Saturday, August 31, 2013
4 Yes Four. And No, this is not a meme, so you may continue on reading at your leisure.
I learned, quite a while back a bit of information, that did not register until today.
It would appear this happens quite often with me. It may be a tad unsettling for those around me. More so for those who are basically in the "acquaintance" heading of my little realm.
So, I heed the frustration.
That telling me a piece of trivia or information and would appear that it just skims the top of the old cranium. Behold! It does stick. It just takes some time to totally seep in and then bitch slap the back of me eyeballs.
Truly. With sincerity.
I learned that I, me, the one who is slowly going crazy as I sit typing away words words words! Have a four degree of separation of one my favorite writers.
It just hit me this morning. Although told to me, ooh close to two years ago.
(living in the moment, the now, the bottom line will do that to a person.)
And an opportunity to contact the third degree, who, also, is a wonderful writer, AND has even written a book with Mr King.
And I don't.
As much as I would love to...My feeling of being inappropriate take precedence over my desire to fawn over and indulge.
crazy, I know. I am well aware.
Being one who has dabbled in many genres, the one quality that sticks out in my mind of me as an author/writer/screenwriter(SPEC writer.For those not in the know, SPEC is evil and not well liked, so I have been told)...Fear.
I stand on a line. Teetering. I walk it, tip toeing along the way. Never stepping over.
12 scripts. Reworked, rewritten, polished. Sit, wonderful dust collectors.(In a software program I can not unlock, yet) Better Bookends for those books of writers who went over that edge.
2 books. Albeit poetry, prose, and mind rubble. Yet I love it. Not in real demand these days(again I was born in the wrong century). Yet I fumble when it comes to just getting it rolling with a distributor. It's available. Yet the kind of available that it might as well be sitting in a corner, in a room, in the Tower of London.
4 stories. Just that stories. Novel material? Could be.
Collaborator with three scripts, authored by another, willingly completed a rewrite for said author, reworked dialog(my strength), and the deal fell through, and now that writer deals with their own demons.
I network. Connect. Pretty impressed with some of my contacts and then, then...
More so, to do with respect and that I value their friendship and time.
I am appreciative of being 'allowed' to venture into their inner circle. Even if it were brief.
That out of respect for their craft(writing, painting or just really good English teacher,hi endy), I would(I do) hate to infringe. Or to make an appearance of the "The only reason I am friends..." or "Because we are friends..."
So I built friendships. Admirations.
Instead of a professional relationship.
And then reminded by this quote from "The Prestige"
"[after showing a little boy how to do a coin trick]
Alfred Borden: Never show anyone. They'll beg you and they'll flatter you for the secret, but as soon as you give it up... you'll be nothing to them."
Keeping this in mind. Is this all truth? I'd have to agree, and yet I do not.(so dang wishy washy today)So why venture into that darkness? To say I did and be done with it all...finally?
I am quite sure, more definite, that the 'fear' comes from some early childhood trauma. Self esteem grievance. An overwhelming feeling of vulnerability. Lack of control. Etc, etc, etc.
That brand of psychoanalyzing best be left to the professionals. Seeing that I am one of them, I am all good. ;)
FInding myself in my current status(unemployed), I have reflected back at all of the above, and what holds for the future. I am going down the path, and this time with a determination to not only lay it out there, but to learn more of my craft. To spend the time to improve, and to ask questions. Its never too late, and the time is now.I know I am a good story creator, and writer. I can not compare to others.
There is no true point to this post. Just on the path of rambling on. Venting?
No seeking. There are no answers anyone could reply with, truly. I know the answers.
I stare at them all the time, as I tip toe on the wire.
They sit glaring back, then I glare back. Yes, yes, maybe in a few turns at sticking one's tongue out, and when they aren't looking a flip of the bird now and again.
Its just a reflection. A self absorbed jaunt.
Four degrees! That appear to be as daunting as take a running leap at the Grand Canyon and hoping to make it.