Ms. March If You're...

Remember when I took us on a little timewarp back to some old blog writings? That was fun, right?

Let's do it again!

This was the first post on my blog back in March of 2010, Ms. March. Reading it fills me with SO MANY FEELINGS. Happiness, sadness, peace. Hope, fear, bravery. I feel lost and found and totally and completely crazypants. It's scary to read this and get the sense I could have written it all yesterday.

Read. Enjoy my musings on motivation, and yoga, and writing, and weight. All the things I still talk about now, three years later. I'm still so much the same. And so very different.

I’ve tried more than once to keep a blog, and have always failed rather miserably. I don’t know if I run out of things to say or if speaking to the emptiness of cyberspace gets to me, but my endeavors have never lasted more than a few weeks.

This is true of most things, for me. I’m a bit of a commitmentphobe, at least when it comes to things like this. Motivation for me is a tricky business, depended on factors both in and out of my control, and hard to hold onto for the time it takes to achieve anything. The things I do succeed at, like getting a college degree for instance, are generally because of pure luck and not any amount of effort on my part. I hate trying too hard because if (when) I ultimately fail, it’s a hell of a lot more painful.

Obviously, this is not good. I’ve come to realize over the last few months that I tend to float along in the proverbial river of life, paddle at my feet and hoping the power of my wishes becomes wind to push  me along. This silly metaphor could expanded further, even, if I were to consider the way most of my choices in life have been guided by something other than myself, a wave that crashes me against a rock and changes my path without my consent. I don’t fight against the waves, though, I don’t try to forge my own path or try to change my direction. I simply coast, and coasting has led me to the place I am now, a place I’m not too fond of, and very much would like to leave now please okay thanks.

For the past couple of years I’ve lost touch with who I am and what I want out of life, lost all connection with my body and soul and wants and needs. I don’t like who I am when I look in the mirror, or when I’m laying in bed and going over and over all the stupid things I think I’ve said over the past day, week, year. I obsess, I criticize, I judge, I worry, I panic, and then I eat. ‘Tis a vicious cycle of depression I’ve found myself in, and all I want is to leave it behind.

I have a plan.  Now, granted, I’ve made plans before and abandoned them very quickly. I’m fond of list making and scheduling, which (as my therapist tells me) satisfies my need to be productive without actually…being productive. However, this time is going to be different (hopefully). At this point in my life, if I don’t make the changes I need to now I may never will. I don’t want to spend my twenties fat and miserable.

I’ve already made steps forward that give me hope that maybe I will change this time. It’s not just about losing weight, or being hawt, or fixing all the things I think are wrong with me. It’s about learning who I am and loving that person, flaws and all. Or maybe it’s about becoming someone that I can love, I’m not sure yet. Sure, I’m spouting a lot of therapeutic “POWER OF MEEEEE” BS, but it’s clearly what I need right now.

So, I’m working on it. I’ve signed up for a three day introductory yoga seminar in few weeks, for instance. I abhor exercise with every fiber of my sizeable being, and it’s been verboten for the last few months per instructions from my therapist/nutritionist. But I’ve been aching to move lately, to try something, anything, and I’ve always thought that I might fall in love with yoga. Inner peace. Bendiness. Right up my alley.

And I’m writing. See: this blog. As the deliciously witty Nick Hornby apparently said:

"I always presumed that I would be a writer, without actually doing any writing. I think I thought I was going to get a phone call from somebody one day saying they had a vacancy for a novelist. When I realised that this wasn’t going to happen I thought it was about time to do something."

(Saw this on Shapely Prose.)

I’ve always loved to write, and occasionally I’ve even done it consistently for an extended period of time, but mostly I like to call myself a writer without doing a whole lot of actual writing. If I don’t start now, I’ll probably just be a cubicle rat for the bulk of my twenties, which…no. Thanks, but no.

And thus: da blog. I’ll ramble an awful lot about  myself here, ’cause I’m a narcissist that way and clearly my mental state needs some reflection. I’ll probably write a lot about pop culture, too: movies, TV, ohmygodwhatisshewearing. I was a soc major in college, so a bit of that might creep in. And I do so love a good piece of fiction every now and again.

So basically, I’m going to spout some fascinating things here. You should probably read it.

(You, obviously, being…anyone who happens to wander by. *wave* Hi!)

Awww.

AWWW.

HIIIIII MEEEE.

Why I Haven't Been Writing

I have not been able to figure out what my god damn damage is.

Why can't I write?

I haven't had this much trouble writing in awhile. But lately, it's been like pulling teeth. My average of five posts a day has dwindled down drastically, and despite the raw nerves sizzling all over my body and brain, I can't make enough sense of their roots to get much of anything down on paper. Screen.

And today I realized.

I write when I'm passionate, and lately, I've felt...flat. Despite being off the rails, as I like to call it, despite being in pain. Despite my brain being out in the stars, despite my actions being not my own.

Despite it all. I've been flat. On auto-pilot. Without connection.

I need to get my passion back.

Timewarp: Fantasy and Imagination

Remember when we talked about killing my fantasies?

And remember how I'm still trying to do that?

Randomly last night I logged into my old WordPress account and rediscovered my blog from three years ago. There were only a few posts on there, and I think I'll share one of them with you soon, but what I have today was something in the depths of my draft folder.

It made me sad, a little. And happy. Happy sad.

I was newly twenty two when I wrote this, dating a boy who wasn't good for me, happy in life but unhappy in my body. Just a month after I wrote this, I would move to LA, and break up with the boyfriend, and things would start to change for me. Slowly. Gradually. They'd get worse before they'd get better, but they would.

But the imagination I talk about in this little essay, the fantasies I write about little Taylor having as she fell asleep at night...I've let those go now. Sure, there are others in their place, but...

Well.

Just read.

I'll be back.

(slightly edited for grammar)

I've been offered a job.

A really good job. A job working for a company that treats its employees well, working with people who seem to like me, for bosses who see potential in me and a future in the department. A job with benefits and good pay, in the town my parents live in, a cinematic picturesque beach town. A place where I have a boyfriend, a new puppy, a life and a home.

Yeah, so...I'm not taking it.

In theory, it's everything I want. Everything a person should want. Except that it's not.

My whole life, I've dreamed about how my life could be. Imagination is the one thing I have plenty of and I use it every night as I fall asleep, and I've imagined the paths my life could take. All these fantasies began the same way, with me moving to L.A., Hollywood, City of Angels, silicone-enhanced CokeTown, whatever you want to call it, it's the dream I've had since I was ten, maybe eleven, maybe nine.

There were a million things that could happen to me in L.A. in these daydreams, these fantasies, and really, there still are. I could do anything, be anything, try anything.

If I stay here, I'm giving up all those options.

And in all of these fantasies, I was thin.

First, can we say a collective "awww" for younger Taylor and her insecurities? Thanks.

It's so strange, reading something you wrote a few years ago. It seems like something separate from you, yet still familiar at the same time. And it makes me happy to know that I did give this girl what she wanted, I moved to LA for her and tried a few things.

But really, I've given up on the rest.

I used to have these really grand ideas about what I wanted my place in the world to be. Famous, important, artistic, powerful. Do all kids have that, or just ones like me? Regardless, not all of them carry it through to near-adulthood, willfully ignoring their limitations, my body and brain the only stopgaps on a path to world domination via screen or stage. 

There are certain things I will not, can not, and do not wish to ever be. Not anymore. But there is an entire universe full of other things I can imagine for myself. I am not limited to the bright lights of LA and the idea of fortune and fame. I can see a whole different world of happiness now, and that used to be my problem. I was limited in my thinking, my imagination only took me to one place when I let my mind wander. I couldn't see a happy future if I wasn't special in some way.

But you know, there are different ways to be special.

And my imagination is opening up that whole new world of possibilities to me. 

Log Out

I'm introducing a new goal, in addition to the usual.

Leaving my computer at work every night.

And no TV.

On weeknights, that is.

For the rest of the month, actually.

I feel overloaded on technology. I'm writing a lot, which is great, and leaving my laptop at work will limit that (what is...hand...writing?), but my brain is feeling fried lately. I haven't taken a break from screens in awhile, and I think it's necessary.

You know what else is necessary?

I didn't go yesterday, which means it's been over a week. It's been months since I've gone that long without going. And my body aches for it, it's my head that's stopping me. I think I know what's wrong, and I'll tell you all about it once I'm sure. Don't you worry.

But yes, I know what I need. I need a screen detox, and I need yoga.

SBIFF Women's Panel

One of my favorite parts of the Santa Barbara Film Festival is the various panels they have with the creative people behind the scenes. They have a producers', writers', directors', and women's panel each year, and I've attended a number of them and find them to be fascinating. Unfortunately this year I could only make the women's panel, and I'm so glad I did.

Officially titled Creative Forces: Women in the Biz, the event has been moderated for the last ten years by Madelyn Hammond, who is fantastic. The panelists were Allison Abbate, producer of Frankenweenie, Lucy Alibar, writer of Beasts of the Southern Wild, Marisa Paiva, Director of Development at Fox 2000 for Life of Pi, Katherine Sarafian, producer of Brave, and Pilar Savone, producer of Djano Unchained.

It is such a treat to listen to smart, accomplished, and funny women talk about kicking ass at what they do. Each of them had great insights and stories to tell, and Ms. Hammond asked lots of fabulous questions.

My fave moment came when she asked Allison and Pilar about their long working relationships with Tim Burton and Quentin Tarantino, and whether or not they were like at all like marriages, with bickering and finishing each other's sentences. Allison, yes, it is like that, and a lot of the times she had to finish Tim's sentences, because he "never did", while Pilar said no, Quentin had no problem finishing his own sentences, and he usually finished hers too. She joked she blamed working with him for the last eleven years as the reason she hasn't had a boyfriend in so long, which I can certainly buy.

My favorite member of the panel was Lucy Alibar. When she walked out, a stunningly gorgeous blonde who looked to be around my age, I couldn't believe it. That girl is Oscar-nominated?! She was sweet, smart and clever, had a lot of funny stories and comments about being Southern and working on Beasts of the Southern Wild. She shared that the script started as a stage play, based on her relationship with her ailing father, featuring a male protagonist. Then her childhood friend Benh Zeitlin asked to adapt it to a screenplay, and they looked at over 4,000 girls before they cast Quvenzhané Wallis. I find it fascinating that they did color-blind casting, and both Quvenzhané and the actor who plays her father had never acted before. I guess her father owned a bakery across the street from their production headquarters and all the crew would go there too often for donuts and pastries. Once he was cast, the director and acting coach would go there in the middle of the night during "baking hours" to work with him on the script. Lucy was clearly so grateful for the success she's experiencing, and I can't wait to see her film.

I left the panel feeling absolutely inspired in my writing, and I hope I can find within myself the focus and drive that all these successful women possess and follow, somewhat, in their footsteps.

Or maybe I'll just be a trophy wife.

Nah. That's even more work.

NaNoWriMo...No

So, no.

Not even close.

I didn't really commit, despite all my posturing and all my supposed dedication. I did not make NaNoWriMo a priority. I found other things to occupy my brain. Actually, I managed to forget this whole endeavor for the last week or so...oh, what, writing...hmm?

Nope.

I did do some writing tonight, desperately, the first in a long while. Words thrown at the screen. Up until midnight, frantically slamming the keys of my keyboard, down to the wire. Still my actual fiction output this month...so pitiful. About 1/5th of the intended. Big drastic fail.

S'okay.

Maybe soon I'll really find a story I want to tell soon, and I'll commit to that. Maybe.

And maybe, some day, I'll actually win me some NaNoWriMo.



Fiction Word Count: 12,167
Blog Word Count: 20,595
Total:  32,762

NaNoWriMo Check In: Day #20, Evening

Yeah...so okay. Fine. I'll admit it, I'm not a champion this year.

I mean, I still might be. Maybe. It could happen. But it is becoming increasingly unlikely. I might, might make it to 50k words total, but I don't think there's a shot in hell I'll have 50k of fiction at the end of the month. C'est la vie.

I'm just not in love with my story. I have not found my groove, my mojo, my vibe, the flooow. It's like pulling teeth to get a single word typed out. I'm bouncing around from scene to scene, page to page, unable to find the thread of the story, unable to just go with it. I'm too self-critical as I write, which keeps me from pushing forward. I know how it feels when I'm creating something I love, and I'm just not doing that right now. Which makes it very hard to motivate myself to sit down and get some fucking words out.

Har-fucking-rumph.

At least I've been pretty verbose on this here blog. I wish gifs counted as words though, even if pictures don't. I mean, they would be worth way more than a thousand.

Fiction Word Count: 9,795
Blog Word Count: 14,363
Total: 24,158

NaNoWriMo Check In: Day #10, Evening

So, I lost some work this week. Apparently, over the course of three days, I never saved any of my writing. Because I'm just not that bright, as we have rather thoroughly established I think. Okay, let me retract that bit of self-deprecation. Maybe I'm brighter than some, but I'm definitely a bit flaky. That I will not deny.

It was maybe 1,000 words or so, nothing catastrophic, but I was distressed. And recreating took some time, so I lost a little momentum. Overall, I'm still falling pretty far behind, but I persevere. I spent a good chunk of today writing, at least. I have a pretty solid outline now, and an idea of where I'm going, but I get stuck on dialogue and can't help the editing voice in my head. Shut up, internal editor. No bits I'm particularly proud of yet, but I think I like where it's going? I like one of my characters a lot. I want to have sex with him.

Ahem. Anywho. One thing I'm having trouble with is chapters and transitions. I like to just write, I have trouble figuring out when to break things up in to chapters. Not that it really matters, obviously, but if you haven't picked up by now, I just love to fixate on the little things to distract myself from the big. So, no chapters, just a stream of crap. Or gold. Who knows?

I am going to try to add 1,000 words a day every day until Thursday, we shall see how that goes. I have the time. That, plus any blogging, and I've been rather prolific, should bring me sort of nearish to 20,000. Not quite half, but at least within sneezing distance.

Bless me.

Fiction Word Count: 6,705
Blog Word Count: 8,415
Total: 15,121

NaNoWriMo Check In: Day #4, Morning

Well, I am not knocking this shit out of the park.

But that's totally okay.

I was inspired reading a post at Running Around The Bucket, and have amended my NaNo goal. I am still hopefully making it to 50,000 words, but my true goal is just don't give up, like I have every other time I've attempted this little challenge. Even if I start nearing the end of the month and the full 50k isn't attainable, I will not surrender! I WILL NOT FALL. I WILL BE CHAMPION.

I'm trying to get back into my writing groove, where the words just pour out of me at a pace faster than I can type...actually, that's not true. Have I mentioned I'm a bad ass typist? Well, I am. One of the very few skills I will blatantly brag about without a hint of humility. I fucking pound the shit out of a keyboard and type something like 90 WPM if I'm trying. That's sexy, right? Totally.

I'm still enjoying the symptoms of writer's block. Pulling the words out of my brain is a slow and tricky process. Occasionally I find moments of inspiration and a whole paragraph forms right before my eyes, but usually it's painstakingly slow going just crafting a single sentence. And I know, I know you aren't supposed to edit, but what I do isn't really editing...it's just part of my process. I write the bare bones of a scene and go back and flesh it out with detail and deeper thought...which kind of feels a lot like editing...

But it's crawling along.

The story I'm writing begins with the breakup of an almost decade long relationship. My main character, Lilly, enjoying a quarter life crisis, cashes out on her car and her job and her friendships and flees to travel the world and fall in REAL TRUE LOVE. Or in theory she will, if I ever get her there. Definitely a little "Eat Pray Love" I suppose, which I haven't actually read and probably should if I'm ripping it off.

I knew I would need to pick a story and a topic I can really get lost in, and I think a bit of wish fulfillment is just the thing. I know I'll get wrapped up in describing the parts of the world I've traveled to or the ones I dream of, and the underlying romance will give me a bit of vicarious thrill. And to steal a piece of advice heard from a longtime NaNo-er, any time I get stuck, I'm throwing in a sex scene. WOOHOO SEX.

Fiction Word Count: 2,059
Blog Word Count: 2,184
Total: 4,243

NaNoWriMo: Kickoff!

Okay, peoples. It's November 1st. The time has come.

NANOWRIMO.

I just love saying that.

Things of note:


1) I did not plot my story in advance. I am just writing and seeing what comes out. Perhaps not my best laid plan, but we'll see how it goes.

2) I will be counting any words written on this here blog in my total word count. Why? Because I am a big fat cheater. And I want to actually finish this time. And I don't want to NOT post on my blog because I'm too busy writing the Next Great American Novel. And I do what I want.

3) I will likely post snippets here or there of what I'm working on, but I am incredibly insecure about my fiction writing, so no guarantees. The last time I let someone read something I wrote he never even told me what he thought, so that kind of crushed my confidence.


Okay, I do believe that's all I have to say. LET'S DO THIS.

NaNoWriMoWha?

Here's something you might not know about me: I consider myself a writer.

I know, right? What a surprise! Considering I, you know, keep a blog and all, but mostly fill it with pictures of cats and shoes and shit. But yes, writing has always been the thing I say I do but I don't always do. You know?

I remember being rather prolific in middle school. I took a journal assignment for English class and turned it into twenty pages of fiction, I submitted a story for an assignment that ended up winning me $100 and a fancy lunch. "Young Writer's Of California", or something. SO fancy. And in college, I wrote a lot. Confession: I wrote fan fic. Buffy the Vampire Slayer fan fic, to be precise. And it was popular, okay? Thousands of words. Dorky, inappropriate ones.

Since then, I confess...I haven't done a whole lot of writing. Bits and pieces here and there, a long term project that hasn't even cracked 10,000 words, a few started-then-abandoned blogs. Nothing of substance. Nothing I would ever show to anyone.

Since starting this blog back in March, my writerly instincts have definitely awoken from their long long hibernation. Stuck their heads out of a cave like, "Hey world, what's up?" And then the instincts are all, "I'm feeling feisty today..." This paragraph went to a weird place.

Anyway.

I want to write more.

SO!

For the third or fourth time in my life, I am going to attempt NaNoWriMo, or National Novel Writing Month. The idea is this: Starting 12:00AM on November 1st, you start to write. And then you write. And write some more. The goal is to have 50,000 words by the end of the month. No editing, no deleting, just write write write.

In the past, I have always given up within a week or so. I lose my drive, my ideas seem stupid, I get behind and then overwhelmed. You know, much like life.

Hopefully this year goes a bit better for me. I'm brainstorming ideas now, but you're not allowed to write a single word until the month begins.

Wish me luck!