Go Big or Go Bust: Day 214 (on sticking my neck out and strengthening the risk-taking muscle)

So I stuck my neck out today.  A savvier friend was holding my hand but I was the one on the block. 

It feels like I fell on my face.  You know that feeling of having the tendons behind your knees and on the inside of your elbows (virtually) cut?  It wasn't anywhere near as bad as it could have been as we had only gotten to the Assistant, and it wasn't a flat out rejection but it was a pretty strong message that Plan B will not be as easy as I was hoping.  

On the plus side, the experience is completely different from my recent *disappointment* and is proof that my risk-taking muscle is getting stronger cause I'm no where near flattened.  In fact I feel kind of relaxed.  The thought descended like a cartoon bubble that it's no surprise that putting myself out there is hard.  After eight years of running the show, of not having to ask anybody to want me or what I've got, of course this is hard! 

But wIthout my savvy friend holding my hand and you cheering me on, it would be a very different story.  Thank you for all you're doing. 

Decades ago, someone planted these lilies in a garden, but now they're in a field, almost unnoticed.  Isn't there some biblical quote about the lilies of the field - "they toil not and neither do they spin"... ?

Go Big or Go Bust: Day 213 (on the problem with selfies and what people see in a face)

In doing this blog, I never imagined for a second that it would turn into posting all these selfies.  Not that I don't like to look at a flattering picture of myself as much as the next person, but as you may have noticed, I seem to have hit a new low in willingness to prep for the camera.  This is partly poor time management and partly because I've discovered that it's not so much about a seriously bad hair day (today, see below) or whether I'm wearing mascara or not that makes for a good picture.  It's about emotional state and specifically, a lack of willfulness or a 'will to power'. 

I don't enjoy posing but the long and the short is that I frequently feel a failure of imagination when it comes to finding topics which relate to what Mudd likes to call my 'journey’.  And, full disclosure, it's rare that people will click the 'Like' button on Facebook if the picture is of something other than me.  This is 'go big or go bust' after all.  I'm trying to get a bigger audience.

But while we're on the subject of physical appearances, I have to tell you a story.  A year or more ago, I was in a health food store, late, rushing and suddenly ravenous.  A very short woman, I'm talking, five feet tall or less, was between me and the brown rice, serving herself.  She was being kind of pokey, and I was getting more and more impatient, until I noticed that she had some kind of pretty serious malformation.  Her head was permanently tipped 90º, so one ear was almost touching her shoulder and she could hardly reach the shelf to get a second container.  I didn't want to be rude but seeing as I'm almost six feet tall, asked if I could help.  She turned to thank me, head at this crazy angle, and looked me right in the eye.  She appeared to be well into her eighties.  And I was dazzled.  It was all in her eyes - love, a sense of humor and intelligence.  We ended up talking and exchanging cards. 

A number of weeks later, I was in the same health food store with Mr. Green.  My short friend from the brown rice take-out was in the aisle shopping.  I introduced her to Mr. Green, we chatted briefly and left.  One thing you may not know about Mr. Green is that he's not what you'd call good with the small talk.  He can be pretty abrupt, he sizes people up quickly and is just as ready to turn and walk away as to shake hands.  I asked him for his take on my new friend.  Mr. Green's response?  "I love her already." 

This may be obvious to you, but it's a revelation to me: once you pass a certain age (for women 55 or 60) the face the world sees (if they look) is actually pretty much ONLY what's inside. 

Go Big or Go Bust: Day 212 (on the unlikely path to my Oprah moment of surrender)

I've known for a while that I have to be beaten to a pulp before I give up.  And I have Good News.  In spite of my bull-like ability to dig in my heels and resist surrender, compounded by my oxen-like strength, everything seems to have shifted. 

Was it the no-see-um bugs who invaded my studio and brought me to a new level of gratitude for the little things in life like a bug-free bedroom?  Or was it the almost-nine divine hours of sleep last night which put a less desperate spin on the fact that Plan B seemed to be stalled-out-in-the-starting-gate if not in active implosion.  Whatever.  My forty-eight hour temper tantrum has dissipated like a morning mist.  I worked in a workman-like way all day and then dragged Mr. Green off to the swimming hole. 

After a vigorous swim upstream battling the current

We returned home to a surprise:  it's possible that, in surrender, I too had my Oprah moment.  No, Spielberg didn't call to offer me a part but I wasn't hoping for that.  Instead, I heard from someone who I'd figured was speaking for everyone in the industry in writing off The Louise Log  (and me) without the courtesy of even a rejection email.  He'd injured his back soon after our first exchange, had been loopy on heavy pain killers ever since and thought he'd emailed. 

I did see a bird near the house, this morning, with a vividly blue tail.  THE BLUEBIRD OF HAPPINESS??  Hmm.  Probably more like the no-see-ums of happiness. 

Go Big or Go Bust: Day 211 (It's me and Daniel Powter all the way)

Lotta cursing.  Lotta toe stubbing.  Overall pervasive baaad mood. 

Mr. Green wanted to know if I'm 'upset about something' which forced me to have to talk about it. 

I'm embarrassed to admit that the long and the short of it is that I want what I want when I want it.  And I've been denied it.  So I've sort of reverted to being a three year old. 

Plus I'm so busy being bitter that I've fallen behind with everything.  If I haven't answered you or even acknowledged your kindness, please don't take it personally.  

Go Big or Go Bust: Day 210 (When the multiple adrenaline surges finally wear off...)

I don't know what happened.  It finally hit me this morning.  Here I was all glowy, all OVER not making the final cut.

Maybe the multiple adrenaline surges finally wore off?  First there was seeing:  Episodic Lab!!  blazing in my inbox a full week early.  (without the italics and exclamation points...)  Then, the nicest-ever rejection letter.  And then the tidal wave of love from you.

I'm not generally depressive but woke up this morning in a black mood.  Very Soprano theme song.  Everything was gone.  Fortunately, you sent me links to watch and read, links about how to cope with rejection, about how to deal with an 'upper limit problem' and an Oprah video on surrrender (suggested by Louise Edington) which made me burst into tears and gave me the answer.  I have to let go AGAIN.  (Looking at You, Suzy Soro)  I have to surrender. 

So I hauled out the vacuum cleaner and threw myself into cleaning the house.  At first I was all (mournful) Skeeter Davis: "Don't theyyy know, it's the END of the world..."

This eventually shifted to chanting to a God I don't always believe exists:  "Please show me the way to use my talents."  which changed to:  "Could you just show me how to be happy!"  I felt willing.  I felt truly and totally surrendered.  What am I supposed to do?

Of course nothing happened.  And I didn't even take pleasure in doing a bang-up job of cleaning.  (Not to compare, but Oprah got a call from Spielberg offering her the part in The Color Purple the instant she surrendered.)   

Glum, with heavy feet, I pretended that I wasn't occasionally refreshing the mail on my phone and finished the job (except the bathrooms).  I decided that today is the day: it was almost 90º and I was going swimming.  I NEVER go swimming even though I love to swim.  Last summer I never even went ONCE.

So I put on a bathing suit and my cut-offs, got in the old Volvo and drove to the swimming hole.  I had a delicious swim against the current in a fast-moving river which did exactly NOTHING to change my mood.  I drove home, made a lettuce and tomato sandwich with a ton of Hellman's mayonnaise (protein) and trudged to my studio to write the blog of death. 

Almost immediately, on starting to write, the black mood lifted.  Oh and by the way, look what I found on the way to the studio. 

And look what I found on the way back to the house for a cup of tea.

You may not know that most of my childhood was spent on all-fours, eyes trained on the lawn, looking for 4-leaf clovers.  In decades of looking, I never found two in a day and never even imagined a 5-leaf clover.  Maybe things are looking up. 

Go Big or Go Bust: Day 209 (The astonishing thing about you and me. And Ben Affleck. And Maggie Gyllenhaal.)

So I can't actually remember if I've mentioned that part of the point of this blog is to figure out what the heck 'going big' exactly means.

There was a story somewhere a number of years ago that Ben Affleck, who had just zoomed to fame, had said: "Being famous is the most extraordinary and wonderful experience I've ever had.  For about twenty minutes." 

On reading that, I was surprised.  But then the more it sank in, the more it made sense.  You could imagine that it's a drag not being able to trust anyone's intentions anymore.  Everybody wants some of you or some of what you can do for them.  I'm guilty. 

Maggie Gyllenhaal once plopped her laptop down on the café table next to mine and asked if I'd watch it for a minute.  While she was off on the other side of the room, my heart rose pounding in my throat. "Give her a card.  No.  Leave her alone.  Anne, this is a fated opportunity.  Give her a goddam card."   When she returned, I offered her a Louise Log card and asked her to take a look.  To this day, I'm haunted by her quiet groan and flick of the eyes in an unspoken "Seriously??"

It feels to me that you and I have something different.  I don't wonder for one second what you're after.  I know what you're after.  You either like The Louise Log or you like this blog.  Or both.  I'm too marginal and too under the radar to help anybody.  And I'm too old to attract 'the wrong element' ha ha.  So we have this incredibly pure connection where we can talk honestly and, even if we've never met, or not for many years, we can talk like friends. 

I Love to hear from you.  I Love to hear your side of the story,  I practically do hand springs on hearing that you identify with my struggle cause of what you're going through.  It justifies this blog and makes all the time on social media feel worthwhile.  And it feels like the validation and the emotional exchange we're having on (what I used to think of as) 'stupid old facebook', may just be the very thing all we unrecognized creatives are actually longing for.   

A stairwell at Dixon Place in NYC

Go Big or Go Bust: Day 208 (Who KNEW that putting your broken, scared, anxious, joyful heart right out there is all that really matters! Gratitude Attack to my Tribe)

First last and always, I throw my arms around each and every one of you who's showed up with UNIMAGINED love and solidarity here, on facebook and twitter.  I thank you for your generosity and your wisdom.  And I'm honored and grateful to have you buoying me in a way that even that big Sundance stamp of approval (with all that it entails) could not have buoyed me.  You are giving me something that I've never had in my life - a massive global tribe!  (You!)  It's especially unique and wonderful that we're also 24-7 pen pals.

So many of us are struggling to be heard, to make a difference with our creative work, to be recognized for what we're doing.  Until this year, I've put most of my energy into the work, very little into connecting and even less into talking openly about the day to day reality of the struggle.  Until this year, I mostly used facebook and twitter for posting links.  Who knew the rich reward of daring to reveal what's really going on.   Who knew that the bottom line of what matters is putting your broken, scared, anxious, joyful heart right out there??

I'm the only one to blame for this very public experience of a Sundance rejection which, in another time, would have been on my top ten list of Things To Avoid. 

But having gone through this with you sometimes cheering me on, on other days offering your shoulder to cry on and on others insisting that one door closes and another opens (or that the bus/train I'm supposed to take is still coming) I'm actually believing it.  In the face of yesterday's rejection, I already feel joyful and excited.  And I'm on to Plan B.

Thank you from my heart for being a part of my roller coaster journey.  I love you. 

Go Big or Go Bust: Day 207 (on The Sundance Episodic Lab decision)

So I got the email from Sundance which included the words "disappointing news" and "regretfully". 

It helps that it was the kindest rejection letter ever.  And it stings less to know that we were apparently *close* to being chosen.

Still. 

I'm dealing with it by doing something I have total control over - moving my entire office outside so I can vacuum and paint the floor with some kind of sealer (to minimize the concrete dust).  And throwing the switch on Plan B. 

Mr. Green snapped this shot as I write this post. 

Woops.  Guess I don't actually have as much control as I thought.  The sky opened up and it started raining on my outdoor office ... which, has since turned into a full-on torrential thunderstorm.   Life is just full of big and little surprises.  And I have to remind myself that I do love a surprise.   

Go Big or Go Bust: Day 206 (on marriage, MY marriage)

I guess we all go through a lot of ups and downs in a day, certainly in 206 days of struggling to figure out a course of action.  But, tell me frankly, don't I look fun? 

photo by Sean Fox

Don't I look like I'd be fun to be married to? 

Mr. Green has a different opinion:  "My attitude toward you ranges from fascination to hatred."  Then he followed up in a mild, distracted way: "I woke up hating you." 

Go Big or Go Bust: Day 205 (Lessons from the Garden on Disease, Promotional Campaigns and Unfounded Optimism AKA Denial)

After the heavy rain yesterday afternoon, I headed into the garden this morning for one of the great joys of life, a rousing hour of weeding damp earth.  Everything comes up more easily than usual after a good rain, especially if there's been the time to let it sock down to the roots. 

To my horror, I saw with fresh eyes the plants which I've been telling myself were 'dry' or 'tired out from over-production'.   In fact, some kind of disease had not only set in to the garden, but spread through it.

This yellow squash plant has blossoms and even some tiny squashes growing.  But look at the brown leaves in the foreground.  The plant in the picture below looked like this one a couple of weeks ago.  I had pruned off the dead leaves and assumed that all would be well.

Instead, I'm afraid that this and another plant like it may have been the Typhoid Mary's of our garden. 

These (recently) bountifully productive sugar snap peas had the misfortune to be in the row NEXT TO that zucchini plant pictured just above.  As are the garlic - and the hot peppers.

Here are the last of the 2 - 3" long sugar snap peas and yellow squash for this season.  Mr. Green must have heard my telepathic scream and came down to join me in the garden.  He agreed.  We have a problem.  He suggested that we may have to destroy the diseased plants.

Following instructions from the first gardening website my panicked fingers came upon, I uprooted every single plant with even one diseased leaf.  This amounted to three full, large, garbage bags -- containing every single zucchini and yellow squash plant in the garden, some with tiny vegetables and multiple blossoms (future vegetables).   

With a heavy heart I dragged the bags away and returned to our now one-third empty garden.  It's mid-August, the time of the bountiful harvest.  The garlic looks iffy.  The hot peppers have large black spots on them.  I'll check out their prognosis with a more seasoned gardener before whacking them but don't have the emotional stamina to uproot any more plants today. Thank goodness kale and swiss chard, broccoli and cauliflower(and carrots) don't seem to be susceptible. 

The moral to this miserable story?  Beware of unfounded optimism otherwise known as *denial*.  A new gardener needs guidance and advice.  Sometimes delay is deadly.  Sometimes a wait-and-see attitude is just plain stupid. 

I'm suddenly flushed with panic that, novice that I am, I don't create a parallel situation with our perennially delayed 'promotional campaign'.  Especially because the psychics all seemed to agree that July/August was the time for The Louise Log to 'take off'.  #EEK

Go Big or Go Bust: Day 204 (grousing about wealth, success, massive recognition, feeling competitive and the Spice Girls)

If you're reading this, you're probably aware that I have a thing about success.  I see other people killing it with their work online and have a hard time getting past the old:  "But hey!  What about The Louise Log?" 

For better or for worse, I'm competitive.  And in spite of my attempts to tamp this monster down, it seems to be a part of who I am.  Massive recognition and financial compensation continue to be two of the elusive markers of success I really (really) want. *

So, naturally, I was grousing about this the other day in a room full of people and a financial adviser, who's friends with friends of mine, heard me.   She took me aside and practically stabbed me in the chest with her pointing finger. 

"Anne!  You have great wealth!  You have emotional wealth!  Passion!  I advise very wealthy people.  And a lot of them spend a great deal of money on very expensive vacations, traveling the world trying to feel passion.  Trying to feel!   You already have this, in every hour of every day!"

Hearing this hit me like a rogue wave, but in a good way.  It turned everything around.  And it made me feel grateful and made me see my situation in a new light.  I am successful.  I LOVE my life!  I'm doing what I want to be doing and even finding like-minded people online who follow what I'm doing.  I'm one of the lucky ones.  

*Spice Girls!

On set of The Louise Log #34 with Jennifer Sklias-Gahan

Go Big or Go Bust: Day 203 (on sugar and other drugs vs living unhinged)

I'm pretty sure that before I came up with my first word, I'd found a way to live 'an easier softer way'.  I'd found a drug ... sugar.  Bananas, cookies, whatever was in reach did the job, happiness was at the other end of a bite.  I had NO PROBLEMS.  Today's doctors would probably have labelled me hyper-active, but hey, you would be too after a whole bunch of bananas. 

In my late teen years, caffeine, nicotine and Boone's Farm Apple wine joined the mix.  With a body chemistry so jangled by substances, there's not much room for simple 'feeling' --  well, except for the King of Drugs, infatuation, a drug you don't even have to ingest.  Of course I loved to feel infatuated.  

And then this morning I read something, a line or two which caught me totally off-guard and shot through me.  I felt inspired.  To my surprise, I realized that I was feeling the inspiration in my stomach.  (My STOMACH?)  Yup.  The part you're supposed to suck in.  And the feeling radiated out uncontrolled to the rest of my body til I felt like a unified whole, which I realized, is not normal, at least in my experience.  What I usually count as 'feelings' are in my HEAD - feelings like competition or determination or ... JUDGEMENT.  Huh?  Or fear.

So when this was posted in the #2 or #3 trains last winter, it seemed too funny to not remember.  But tonight, it seems it's too on topic to not include.  'Staying in' is the same thing as blocking feelings.  And I want to LIVE.  UNHINGED. 

Go Big or Go Bust: Day 202 (on Steven Spielberg, the Sundance Lab, a boatload of family visitors and a Plan B)

I've read that Steven Spielberg gets his best ideas driving.  I apparently get mine working as a short order cook, chamber maid, and dish washer for a boat load of family visiting for the weekend. 

It's Sunday night, everybody's gone home and  I'VE GOT A PLAN B!  Sundance or no Sundance, it's all going to work out.  Thank you again for that tsunami of love showing me the way to accept that I have no control, to have faith and to LET GO. 

Go Big or Go Bust: Day 201 (Before & After telling the truth on Facebook)

How can I thank you for rallying around!. Your generosity and acceptance took me completely by surprise. 

There's an old saying: "A joy shared is doubled, a sorrow shared is cut in half."  Well, In this case, my baaad feelings were more than cut in half by your stories and encouragement.  I've never DARED to talk so openly about such a clearly miserable situation and never in my wildest dreams imagined that doing so on facebook would be the fastest route to getting through it.

I bow to you.  And I thank you.

Go Big or Go Bust: Day 200 (So I wanted to knock your socks off to celebrate)

Even a person who doesn't have the planning gene notices the approach of Day 200.  

So of course I wanted to spring the highlights reel on you to celebrate.  Unfortunately, the sound editor isn't scheduled to mix it til next week.  

Hey!  How about one of the great skit videos Maria Bruni and I shot in June?  Forget about it.  A massive influx of family is arriving any minute and with the huge amount of overdue cleaning, there's no skit video.

And so my last resort is the truth.  I'm on the verge of depression, bracing myself for the Sundance announcement of the Episodic Lab finalists (August 20 ).  Counter to all my visualization wisdom, I'm not even daring to hope that my co-writers and I will be finalists.  I don't want to be disappointed. 

Is this something I can talk about???  Or is this one of those taboos too ugly, too sad and too gloomy to even mention?

Go Big or Go Bust: Day 199 (musing about the emotional life of birds while I paint the barn)

I was painting the barn this morning and thinking about last night.  We'd been at a friend's house for dinner and I was sitting next to a very successful sculptor.  She mentioned that she was having a hard time with small pieces, that big pieces are easier for her.  (And when she says 'big' she means 'huge'.)  And then she went on, that when she finishes the piece she's working on, she's going to go back to drawing.  The impression I got was that she was going to spend weeks, maybe months, drawing.

Her humility and her acceptance of the trouble she was having surprised me as did her solution to go back to square one.  This is a woman who has shown in the best galleries and been famous for decades.  And that she would talk so frankly about her difficulties moved me, especially because we'd only met one other time.

But aside from being inspired by her openness and her humility, her solution (to go back to drawing) made me jealous.  It's such a simple solution!  Everybody knows that drawing is the basis of visual art.  That's how I got started on the path to becoming an artist and that's what I did at the Beaux-Arts for years, learning to 'see'.  But never having gone to film school, I don't even know what would be the equivalent for a filmmaker.  And BOOM, the answer came flying at me: it would be listening. 

The next thing I heard was the birds above me, a combination of crows and pigeons.  And very quickly, more was revealed: there was a whiner in the group.  Most of the birds were going about their business, talking in a chipper or businesslike way while they got their worm breakfasts ... all except for this one bird.  He sounded like he was feeling very sorry for himself, the bird equivalent of moaning.  And he kept repeating his miserable moan, over ... and over.  And over.  All I could think of was his poor mother who must be embarrassed by his behavior but powerless to control or hide it.  Even if you sent a bird to his room-equivalent, everybody would still have to listen to him. 

And then it hit me that it's likely that birds (and most animals) live in a state of acceptance, that they probably don't even label this bird 'A Whiner'.  It's hard to imagine that they don't recognize that he's got issues, but it seems more likely that they're just "There he goes again."

As this seems to be coming at me from every angle, I'm going to take it as my homework for the day - work on *acceptance*.

Go Big or Go Bust: Day 198 (on the life of a complex female protagonist)

I’ve LOST TOUCH WITH REALITY.  Thought today was Friday and told a friend to 'have a good weekend". 

Thanks to Kate Kaminski of Bluestocking Films for the wonderful t-shirt. 

Go Big or Go Bust: Day 197 (Lesson from the garden - self-confidence from potatoes and courage from a dream)

A number of weeks ago, I mentioned that I'd been down in the basement and the poor potatoes looked like Rapunzel without the benefits of gravity.  My gardening filmmaker friend Marian Evans (of Wellington, New Zealand) advised me to "Stick those spuds in the ground!" (something like that).  And so I did,  I went and dug six inch holes and stuck them in the ground with their 'eye stalks' pointing toward the sky.  These poor potatoes are left over from our crop last Fall and, try as we might, we hadn't gotten around to eating them.  By the summer, they were a little squishy and, as you can see, actively taking matters into their own hands.

early Summer

I finally got around to planting them in early July and a week or so later, was thrilled to see what Marian must have know would happen.  The little stalks had turned green and were even sprouting tiny leaves.

July 11

Look at what's happened in the past three weeks.  One potato produces a whole bush.

Today, August 4

Which brings me to the lesson I got from these potatoes: each one of us, potatoes included, has a yearning to do what we were brought to Earth to do.  And I'm moved by the faith of those potatoes in the basement.  They weren't getting what they needed even though they were giving all the signals that they were ready to get planted ... and still they kept on trying, growing, using up the energy of their potato selves to get to some sunlight.  (There are two very small windows in our basement, just enough to give you hope.) 

It reminds me of a night back in 1985 or 1986 when I sobbed myself to sleep after wailing to Mr. Green that I didn't know what to do anymore, if I was supposed to make a feature film, then okay!  I'll make it but I need money from somewhere.  (I'd been applying for and not-getting a lot of grants.)  Or should I give up on this artist/filmmaker idea and try to get a job in advertising or something?  Or should I devote myself to being a mother and have a whole bunch of kids?  I felt willing, I felt open and I felt desperate to know what I was supposed to do.. 

That night, I had a dream.  It was one  of those dreams which feels important, like a message.  I was in a 1950's type kitchen with a witch.   She wasn't good or bad, but she was powerful and forceful.  She commanded me to make the feature:  "Don't stop now!  You're almost there!" 

That dream gave me a powerful confidence to keep on going.  It wasn't easy and it wasn't finished til the Fall of 1989 but then the film, a feature starring Lea Floden as Louise, got into the Dramatic Competition at the Sundance Festival and the Panorama of the Berlin Festival and forever changed my life.

I'd love to have that kind of dream again.  The difficulty of this job of getting The Louise Log out to a larger audience has me doubting if I should be devoting any more time to it.  On the other hand,  it feels like that's what I'm supposed to be doing.  And then I think of what those potatoes had been going through from January to June.  I bet they had their doubts. 

Go Big or Go Bust: Day 196 (Neither rain nor thunder nor crickets... with Everett Quinton and Marie Christine)

Another day killing it here with this highlights reel.  Three thunderstorms and a cricket (who in the meantime has moved in his whole darn extended family) have made it challenging to do the voice-over...  BUT.  We persisted and the reel is practically ready for sound editing!  I'll be splitting the tracks in the morning.

In gratitude for your patience, here's a screengrab from the highlights reel featuring the father-in-law everyone wants, Ethelred Black, brought to life by the brilliant and irrepressible Everett Quinton.  Behind him is the lovely (beleaguered) director of the Tarzan and Jungle Girl movie, Marie Christine Katz.  

Go Big or Go Bust: Day 195 (Throwback Sunday)

It was the summer of 2013.  You had crowdfunded our production (of Season 3) which was a thrilling first.  Here we are shooting the very exciting and, I might add, hilarious arrival of The Queen.  I'm up to my ears in the highlights reel or would go on and on. 

photo by Karen Sanderson