Bad Writing 4

Amy Amschler said she would read my blogs.
She was thinking that my posts might be funny.
I told her they weren't.
She said she would read my blogs.

Writing is powerful.  It is an enormous responsibility.

One of my facebook friends, (I say friend because I think he is cool and smart; he is a compelling commentary writer as well as a brilliant story teller -- plus he speaks for democratic values -- is he my friend?, who cares -- I think he's cool!), is speaking with Syd Field at a Writer's Conference in Los Angeles this weekend.  I know he'll be sharp and engaging.
He sat with Clint Eastwood before Clint's chair episode at the Republican National Convention.

I am working with Linda Seger, who indicated that my screenplay, "Johnny Blood" is 4-5 out of ten in terms of the people that she has worked with.  Ron Howard is one of her clients.  I have a baseline from the best.  I am proud.

Linda indicated that she could bring the play to 6-7 in the next re-write.  Ba-a-a-a-a-a-ang.  (It will take nine months for me to do a re-write due to my interminably cumbersome mental processing that is essential to my moving on -- and that is just the way it is -- when I see it that'll be it.)

I am so very proud of myself.  So thankful that I persevere.  I had a vision when I was younger that I was talking to myself when I was older.  Now I am older and I can hear what I was telling my younger self.  "It's alright."  I, in my 59th year, said to myself in my 38th year, "It's alright."  That it will be alright.  That the light is there when I arrive.  I have arrived.  I have arrived at a place where I look in the mirror and can say, "Job well done."  Thank you, Lynn, for not succumbing to suicide, for persevering, for continuing in a way that is hopeful.  That as my mother indicated "makes a difference."  I do make difference.  I see it.  I see when I take a student and talk about little things that relax and take the student to a place of hope.  Brandon, Avery, Terrill, Cree, all my babies.

And my beautiful birth children, who feel in ways that are not comfortable, and strive for truth and justice, who speak on behalf of those who are unable to speak.  I make a difference.  And my strength is that I lived through the pain.  I stood up and walked right past the pain.  I took it and make it an altar to see beyond to the tomorrow.  It is now, this tomorrow.  Thank you, Lynn, age 38, that you trusted me.