’all.

Event Horizon

Because Facebook has a penchant for reminding its users of past posts, and thus reminding me of a monumental moment in my life occurred two years ago this week (and I’m ridiculously off on my blog posting schedule), this Pschology Sunday is going to be literal and personal.

I think most people can pinpoint a specific moment where their lives changed–good, bad, or otherwise. For me, few years ago I suffered a personal trauma and found myself in a deep depression. I ain’t gonna front. It was ugly. I didn’t have the skills to cope, so I went out and learned them through Cognitive Behavioral Therapy. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a start. Drugs helped me get out of bed, but CBT taught me skills to get through the day, and the next, and the next…

I’m still a work in progress.

That trauma, though, wasn’t my turning point. What changed my life was chatting with my therapist who didn’t tell me I was crazy like I’d feared. Instead, he helped me understand I was profoundly lonely.

Two years ago, my therapist challenged me to make some friends by joining Meet Up. Through that I found my way to a #lifeofyes presentation and #fearexperiment

I wanted to sing, but a capella wasn’t offered at FE10. And my introversion definitely wasn’t cool with me doing improv, so I danced. Gloria Mwez is an amazing and patient, and firm dance coach. She pulled so much out of our DE7 crew. Since then some of us have moved across the country, gotten engaged and married, attained degrees, started new careers, written books, traveled the globe, produced art, and checked boxes off our bucket lists we didn’t know were there. I’m mad proud of all of my FE10 family and myself!

I’m honored to be a part of the Fear Experiment family–in more ways than I can articulate. Yo! A bunch of strangers got together, learned new skills, and performed on the stage at the Park West, y’all! I also had an allergy fit because of the smoke machine during our last couple of numbers, but I DID THAT! sneezing and runny eyes and all. I DID THAT!

That’s me in the orange. Big hair don’t care!

Today I was having a discussion about meaningful touch, and Saya Hillman through her Mac n Cheese Productions was brought up as one whose touch changes lives with her superpower of facilitation. I’m so thankful that she is who she is. And I’m grateful to my chosen family and my blood family for showing up to support me then and now.

Fear Experiment 10

One thing I learned in CBT and from Saya is to DO IT SCARED. Fear is natural, but we can’t let it stop us from attempting to live our best lives. It’s easy to be fooled into thinking where we are is the best version of ourselves, but when we tap into that childlike ambition and fearlessness to try it anyway, we’re better for it. We may look silly or be terrible or be amazing. *shrugs* so what? We tried. And trying beats standing still and waiting for life to come to you. If we don’t keep moving we’ll stiffen to stone, becoming bitter and immovable. That’s not the legacy I want to leave behind.

How about you?

Blessings, y’all.

Halfway There

I went ahead and signed up for NaNoWriMo and instantly regretted it.

Here I am with no discernible novel project and a paltry word count built from a writing prompt — I’m halfway to nothing. But the only thing I feel bad about is making a public commitment. And I don’t feel all that bad about that.

Don’t get me wrong, NaNoWriMo is a great motivator for many writers, just not this writer. Historically, I’ve just had too much going on in November. It’s a common excuse, I know, but one I will hang my hat on yet again. The first time I quit NaNo was the first year I attempted it back in like 2013, and boy did I feel like garbage for doing so. I’ve matured since then.

This year I knew I couldn’t do it, and I was pretty confident that I didn’t want to do it. But I signed up anyway in an attempt to be my own superhero.

NaNoWriMo is my antigen.

I don’t need to prove to myself that I can best NaNo. I’m awesome at so many other things.

Moving on…

Auditions for my play were this past weekend and we start rehearsals soon. Everyone meets tomorrow night, but I’m still revising my script. Time to charge up those super powers and crush this deadline!

Challenges don’t scare me so much anymore. I know I can buckle down and get my to-do list cleared, still, I refuse to feel bad about NaNo.

My goals haven’t changed. I’m halfway there. Writing on the Wall auditions were so good! It took everything in me not to cry my eyes out while watching so many talented actors embody my words. I hate that everyone who auditioned couldn’t be in the show, but we got the best people who will work their tails off for this production.

The team has been assembled and rehearsals start this week, so we’re halfway there. Evidence of our hard work will be revealed on January 5, 2018. It’s surreal, ya know, that dreams I had as a teenager are coming true as I approach another birthday. These ideas and passions that formed half a lifetime ago have never left me.

Every end is the beginning of something else. Find the positives and illuminate them. Let your dreams guide you.

Blessings, y’all.

Hide Not Your Talents…

“Hide not your talents, they for use were made. What is a sundial in the shade?” Benjamin Franklin

These past several weeks have been a whirlwind of activity. First, I had been laser focused on completing a draft of a novel so I could share it with my generous early readers, but then … I don’t even know what happened, and I haven’t slowed down enough to assess things.

Where is August? September? The summer!?

What I can say is, Destiny called, and I was more than eager to answer. When you put the desires of your heart out there in the Universe, don’t be surprised when you get just what you’ve asked for.

For me, Destiny came calling at the same time as resignation. I had tentatively accepted a second-shift office manager job but my savings account wouldn’t allow me to wait until the company was ready for me, so I signed up for temp assignment. Anyway, around that same time, a fella I casually knew posted on SM that he needed an intern to help him manage his theater and an upcoming production.

Well, I had been dragging my feet for a year…A YEAR! instead of reaching out to him for advice on breaking into theatrical work, so when this opportunity presented itself, I added myself to the conversation before I could chicken out.

Here we are three months later.

Back in January I announced that 2017 was going to bow down and submit to my ambition, beginning with publishing a novella I had been futzing with for years.

Well, the self-imposed deadline came and went, but 2017 ain’t over yet. Writing on the Wall is now a play and will open January 2018.

I’m pretty chuffed, but at the same time this opportunity is one I’ve been preparing for for years. There had been doubts and misgivings and all sorts of anguish surrounding this project. I thought the resistance to finish this was because I didn’t have the skill or experience necessary to deliver the story.

In June I went to a writers conference and met with an editor who confirmed the voice in my head: you need a film/TV agent because your stories aren’t right for print.

Well, I don’t have an agent (yet), but in a matter of hours I’ll be in the room with agents and publicists and journalists for stage and screen who have come for the show I’ve been assisting with, and I don’t doubt I’ll be pitching my own ideas as well.

I’ve said yes to too many things and people who weren’t in-line with my goals. It’s high time I said yes to my own dreams and spend my creative energies on my-own-damn-self. And you know what? I don’t have the slightest flutter of nerves. This is what I’ve been studying for. This is what I’ve spent thousands of hours writing and rewriting for. This moment is a culmination of training and sacrifice. It’s up to me to sustain my previous habits and adapt them to my new arena.

My prayers are being answered, and I have taken Destiny’s hand. All I had to do was say Yes.

 

May your hard work place you in the path of blessings so that you are prepared to receive them too.

If you’re in or around Chicago, come say hi and maybe check out The Indescribable Gift. Tickets are at www.mckayarts.net

Blessings, y’all!

The Beautiful One

The first anniversary of Prince Rogers Nelson’s passing is approaching, and I’ve been surprisingly filled with all sorts of anxiety and sadness. Disbelief still holds the first-place position, though. When I learned Prince had passed, regret moved in like a dark cloud and hasn’t really left me.

I missed Prince’s run in Vegas. I missed when he came to Chicago a few years ago because I refused to justify the expense of the ticket. There isn’t a lot on my bucket list, but seeing Prince perform live was right up there at the top. However, I do take a bit of comfort in the memory of an evening spent under a wondrous cloud of funk, rock, and soul provided by The Purple Experience with the one and only Dr. Fink on keyboards. Oh man, what a great night!

And then Prince was dead.

Grieving a stranger is maybe a by-product of this invasive society we live in that is fueled by social media and twenty-four-hour reality programming. But in so many ways artists aren’t really strangers, are they? When I was growing up, wars had been waged on who was doper: Michael or Prince. I was team Prince 1,000,000%. Don’t get me wrong, I was shocked when Mike passed, but Michael Jackson’s music never reached the fibers of my being the way Prince’s music does.

Artists give pieces of themselves in every work they create. And Prince gave it all while keeping every hair in place and never smudging his guy-liner. The man was just so cool…and beautiful. I wish I had chronicled my style transformations so I could do side-by-side comparisons with Prince’s latest music video, but I just hated to take pictures. You’ll have to take my word for it. Teenage me was dope.

I’ve tried to live without regrets, but it seems like my “I wish I had’s” are primarily associated with The Artist.

Every single day I try my damnedest to say Yes and treat myself more. To honor me in a way that only I can. Maybe there really is something to this turning forty and self-esteem getting about a gazillion espresso shots thing, but yeah. I’m trying everything that gets me excited, and that’s quite a lot of stuff.

A moment with the King of Cool

Back at the end of February, I was in Minneapolis for an impromptu anniversary get away. Twenty years of not-quite marital bliss (we don’t count the year-plus we were separated and divorced) warranted a gift like no other: A trip to Paisley Park!

When I say I was nervous, it’s only because I don’t have a word to more succinctly describe the Moses-caliber swarm of butterflies in my belly as the minutes drew closer to our tour time. While I was threatening to blow chunks in the car, my husband laughed. Like seriously laughed at me for freaking out. This is what he said to me: “I don’t think Prince would want you acting like this. He was a cool guy and wants you to be you because your you is cool.”

My me turned out to be spastic during the tour, singing and dancing along to the music that floated above our heads mixed in with cinnamon and lavender while fighting my tears, but God was it one of the best times of my life. I wish I could have taken pictures inside, but the only area where photos are allowed is just outside the gift shop, where I needed one of everything and cried as the ladies rang me up while Prince’s Super Bowl performance played in the background.

Others have made or will make a powerful impact in their fields of expression, but no one can be Prince. 

Just like no one can be you.

Be authentically you. I dare you.

Blessings y’all!

Getting Started to Finish

Although I’ve been writing creatively for decades, I don’t really know what kind of writer I am. It’s not a genre thing, although that’s up for debate with each project I attempt. Yes, I said ‘attempt.’

(c)Disney

I had been a perpetual starter until I tried to focus on finishing. I take that back. I used to love following new ideas whenever they assaulted my brain until I started substantive editing other people’s work on a regular basis a few years ago. Then, as if I were some sort of literary Fix-it Felix, Jr. my mind became consumed with trying to make sense of the jumble of words presented to me. I mean, that’s what they’re paying me for, but editing, regrettably, had left me creatively exhausted. My own projects languished in arrested development for years and may remain there in perpetuity. I don’t know. But I’m not worried. Not one little bit.

Like I said in an earlier post, I don’t do resolutions, but I’ve got goals. And in 2017, I’m gonna finish a few projects. The thing is…where do I start? How do I start to finish?

Well, several weeks ago a writers’ group I belong to shared a link to a contest, and after giving it a breath of thought, I decided I’d write something to submit. What did I have to lose? I actually have everything to gain: starting and finishing a project, proving to myself that I am good enough, sucking and surviving, fulfilling a lifelong dream…I could go on.

That day, while we folded clothes, my daughter and I developed the rough framework for a book that we love. Even the Mister and the sons got in on pulling the idea from my head and onto paper over the next several days, but still. I sat on the idea for a few weeks, not writing a single word, not even to take our notes and forming them into an outline. There were some extenuating circumstances, but I could have done something.

As the days to my self-imposed deadline grew closer, the fretting over how to get a fully formed idea from my head onto the page increased. Then I remembered that I had tools. “I can fix it!”

One Stop for Writers keeps expanding their arsenal of resources, so a couple of days ago I created a new timeline in my Workspace for this new project.

 

One Stop for Writers: Timeline Example

 

I populated each point with key phrases, even getting that backstory bug out of my system in the process. For me, the backstory often wears me out because I know so much about my characters that there’s little left for me to discover, and I’ve learned that I’m kind of an explorer, but I need a map. When I write, I’ve often been struck by a clear scene that takes place just before the climax and have to work my way backward. When I know the end from the beginning, it’s kind of hard for me to stay hype about the project after weeks (*cough* years) of drafting and not really getting anywhere.

I feel like I’m not making sense…but that’s how drafting has been for me. Nonsensical.

Good storytelling is about maintaining momentum. And I have a short attention span. Once I’ve written the scenes that initially got me hype, I don’t want to go back, but I don’t see much ahead. So what do I do? I stop.

This time, though, with the help of my timeline courtesy of One Stop for Writers, I’m able to draft and outline almost simultaneously. So far, there’s this excitement about the process of writing because there are things I’m discovering, for a change. With the timeline, I don’t have the space to dig deep even though I see all. I have OSFW open in one window and my doc open in another. As I create my scene list/timeline, I jump into my doc and draft. I’ve started! And it’s pretty friggin thrilling.

That manic need to crack my skull open to let my story pour out is back. I’ve missed it. This time, though, I’m just as excited about finishing as I had been about starting.

Blessings y’all.

 

 

I am Not Throwing Away My Shot

So… I saw Hamilton.

Love is kind of weak a term to ascribe to my feelings for last Tuesday night’s Chicago performance. **I’ve been MIA due to family being in town for a funeral, in case you were wondering… You can breathe now.

My kids had been sending me YouTube clips of Epic Rap Battles with Obama vs Romney and Einstein vs Hawking and Newton vs Nye for a long time. Like years. And they are crazy fun!

But one day my oldest sent me a song that she said was her new favorite, furthermore, she said she’d been playing the soundtrack on repeat for days. As a parent, I think it’s a rare gift when your college kid shares something they love with you, so I paid attention. When she told me I’d love the album, I didn’t doubt her assessment. I want to enjoy the things my kids enjoy, at the very least, I want to understand what they’re so excited about. For Hamilton, after I struggled through the first song, I ‘got’ the style of the show. And she was right. I loved it.

We’d been listening to the show for over a year when we heard Hamilton was coming to the Chi for an extended run, so we waited for tickets to go on sale. Price point? Ridiculous. And the show was sold out for about six months almost immediately. THEN!  A same-day lottery was set up for folks to see the show for $10 a ticket. Cool beans, right?

Well, I have entered that contest almost every day for nearly four months, my heart sinking with every “Daphne, unfortunately…” message. Then last Tuesday, when I was fighting a stomach bug instead of working my church’s food pantry while trying to clean my house and wrap my mind around a close death in the family and all the stress of that, I entered the daily drawing knowing I wouldn’t win…again.

A few hours later my email pinged, and there was my name again in the email body from Broadway Direct Lottery, but ‘unfortunately’ didn’t follow. I’d won! I almost wrecked my car when I tried to pull back into traffic after sending my husband an all-caps text. Tears pricked my eyes, oxygen struggled to reach my brain. I was pretty close to passing out from the news.

After I composed myself and got to my destination, I called and texted and called and texted my daughter since she was the one who turned me on to the show in the first place. Well, I caught up with her, and we had an amazing night. The show was just…beyond words (and just the distraction we needed from all the funeral business). I didn’t have any real concept of how the set would look, but I’d absorbed the Broadway soundtrack, and just wasn’t sure how a Chicago company could measure up.

Somebody should have told me to shut up and quit fronting like I knew what the heck I was even talking about. The Chicago cast is, in my not-so-professional opinion as good, and in some cases, better than the original Broadway cast that I listened to. I thought Miguel Cervantes’s turn as Alexander Hamilton was vocally stronger than Manuel’s recording. But adding to the strong performances, the physicality, the send up to ’80s and ’90s hip-hop culture, the call-and-response vibe of the script, and the genuine enthusiasm the cast seemed to radiate about the show made the production utterly smile-inducing and howl-worthy. They were speaking my language, and — OMG — Chris De’Sean Lee might just be my new favorite person. First, he was suave and cocksure as Lafayette, but his performance as a c-walking Thomas Jefferson had me nearly falling out of my seat every time. Not to mention Alexander Gemingnai as King George. Lawd! I could have listened to that cat roll his R’s all night. He played the crowd all the way to the back row (where I was sitting). His time on the stage was just too short. But my favorite-favorite-favorite part was how they all clowned Hamilton in the “Never Gon’ Be President Now” scene. I might have peed a little from laughing so hard at King George. But I was also digging the dirty South beats that had me unable to sit still. And Angelica, DAYUM. That girl can sang. Karen Olivio and Air Afsar sound so much like the soundtrack/original cast. I cannot say it enough: talent just poured off the stage.

Deep. Poetic. Hilarious. Velvety.  Bombastic. Addictive. Hamilton left me in awe. The stage was simple but genius, the ensemble cast was efficient and more than capable of handling the multiple hats they must wear. Sure, I was geeked to see Wayne Brady as Aaron Burr, sir. His acting prowess and vocal range totally shut my mouth about his sometimes hokey Whose Line is it Anyway days with this performance, although I did leave the theater saying “Is Wayne Brady gonna have to choke a bitch?” (min 2:23) for some reason.

As a creative, consuming art is vital to our existence. Create like you’re running out of time. Don’t throw away your shot to light a spark — you just might ignite a revolution.

Blessings, y’all.