Holiday Ramble

Thanksgiving is a holiday that I am conflicted about. I love the idea of taking time out of our busy schedules to think about what we have in our lives that we can truly be thankful for. I think people should do this more often - myself included. I am a lucky woman to have the life that I do, and I try to appreciate it whenever I am feeling down or stressed or irritated. It doesn't always work, but it does put things into perspective.
I like the big meal with family, too, but this is what I am conflicted about. I love seeing my family. This year my great grandfather had dinner with us - 5 generations in one room. It was spectacular. He's going to be 97 in December, and every chance he has to see my kids is special for everyone. The part about the meal that I feel conflicted about is the permission to gorge that we grant ourselves. Struggling constantly with my own food issues and weight battle has made me very conscious of the growing problem of obesity in America - alongside the hordes of people who are starving. As we enter into the Christmas season, we should think about giving back, sharing our food and our love. Being with loved ones should be enough. We shouldn't have to binge drink and eat to enjoy ourselves, and we should think about the people who don't have enough. There are more and more of them. This is what I am going to try to do.
My husband and I are starting a month of healthy living. We're going to eat right, exercise, try to be more positive in our thoughts and actions, and abstain from our vices. It seems like the most difficult time to do it with all of the holiday goodies that will soon abound. I think it will improve us physically and emotionally. Hopefully, our good vibes will spread to everyone around us, and make the holiday season that much brighter.

It's official

I uploaded my manuscript to the NaNoWriMo site today, and I am officially a winner. It was an amazing experience, and I am already thinking about the script frenzy competition they hold in April. It was so fun and a definite learning experience. Loved it and I'm pretty proud of myself. :)

The Emptiness

Ernest Hemingway wrote about the emptiness that comes when a project is finished, and I have been experiencing that for the last couple days. The NaNoWriMo novel was an amazing experience, but it put me in such a frenzy that now that it's done, I can't look at it. I don't want to read it right now. I'm hoping I will eventually. When I finished I felt completely spent creatively. That's the emptiness. The feeling of having nothing left to say, and the fear that nothing else will ever come, that you will stay forever empty.
In some ways I'm not a very rational person, and I do not handle this fear very well. My dream is to be a writer, and the idea of having nothing left to put down on paper is absolutely terrifying. Luckily, it didn't last long this time. I'm working on a short story idea. I also have two books that need more revising, but it is hard to stay focused on revising. I need to be constantly creating.
When I'm not creating, I read. I used to read constantly, but two young children have made it difficult. I've also found that reading while I am writing something tends to distract me and taint my writing with whatever style I happen to be reading at the time. The only book I can read when I am writing is Hemingway's A Movable Feast. That book changed my life. It's what inspired me to start writing again, and gave me insight into the creation of a story.
I wonder if the emptiness is what made him shoot himself. It seems plausible. To spend your entire life writing and find that there just isn't anything left. It must happen eventually. Of course, I think great writers are all pretty messed up, lots of drinking and drugs. I try not to be afraid of the emptiness. I have theatre to help fill me up and my family to support me. So far, I am having luck with my writing. I'm satisfied with that.

Fulfillment

For the last two nights my students have been performing The Wizard of Oz, and they were fabulous. It makes me think about how amazing it is to have a job that is completely fulfilling. Seeing how much the kids loved being in the show and just the amazing energy of the performance nights, make me realize how much I love my job. Middle school is no picnic, and it hasn't always been easy, but it's always worth it.
I finished my novel for NaNoWriMo, and I'm pretty proud of myself. It's a freeing experience to just write without judging yourself, and I got a story written that I've been working on in my head for over a year. I'm going to do another revision on my other book and possibly start querying a couple agents. I can't ever stop working, and I am determined to get at least one of my books published.
I guess I'm just feeling really fulfilled creatively and happy with my life in general. Life is good, and I'm excited for the next projects. I'm extremely lucky to have everything I have, and sometimes it's good to just acknowledge it.

Thoughts about age

I've been thinking about age lately. A lot of my friends are turning 30 or getting close to it, and they complain and worry about it constantly. I'll be 29 soon, but I don't have the same fear that my friends seem to have. To me, age is just a number and how you feel is much more important. When I was a teenager and into my early twenties, I felt old. I was tired and depressed and very pessimistic. Some days I feel like I wasted that time, but usually I am able to see it as a catalyst for the growth of my character. It had to be the way it was, or I wouldn't be where I am today.
These days, I feel young. I don't feel 29. I enjoy life more than I used to and I have a surplus of creative ideas. I feel great. I feel like my thirties are going to be great because I know who I am and what is important.
I've always loved the elderly. I love talking to them and hearing their stories. I think it must be amazing to have lived so long and have known so many people and done so many things. I'm not afraid of growing old. I know it won't always be pleasant, but it will be an adventure.

I Won't Mourn For You

A guy from my high school died the other day. No cause was listed. It just said he died in his residence in Maui. He was one of my best friends for the first couple years of school. Of course after that he was probably one of my least favorite people. I think it's strange how people expect you to mourn anyone who dies, no matter what your previous relationship to them was and no matter how long it had been since you last spoke. I haven't talked to the guy in 12 years, but when my grandmother called her voice was full of fake sympathy, and I felt like I should be sad. I'm not. Later, talking to my mom it was the same thing. Oh it's so sad, etc. etc.
I probably sound like a jerk, but I just don't mourn for people that I haven't spoken to, and honestly, don't even know anymore. I've changed so much since high school and I'm sure he had, too. I'm sorry for his family. It's terrible to lose a loved one, but I shouldn't be expected to go to pieces over it.
I feel like I think about death differently than most people. I'm not afraid of it. I believe in reincarnation, so it's not the end of everything as far as I'm concerned. It's a new beginning, and who wouldn't want that? I also think that some people enjoy mourning and will take any opportunity to make someone else's tragedy their own. That drives me nuts.
So, I won't mourn for this guy. I've been thinking about when we were friends and trying to avoid the memories of when we were not. I'm trying to send positive vibes out into the world. That's the best I can do.

flaws

Ahhh...finally a day with no responsibilities other than the ones to my kids. It's a nice feeling. I'm hoping to spend most of my free time today working on the novel for NaNoWriMo. I've had a couple of fairly productive days. This project is really great. I've had this idea brewing for a while but never wrote it because it was a different style from what I usually write, and I wasn't sure if it would work. This forces me to just write and not second guess myself. I am finding that I do that a lot when I write. I'm always worried about who will read it. I should really just write it and let whoever wants to read it, read it.
The story is really coming along well. I know it's not all great, but parts of it are, and I'm excited that even if I don't finish it by the end of November, I will have a novel that I can revise and try to market. It's kind of exciting to let myself write something without worrying about it. It's freeing.
Self-censorship is one of my biggest flaws. I'm always so worried about what people will think that I barely talk. I'm trying to be more outgoing, but it is difficult. When I do talk to people, I agonize about every word I said and what they might have thought, and I'm very negative about it. It's kind of ridiculous when I step back and look at it from a more rational state of mind.
You can't be afraid of what other people think when you're in theatre or writing. You're putting yourself out there every time you put on a show or give someone something you wrote. It's been good for me. Pride was a big thing when I was growing up, but I think it was taken too far. I was a huge jerk when I was younger and got knocked down pretty far. I still have my moment of ridiculous pride, but I'm learning balance. That's my constant project, finding the balance.

Gobbledygook

I woke up ridiculously early this morning after barely sleeping. What sleep I got last night was filled with dreams of writing and revising, weird writing stress dreams. I made good progress on the NaNoWriMo novel yesterday, just over 6,000 words. It's a start. It's fun project. I've been thinking about this book for a while, and it gives me an excuse to write it and not stop to worry about whether it's any good or not. It's a different style from what I usually write, and I'm hoping I can turn it into a novel. I think I can.
I just realized this morning that I have two weeks until Wizard of Oz goes up. I was a little stressed thinking about my double rehearsal Tuesdays and then got more stressed when I realized that there were only two and the show goes up really soon. I have a lot to do, but these things always pull together in the end. The after school program just had a week long break, so I am really hoping the kids are off book. They were starting to be before we took a week off, but I never know what to expect from the kids. Some are really into it and work really hard and others just blow it off but somehow pull through last minute. It's nerve wracking.
The holidays are fast approaching, and I have barely had any time to think about them. Thanksgiving is three weeks away and Christmas is about six. I'm so focused on shows and writing right now, that I'm not sure where we're going for Thanksgiving or if we're staying home. Part of me wants to just stay home and relax, but holidays have always been about family, and the kids should not miss out just because I'm tired. It was kind of crazy taking on two shows this fall/winter, but I think they're going to turn out well. Still, I'll be glad to have Jan-March to relax and just teach theatre games and scene writing twice a week. This week will be tough, next week will be tougher, then it will be slightly easier until we get into crunch time for Christmas Carol. My mind is so scattered right now.

NaNoWriMo

I just joined NaNoWriMo, a week late, which makes it even more challenging. The goal is to write a 50,000 word novel by the end of November without worrying about editing or anything. It's all about output and quantity. I like the idea a lot. I don't know how well I'll do. I've joined a week late, and I have two shows going on right now - one goes up in a week, but I have to try it. If I don't get it done this year, I'll try again next year. I was just thinking about how I only have revision projects right now and nothing creative. This is the perfect thing to fill that need. There is no real pressure, though I would like to finish in the time limit. If I don't, I'll have the start of a new novel to work on. Such a cool thing.
Writing is a great answer to frustration, and I have quite a bit of that right now. It's better to channel it into something productive. This is perfect. I'm considering writing at night after everyone has gone to bed, but I'm always so exhausted by the end of the day. I should start dragging my butt out of bed at 5 again. That would give me a couple extra hours. I've taken on a major challenge. 50,000 words in 3 weeks is a little daunting, but I'll try my best. What else can I do?

I still like my musical :)

I re-read the first draft of my musical tonight, and I still like it. When I haven't been working on something I start to think that there must be something wrong with it, but it's fine. It needs a lot of work, but it is a good place to start. I'm looking forward to collaborating with Andy and Rob on it. They'll help me fill out the plot, make it funny, and add some good music. It's going to be spectacular. Really excited about it.

Short Story - The Nighttime Girl

Here's a short story I've been working on. I'm thinking about submitting it to a literary magazine. It actual came from a blog I wrote earlier. It started out as a poem, but the poem became more of a story, so I changed it. I'd love feedback.

The Nighttime Girl
By Em Frappier

Every night I stand at my window. The deep darkness has fallen, and it is the bewitching time between late night and early morning. The street is empty, save for her, the nighttime girl. She sits on the stoop across the street. I’ve seen her there often, almost every night. She’s an average girl, nothing all that special about her, except she cries. The intensity varies from night to night, but it always there. It’s part of who she is. I would never know her if we passed during the day. Without the pain, her face would be unremarkable.
Sometimes she speaks. Sometimes she screams at the sky, throwing her hands in the air and wailing. Other times her voice is low, and she wraps her arms around her legs, pulling her body into a tight ball on the step. No matter what I always hear her words. She knows I listen to her. Through her tears, she sees me, but we have never spoken. I listen and watch, and she cries.
Tonight she screams at the sky. Asking for a reason for her pain, but no answer comes. No answer ever comes. She rages and screams at the moon, then repents and begs forgiveness. The night is her lover, and their relationship is a tumultuous one. She’s afraid of being alone and simultaneously afraid of other people. She is mostly afraid of herself. Self-hatred pours from her lips. She screams into the night. It’s late, and I wonder where her parents are and why they do not come. She looks at me suddenly, and the screaming stops. She folds her hands calmly in her lap. The silence is heavy around us. Our eyes connect, and I cannot look away. She does not speak, but I hear her questions. She wants to express the darkness inside her and have someone understand. Her eyes accuse and never waver.
She wants me to help her, but I don’t. Part of me wants to hug her and tell her it will be alright, but I don’t know if it will be. I don’t want to lie to this girl. She would know. The desire to run is strong, but I have no where to go. So, I stay in my place at the window, and I do nothing. Every time, I do nothing.
The girl continues to look at me, challenging me to change and wondering why I will not help her. I don’t have an answer. Maybe I want her to stay the way she is. Perhaps I am afraid I will have to change if she does. Who am I without the nighttime girl? I don’t really want to know.
We stare at each other a while longer, unable to turn away. I do understand her. I have seen the world through her eyes, and I know her. The whole time she continues to cry. I marvel that she can have so many tears. I have always shed very few.
The girl looks away, and I am free. I quickly turn my back to her, unwilling to see anymore. Michael rolls over in bed. The moon is on my face, and I know he can see me. He doesn’t say anything as he slowly climbs out of bed and runs his hands over his face, fighting back the sleep his body craves. He stands behind me and places his hands on my shoulders. The girl has vanished into the darkness, and the street is quiet and empty. Michael turns me from the window and guides me back to bed. Once safely in his arms, I feel sleep come, but even as I begin to drift off I can hear the crying of the nighttime girl.

Writing Update

I stayed up until midnight last night writing. It was great. I haven't had any time to write the last couple of days, and I needed to have a few hours of quiet. I wrote a short story and started outlining a play. I've been working on my books for quite a while and need to create some drama again.
This weekend we are starting work on the musical, and I am excited about it. I've wanted to write a musical for a long time, and this idea has had several different forms over the years. I think the team working on it will make it great. We all bring something to the project, and it's going to be a lot of fun. We've been discussing the idea of filming it first as a musical movie, but making it very easy to adapt to the stage. It's going to be a really fun project.
I submitted two of my plays to Playscripts yesterday. They published my other script, so I'm hoping they might like one or both of these. I really like this company. They're easy to work with and the final product is really nice. They're also economical for directors, which is important these days.
I love starting new projects, but the time between is rough. I have a lot of ideas right now, and it is hard to focus on just one.
That's my writing update. I'm having a creative period and trying to enjoy every second of it!

Silence

I've been thinking about silence a lot lately. I used to be surrounded by silence. I've been a quiet person for a long time. I was a loud child and learned quickly that the people around me did not like it. So, I stopped talking. High school was rough. I went to a private school, and the people there were not like me. I was angry then, really angry. I didn't say much because when I did I was ridiculed. By the time I got to college, I was a master of silence. I hardly ever spoke. It helped that I had a roommate who talked constantly and probably wouldn't have let me get a word in even if I tried. There were very few people I trusted. I talked to them, but mostly they talked. I've always been drawn to people who love to talk. My silence made some people uncomfortable, but I was also a really good listener.

I don't regret the silence. It made me a good observer, which is key in both writing and theatre. I've started to talk more. Having kids makes it impossible to be silent, and I think it's been good for me. They shoved me out of my comfort zone. Silence is too easy. It made me feel invisible. I started to actually believe it for a while. No one notices you when you're silent. Having the kids made me realize that I am a person who deserves to be heard. I'm starting to feel the way I did as a child. Free to be myself and talk and laugh and be honest about my thoughts and feelings. It is difficult, but I'm finding freedom is far better than silence.

Now silence means something else to me. The rare moment of silence is a gift, a chance to relax and breathe deep. The change was apparent to me yesterday. I was in the denist's office, waiting for the nurse to get everything set up. I was alone, looking out the window at the river, and the only sound was soft music playing in the background. I took a deep breath and felt more relaxed than I have in a long time. I spend my days with my kids. I work with kids. There is no silence in my life except for the nights, when I'm not able to enjoy it because I'm trying to force myself to sleep. I couldn't help but smile at my enjoyment of that moment of silence at the dentist, but I'll take it where I can get it.

Life's Path

I sold another copy of my play yesterday to someone in Mississippi. This is the second copy that has sold to someone who doesn't know me. I am elated. It makes me feel like a real writer. I am so glad I chose the life I did. Living in a beautiful place with a wonderful family and writing is just about as ideal a life as I could imagine. My husband has been so supportive of this choice, and I don't think I would have even tried without his belief in me. I've always loved writing, but didn't have any support when I was younger. My family reads a lot, but writing was looked upon as something as silly as theatre. 'You can't make a living doing that.' It always seemed like you did well in school, got a job that paid well enough to live, and then just did it for the rest of your life until you retired or died. You weren't expected to like your job. In fact, you would hate it but do it anyway because that's how things are done.
I'm the black sheep of my family. I don't agree with them about a lot of things, and this was a big one. I knew that I loved writing and theatre and that I hate 9-5 jobs. I hate being told what to do, and I have to always be creating or I'm not happy. Choosing to go to school for theatre was (in my family's view) a stupid thing to do. Luckily, it was still the time when it was largely believed that if you went to college (no matter your major) you could get a better job, so I got to major in theatre. They thought I would change my major, but I didn't.
I'm not trying to be down on my family. I love them, and I know they love me. We just don't understand each other. It's almost like speaking a different language. They've been proud of me. I won an award for writing at my high school graduation and got an honors award for theatre in college. Those are things that are easy for them to be proud of, and they were. It's harder to understand my role in theatrical productions, though they tried. They've changed a lot since then. I think they are beginning to understand where I'm coming from.
I think that most of my family's hesitation about trying things comes from fear, fear of failure or of going against the norm. I understand it. Who doesn't have those fears? But, when it comes to writing and theatre, I don't have those fears. That's how I know I need to do these things. Because I believe I can succeed, and I am not afraid to try. They thought I was crazy to get 2 degrees in theatre, but now I teach middle school kids theatre. They thought I was crazy to start my own theatre company, but we're on our third show and doing well. They thought the writing was the most crazy of all, but now I have a published play that is selling and have completed 2 books. I don't know if they believe in me more now, but they can't argue with concrete accomplishments. To be fair to my family, they never said I was crazy for any of these things (except the major in theatre). It was never spoken, but it was plainly obvious. Their eyes would go blank when I started to talk about the things I wanted to try, and they would nod politely. It used to make me so angry and hurt, but now I see it as fear. I understand them a little, and I think they understand me a little.
I'm really glad I chose this path, and I cannot wait to see where it leads me. I truly believe that if you love something enough and work hard to succeed, you can find a way to make it happen. Life should be enjoyed.

The Nighttime Girl

Another night with almost no sleep. The sleep I did get was filled with weird dreams. I always dream about people chasing me and trying to hurt me in some way. They never do, but the entire dream is always the breathless terror of being pursued. If my dreams were made into horror movies I would be rich. I often wonder what it means. I used to be interested in dream interpretation, but I could never find anything that pertained to my dreams. Nighttime used to be my favorite time, but now it just makes me worry. I have to use visualization to occupy my mind until I fall asleep. If I don't, I will spend hours lying awake and worrying - about real things and imagined. I find it incredibly difficult to keep a positive outlook at night. There's a line from The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway that sums it up: It is awfully easy to be hard-boiled about everything in the daytime, but at night it is another thing.

I've always liked that line. Nighttime disturbs me. When I was a teenager I had bad bouts of insomnia. I hardly ever slept. When I think back, I am amazed that I was able to function, let alone do as well in school as I did. I wrote a lot then, too. Mostly poetry, dark moody teenager poetry, but it was a good outlet. I always need an outlet of some kind. I wrote my first play in high school, and my theatre teacher let me direct it my senior year. I wish I still had the script. It was pretty terrible, but it would be fun to see it again. I had no sense of how to write dialogue back then. That was a benefit of my theatre education. I learned a lot about dialogue and character development from my classes, and my writing has greatly improved because of it.

I didn't write the whole time I was in college - not creatively anyway. I didn't sleep either. I worked like crazy on every show I could, sometimes as many as 7 at once. I was crazy and angry and addicted to energy drinks. I didn't have an outlet, so I buried myself in work. I believed then that I would spend my life working like that. I'm glad I chose a different path. College seems so important and so difficult while you're there. Afterward, it seems like a picnic, though I would never want to go back.

The reason I didn't write in college was because I didn't have any confidence. I didn't dare to put my ideas down for others to read until after I had my daughter. Being a parent forces you to have some confidence. Little ones need you, and you have to believe that you are capable of helping them survive. I also started working with kids in theatre around the same time, and it opened up my writing ideas. Before I only wanted to write about eating disorders. I've had eating disorders since I was 13. I never got into drugs. I don't drink much, and I've never felt like I needed to. I chose food instead. It's taken me this long to understand that food can be an addiction. I struggle with it every single day, and I think I will for my entire life. It wasn't something I could write about back then. I was too close to the subject and couldn't put it into words. Now, I have a lot of other ideas, and I don't try to write about it anymore. The musical I'm going to be working on with my husband and our friend, Rob, is loosely based on eating disorders, but it is more about the dual messages of being thin and eating fattening processed food that the media shoves in our faces daily. But, it will be funny and not preachy.
These days, though eating is a struggle, I try to stay focused on being healthy and setting a good example for my kids. I think I'm doing pretty well. I lost 40pounds last year and have maintained it through the summer and fall. I've got my husband eating better and exercising, and my kids love being active and their favorite foods are fruits and veggies. I've made a lot of progress from the sleepless, sick girl I used to be, but sometimes, at night, she's still very much a part of me.

Cell Phones and Revisions

I got a cell phone. I've been against them for a long time. I don't really like talking on the phone, and I don't like the idea of always being able to be found. Lately, I've been more interested in having one. If nothing else, we have a phone number to give the babysitter. Now that I have it, I like it. I shouldn't be excited about it, but I am. More and more I find myself attached to electronics. The world is more connected but maybe also less so. It's the way the world is, and I'm trying to get by.
I'm between writing projects right now, which means revisions. I'm revising my first book for, hopefully, the last time. It's available through lulu.com, but I'm still fixing it up before I buy the ISBN. I love my book, but revisions drive me nuts. This is the 5th one for this book, and I think it will be the best it can be after this one.