The runaway

So I'm working on a YA novel. It might end up a novella. I've been working on it for a while albeit sporadically.

I won't go into the details of the book, but I find it difficult to do fiction. To write fiction you have to let go. I'm so used to memoir where I already know what happened. With fiction, on the other hand, you need to imagine what happened.

There's the rub as Hamlet would say.  I need to let my imagination soar. I need to be free of the constraints of who I am and my life and just be the character. It probably doesn't help that the character I've created is somewhat similar to me as a teenager, but the point is, or should be, that she's not me. 

To be or not to be. That's not the question actually. The question is what is? What is the story? What is the point of the book? What and who does she want to be? What is her goal?

Place is always such a huge part of my writing and if I want place to play a role in this book, it is going to require some research. Because this character is, like me in some ways, a runaway. And she's going places. And more. 

The world is a stage

As Shakespeare has said in his play As You Like It, "All the world is a stage." It is. Truly. 

Finally, at 53, I've realized I'm a natural actress. I've been doing it my whole life. I am a born ham, and it's maybe why I chose law. In court, the other day, I quoted the "a rose by any other name" line from Romeo & Juliet while arguing why a case should be deemed diversion eligible. It felt good. I got a smile out of the judge. Along with a side eye or two perhaps and/or a quizzical look from others, but who really cares? 

I've always thought, well knew really, that my creative side makes me a better lawyer. It's the ability to think sideways. Not vertical. My brain goes many places. As a Libra, I've always seen the grey, the different sides of an argument, and the multiple perspectives. 

I've decided, before I get too old to really go for it physically, to try out for a theater production. I know my limits so my first audition will not be for a musical so an upcoming Riverside audition for Man of La Mancha is out. But I'm keeping my eyes peeled for upcoming theater dramatic productions. I'd prefer Shakespeare or Ibsen or maybe even Tennessee Williams. And then, it's on to my own production and adaptation of my memoir Tales of an Inland Empire Girl.

So wish me luck, and to break a leg. Or two. Cheers. Happy Friday my friends. 

Sunday mourning coming down

David Johansen has died. He was the lead singer of the NY Dolls, one of my favorite bands of all time. I ended up watching the Scorsese documentary about him, titled "Personality Crisis", last night. It was part concert film, from a small NYC venue (the Carlyle) performance, and part archival footage and really captured David's range, along with his personality and voice.

To be a true creative is to morph and change, and it's why Bowie resonated so. David was similar to Bowie in both his chameleon aspect as well as his use of an alter ego. For Bowie it was Ziggy, for David Johansen, it was Buster Poindexter, a lounge singer who was created post New York Dolls era so that David could perform a whole range of songs. 

Listen to the first New York Dolls album and you'll see why they are the consummate proto punk band. They were such a seminal part of punk amd post punk, influencing everyone from the Sex Pistols to The Smiths. In fact, their song "Lonely Planet Boy" appears to have been a huge influence on one of my most treasured songs "There is a Light that Never Goes Out" by The Smiths. 

The New York Dolls challenged gender norms with their wild glam outfits with feather boas and high heels and big hair and makeup, a clear precursor to the glam metal bands of the eighties. But their music was perfectly composed classic rock (with a yet unknown punk edge because they did it first along with bands like The Stooges). Plus, come on, Johnny Thunders on guitar? He is so underrated. And David could write a hit song, they just never became hits and the New York Dolls disbanded after only a couple of studio albums, but their influence lives on. 

I guess it's hitting me because many of my idols have died or are aging. Which means I'm getting older. Mortality is something all humans must deal with eventually but does it have to come so soon? 

So for now, I'll sing along to "Trash" and "Personality Crisis" and imagine what it must have been like to be in the audience watching the New York Dolls in their heyday. 

Wednesday Morning Writing

It's Wednesday morning. Five am.

As I sit here, I know I should be writing. Instead, I'm listening to a podcast and watching my baby shih tzus wrestle. Princess has my slipper. She's chewing on it. Pippin is dragging Merry by his tail. They growl. They nip each other. Then Merry pins Pippin. 

They go back and forth, and I brush Princess' face. After I brush her, she grabs my work shoe, I put my shoes on the end table. 

Today, I have a full work day with court all morning, and then a site visit. I tripped and fell down the stairs on Monday, and luckily escaped with just soreness. I still made it in to work, but it was difficult the last couple of days. I didn't feel great and was grumpy. I went to bed early last night with a heating pad after taking a couple Tylenols. I awoke at 4 am feeling much better. 

Like I said earlier, I know I should be writing and I am. This counts right? It should. Writing is writing. And I'm writing.

The 3 Puppy Magi

Some days, it feels like Christmas. This gift of the three shih tzus from the universe feels magical. Like the three magi, they bring so many gifts. Gold, Frankincense and Myrrh. 

I imagine life without them and it feels bland, like oatmeal without butter, sugar and fruit. They, specifically Merry, Pippin & Princess Leia, bring me so much joy. 

Yes, there's pee and shit, I'm trying desperately to potty train them, and sleepless nights when they whine at 3 am. But even those things feel okay. 

As I watch the three puppies snuggle and wrestle, I'm so happy my heart feels as if it might burst out of my chest. And even though I just caught Princess with a dryer sheet in her mouth. And Pippin with yet another bottle cap I had to wrestle away, it's beautiful. Lovely and amazing.

My husband thinks I'm going a little cuckoo because they each have a voice. Merry sounds sweet and soft, and sometimes I call him Sodapop (a reference to The Outsiders) because he's so damn handsome, and Pippin is all cool dude, and drawl, and a pure troublemaker like Dallas from the "The Outsiders", and well you already guessed it, Princess is Cherry Valance. Or maybe Claire from The Breakfast Club, she's bougie, and it's all Louis Vuitton for her. She might even have a little Valley Girl Princess in her. 

I'm just feeling all the puppy love. I may write a little book about these puppies one day, maybe part fantasy, and a smidge of reality, but for now, I'll just watch them play. 

Life of JEM podcast! Writers on Writing!!

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Across the Universe

These new puppies have took my love and as Stevie Nicks sang, they took it down. It's like being covered in snowy love. I'm enveloped. I'm happy. Truly happy. And I'm getting older. They will get older too. 

I watch them play. They zoom around the house. I get down on their level and kiss their tiny faces. They have each other. And me. And Adrian. And more. 

Even in the darkest of times, there's joy and there's light. As the Beatles sang, "Om/Nothing's gonna change my world."

That's not to say to bury one's head in the sand. You must be cognizant of what is going on around you, across the universe. But it doesn't have to destroy you. We only have so much control. And I choose love. And I choose joy. I choose community and acceptance and equality. 

Those who choose otherwise are operating out of fear. Fear never wins. Courage does. So be brave my friends. Be who you are. Always.