Words on Wednesday

Many of them spoken today with dignity, promise, inflection and truth.

Genuine.

Hopeful.

Heartfelt.

Some spoke of unity, others sang to melodies with them. Some sang better than others.

But nevertheless … the words mattered. They were weighted today.

Relief.

A sigh of relief for a better future and a hopeful one as we try to climb out of the pit of ugliness and lies. Many of the words today pierced through and exposed the hypocrites sitting, pretending they hadn’t supported lies just two weeks prior. Some expressions didn’t even need words. Their faces spoke, even with masks on.

Words carried weight today.

But the good kind.

I discovered a WordMaster I’d never seen or heard before and so did most of the country, if they were paying attention. Aside from the words after placing their hands on the bible, these words spoken with intention and inflection, based on heart and substance became the highlight. I tipped my hat to this young poet whose creation inspired me as she encouraged us to step up to the plate up to the hill we climbed.

Being able to make someone stop and notice. Pay attention. She could have done that even without a mic. The power in her words so strong, that the impression stays with me, in the goosebumps I felt as she slayed her words.

As a writer I was amazed. Young talent reaching such heights can only grow even more. So I got to know her name … and it was Amanda Gorman. Powerful. Strong. Captivating. Her words sit with me. Deep into my heart, they made me feel.

I watched a young wordmaster perform and she was not even at her peak, still young and living life, yet it was the best performance I’d seen all day. Her future remains unwritten, but I imagine with the way she expresses herself, that won’t be a problem. The future looks promising for her and I’m glad I witnessed this and felt the inspiration.

We’re not broken … just unfinished. We’re bruised but bold.

Yeah … she wrote words like that. And I high-five her.

.

Buen Camino my friends…

.

.

.

Advertisement

Feel Good 5 Friday on a Saturday… The Flip Side

Those butterflies I feel in my heart, it’s the nervousness and anxiety of starting something new. It’s about the fear of failing, the what-the-hell-happens-if-this-is-sucks feeling, the what if this never gets made feeling? It’s part of the dreamer’s disease. Side effects when you’re chasing stars and gravity’s got a hold on you. 

Even in a pandemic these feelings still exist.

But because of the very pandemic, these feelings won’t stop me. They’ll make events and stepping stones a lot more challenging, but not impossible. It’s the vision you gotta keep, the vision and your motivation.

Projects become something to look forward to for everyone, whether it’s planting a garden, learning a new instrument, crocheting a blanket, starting a weight-loss program, a 30-Day Challenge, or writing a new story. Getting jazzed up about it is the first step and I’ve been on fire for a bit, now I get on with the research and storytelling.

I set the goal and I’ve been inching my way, step by step on the broken yellow-brick road. I’m still a ways away, but I do something every day to contribute to the success of this project. Whether I’m researching content online, writing notes, writing story, editing as I go along, getting pictures and notes to help me stay motivated. Every hour helps. Every day. Carve out an appointment with myself to get it done. I’m still worried about not knowing certain technical aspects for the story, but research continues. I’ve even added a side hustle to help me financially. I’m trying to remember, it’s just a way of making it happen.

And just when I hit a bump of discouraging news this week, I thought man, this is gonna suck, don’t know if I got it. Will I get it? I heard the tunes that got me out of some jams. Sitting in my car wondering … and the tunes come out.  I hear the funk, the guitar, and those lyrics jumpstart something in me, the dancing begins and the boost in my confidence. They introduce a different mindset. A positive one. Sitting on the couch thinking, and a feel good song from my childhood occurs to me and it makes me strut, that George Jefferson confidence strut. Makes me feel like I got this! I’m on the flip side. It’s possible. Even if it’s just today, today is the day I need confidence. I’ll deal with tomorrow, tomorrow.

And here I am, continuing that train of thought sending the tunes out in the universe hoping it encourages someone else out there to strut their stuff.

 

The Jeffersons Theme Song — Moving on Up

Oye — Sonora Margarita

Queen — Don’t Stop Me Now

 

Juanes — A Dios le Pido

 

U2 — Beautiful Day

 

Buen Camino my friends …

 

.

.

 

Wednesday Storytellers

It’s not only the fact that it was an incredible story to begin with, it’s the fact that they were finally able to share it, and then tell it in a way where it made people care.

Bobby, Eddie, and David.

Three Identical Strangers.

I felt like this story could have been an episode of Law & Order. But unfortunately it was real.

Now I’m not giving anything away when I say it’s about triplets, who were separated at birth and then miraculously reunited by chance. That you see in the preview. But that’s not the most incredulous part of the story.

It’s the why?

Why did this happen?

The documentary uncovers the sick motives and reveals bit by bit how this impacted their lives and changed their trajectory, for good and for bad. It’s such a powerful story about abuses of power and harm that can come from separating families.

Documentaries, like this, catapult stories onto a stage so that truths can be revealed and action becomes a possibility. Change becomes a possibility.

I wasn’t big on documentaries growing up, and it wasn’t until college, when I took history that I discovered the power of this kind of storyteller. Documentary film makers find a piece of humanity and tap into it so that others can see, feel, and hear, the story. Then questions arise.

I’m not one of those people that celebrates the thousands of channels on television, because it only creates a massive amount of bad reality TV or just bad TV in general. But the one positive of all this expansiveness is that documentaries are more readily available. Streaming stories that I might not have been able to see in the theaters, helps broaden perspective, engage in community activism and gain empathy for struggles, and happiness for triumphs.

I’d had Three Identical Strangers on my watch list for some time. I vaguely remember them in the 80s even though they were on all the news channels and talk shows. I had no idea this was their story. But the sad part was that it wasn’t just them … this happens to so many siblings that it wrecks your heart at the damage that is done when separating kids. It’s not only emotionally damaging, it’s psychological as well.

Separating kids is a huge issue now, but the fact that there was something sinister behind all this makes it even more sickening.

I’m so glad this story exists. I’m glad the producers and director fought hard against the powerful to uncover the truth. The “what if” sickens me, which is why I salute all the documentary storytellers. It’s not always glamorous and filled with Sundance Festival awards. Sometimes the recognition doesn’t exist at all. But the fact that the film was made and the story was told, that’s an achievement right there.

Documentary film makers struggle to find ways to make it happen, but some of them find a way to make it down the yellow-brick road and succeed in shedding light on the human condition. This is such a good story, so if you have streaming services like Amazon, Netflix, or Hulu and I hope you get a chance to watch it.

Buen Camino, my friends

The Battle Between Writer vs. Fan Strikes Again

I stayed away from the internet until I had seen it all and digested it. I was at an emotional standstill. I always need more time when things end like that.

I’d been addicted to it just like I was with Breaking Bad, LOST, 24, The Wire, and Sons of Anarchy. Yeah. I’m talking about the Thrones.

Game of Thrones.

Every good show leaves a bit of longing for the characters. I’m saddened to see them go. Apparently people were pretty angry about the ending and how things unfolded. And if you didn’t see it and went online … forget it! The story was ruined.

I find that logging onto Facebook is a horrible idea. I can’t do that to myself after season finales. I can’t do that to myself in general. It’s bad for morale.

People’s opinions running rampant and how they would have named this person King or this person Queen, or how this person should or should not have died.

Someone always has to die in the end. It’s part of the story. If it makes for a heart-wrenching moment that crushes you, well then the writers did a GOOD job. That means you were invested in this character and in their life. You were drawn into the world they created and you were enjoying the ride. The writers made something from nothing and made you care so much about it that you got angry or sad (I mean, granted it was based on a book) but the writers helped create a story that mattered.

Now don’t get me wrong … I’m all for closure and not leaving things up in the air. Everybody hates that, it just cheapens the story and you feel like you were cheated out of something real.

But I’ve got to say, other than feeling a little rushed this season, I really enjoyed and sympathized with the characters. I’d always loved Jon Snow and Arya, and followed Danny’s story closely. These characters, along with Ned Stark, were my favorites. I rooted for them, and hoped for them. I’d gotten attached.

And while watching this amazingness of Game of Thrones, I was just reminded of how important the story is … story matters. Storytellers are important and being one is a good thing. I just have to keep going … and not get discouraged. Not everyone will appreciate your story or its ending, but that’s all right not everyone enjoyed the ending of GOT and it was one of the best shows ever.

The writers felt this was the best way to end it for these characters and as a fan I always struggle with those choices if I love the show and its characters. The battle between fan and writer. It strikes again. They battle between these two is fierce especially if there is a death at the end … and it’s someone I truly rooted for the entire journey. But in the end the writer in me edged out the fan because it was for the good of the story.

So? How was your season finale?

Burn Camino my friends!!

Writer Wednesday’s: Storytellers at Their Best

The good ones are found in the nooks and crannies if you look hard enough, and I found one today. A good one.

You see most people think they can tell a story, and some can. But only a few are really good storytellers, the kind you get curious about, the kind you want to get to know. Chris Stapleton for instance. He hit the country scene a few years ago and people were wowed with his songs and ability to tell it with heart and soul. Paulo Cohelo and Laura Esquivel weaved journeys into epic stories that captured my attention and inspired. Kurt Sutter with his Sons of Anarchy and Vince Gillian with Breaking Bad imagined worlds with deep, complex, strong and flawed characters in powerful stories that humbled me as a writer.

You get stories in songs, books, TV shows, and movies every one of them requires a special something. I like it when I discover or remember one. I see them and it inspires me to get off my ass and be better.

And that’s what happened today.

As I mentioned in previous posts, I recently was gifted a Hulu subscription, and found a new treasure chest of stories. Some good, others not really my style. And in this search to find the good I rediscovered my interest in documentaries. I watched a couple great ones, but the one that stood out today was Page One: Inside the The New York Times. I imagine it may be similar to the one I have yet to see, The Fourth Estate, but focuses on different parts of the journalistic world.

Page One: Inside the New York Times

In this story I found the great storyteller I had forgotten about I had lost. David Carr is a gritty, humble, and staunch defender of journalistic integrity and the freedom of the press. But beyond that he was a great storyteller, based in truth, and I was reminded of that after watching the film, and inspired to continue my journey no matter how difficult it may be at times.

It’s a difficult period for the press, especially when it’s being attacked by people who don’t like being called out on their lies and who fail to take responsibility for their actions in addition to those complicit in their behavior or cover-up. The press, when it’s at its best, acts as a mirror and uncovers the truth behind the dark corners of what people are hiding. Some people confuse news stories with columnists and that at times is the problem. There is a difference. One is news, one is opinion. People forget. The press itself  is a good check and balance for those in power. And I’m glad that this documentary reveals the hard work that goes into being a reporter.

I especially admired Carr, who at one point in his life hit the ultimate low personally and professionally, but was able to turn the corner and find something he was passionate about: storytelling. He not only asked questions, but he asked the right questions. And that’s when you know you have a good one, because not only are they passionately curious and smart, but they’re in this invested in this quest for truth.

When you witness someone bring that sense of integrity and honesty to storytelling, it gut-checks you and makes you wonder, where’s your story?

And so I find myself getting back to it.

 

Buen Camino, my friends!

 

 

Discovering Family Table Stories

It was a booklovers epic weekend, and I was lucky enough to catch some good stories.

Walking from tent to tent and under the realization that IT was possible was inspiring. All kinds of authors with stories to share, and I was among them. Poetry slams, murals, art demonstrations, book signings, and guest lectures yielded creative nooks and crannies for everyone to absorb.

All this positive energy continued to hold its grasp on me all weekend long. I didn’t get a chance to catch a couple of the journalist or novelists as the kids wanted to explore their own lively storytellers. But I did enjoy the humor and honesty of Mike Epps’s journey. My favorite however, were the stories I discovered on the cooking stage.

The Smollett Family featured some of the recipes from their book The Family Table. The intertwining of food, stories, and family made me want to join in at their table. I had never heard of them before, but was glad to have experienced their story. It was a fun peek into the lives of these siblings and the importance of  how food played a role in keeping the bonds of family stronger.

Stories were the backdrop to every dish, like the oyster po’boys and how that dish reminded them of New Oreleans and their family roots. How every dish they learned to cook originated from the times spent with their mama in the kitchen, and the love she gave them.

It wasn’t happiness I was seeing, but joy. I had forgotten what joy looked like in the kitchen because it’s been a madhouse rush for me for a long time during meal times. But seeing this helped me remember to find time to slow down, maybe not every day, but definitely on weekends.

I enjoyed seeing the stories, laughter, and love come through their recipes. I thought … I hope my kids think of me like that. I hope they remember their favorite dishes, aromas, tastes and the stories that came with them. I hope they feel that way — that stories and food go hand in hand, that stories bind you at the Family table.

I was hoping …

One day at a time … one day at time.

I’ll find out in 20 years.

 

Buen Camino my friends.

 

 

Finding My Storyteller Again.

I’d been inspired to be a better person. I’d been inspired to be a better parent. I’d been inspired to make a difference. Books, movies, documentaries, and shows have all had the power to affect this kind of change. But it’s been a long time since I’ve been inspired to be a better storyteller.

See the last time I felt this way, was when I finished Randy Pausch’s The Last Lecture. That amazing book inspired me to be a better person and  better dreamer. It uncovered the importance of being a good storyteller and passing on those life lessons and anecdotes to the people who mattered most. And of course, it came at the right time … You know, just when I needed it. The universe helping me out, trying to get me on the right track.

That was a long time ago … And then Mitch Albom resurfaced.

You see, I hadn’t felt like a better storyteller in a long time, but this book … this book turned up the gears and found its way onto my path. And it found me just in time.

The first time I read Mitch Albom, his book Tuesdays with Morrie, changed my trajectory. It helped me look for the lessons and wisdom that were passing me by, helped me listen to the stories and advice that my Dad, my mentor, and other good friends were trying to pass onto me. It helped me appreciate.

The next book I discovered, helped me to chase my own stories, make-believe and true. I was caught up in Frankie Presto’s story and his amazing life. I hadn’t heard of The Magic Strings of Frankie Presto, but I was so glad I went looking for “something,” to read. I found it. Now that I’ve read it, I feel sad that I might not have come across it. It’s one of those amazing things you’re so glad happened that you get a little sad, because it could have almost never happened.

But it did. And I’m glad.

As a storyteller, I can appreciate how it is so beautifully crafted, woven with hints and clues and then everything connecting with the big reveal. I loved the mixing of jazz legends, musicians, and artists that came into Frankie’s life and how Frankie changed their lives. I enjoyed the different points of view and voices. I thought it interesting that Music, itself, was a character, the narrator.

Frankie’s journey across the globe, his musical and love adventure, drew me in right away. I loved this character, his passion, his humble kindness, his quest, his life lessons, his love for his guitar, the magic behind the six strings, and his love for Aurora. I rooted for him. I wished for things to happen for him. I wished for him to find his story, to know about his father, his teacher, his past, and his future. I rooted for his redemption and for his love of Aurora.

Throughout his journey I was inspired to find any lost stories of my own, stories of my father, of his childhood, stories that I never knew that could tell me something more. I was inspired to write something new. I also felt like writing my own stories, so that my kids would know my own adventure, so they could fill in the gaps when I was gone. I wanted to leave them something.

Frankie Presto reminded me how important stories are, and the importance of passing them onto the people that matter. Frankie Presto helped me find my storyteller again. When a book can do that, it’s pretty awesome. I hope he does something magical for you too.

Buen Camino my friends.

 

 

 

Writer Wednesday on a Monday: Bad Memories and Gratitude

I had completely forgotten about it … but then I got the text message, and I couldn’t believe it had almost been a year.

A friend of mine had asked about our yearly tailgating college football reunion adventure, and as with everything else in life, the details were posted on almighty Facebook. I don’t go on there much, don’t really like to, but I needed the information and just as I was clicking over to her site the “memories-flash-from-the past” post of 1-year-ago-today was on the screen.

A bad taste from a sour ending was still there. I had forgotten about it. Life had gone on, but this brought it back and I remembered it all over again.

It was the announcement from my play, the one I was extremely proud of, the one I entrusted to my friend to help me produce and the one I had to pull from the showcase because well … sometimes friends surprise you … in bad ways. Creative differences was the nice way I described it.

And there it was on Facebook, letting me know that a year ago the posters went up and rehearsals were in full swing, only to have no one see it or hear it. No one to witness that story and considering the climate we’re in today, it would have been an extremely powerful and funny story. It would have been my uncle’s Erick’s story and how my Dad had a hand in it.

So, a year later and what’s happened?

I didn’t participate in the showcase this year, I knew there would be another one, but because of the way things ended I felt that it would be best not to put my creative energies in an untrustworthy situation. So I didn’t bother submitting, and the funny thing was that my old friend, whom I haven’t spoke with since it happened, hadn’t mentioned it either.

So while my friend has continued to act within the theater troupe and remain close that director, I have not. He’s done well and continues to work on his craft, even wrote a piece himself, which will apparently be featured in the showcase this year, something that I found out through the world wide web. But I can’t say it surprised me. It was an interesting turn of events.

But instead of getting upset I remembered what I had done during that time.

I didn’t write a new piece this year, but I’ve spent the time editing, painstakingly editing one I’ve been trying to finish for a long time now. This news has sort of given me that inspiration, that extra push to finish this. Nothing like remembering something bad to help you do something good.

But it also helped me remember something that never made it onto Instagram or Facebook or the world wide web. Something that only a few handful of people knew about, and it might not have happened on stage with actors, and I might not have taken a bow with crowds clapping and smiling at me. But it did happen, and I was thankful for that accomplishment. I was grateful that the grant I wrote for my kids school, the one I recently submitted was selected for a large chunk of change. The money would be used to help fund a new year-round arts-in-residence program featuring drama, music, and craftsmanship artistry for the entire school.

There was a ceremony downtown, the kind with pictures and one of those big cardboard Price-is-Right’s checks, but I didn’t go.

I was happy with the text message I received from the coordinator, telling me she had just received a congratulatory email. We got it, she said. We got it!

And I smiled.

It wasn’t a stage play or a book reading. It wasn’t the creative endeavor I had hoped on accomplishing this year. But it was the year I brought creative experiences to a lot kids and with just that small piece of good news I felt like the year wasn’t wasted.

I didn’t help myself, but I helped someone and that felt good.

Buen Camino my friends.

 

 

Writer Wednesdays … Literary High-Five

Sometimes you’re just in a funk, and you can’t find the right words for your characters or feel like that missing piece is never going to fall in place.  You have no idea where the writer inside disappeared to, then all of sudden you write a letter, an email, or do a different type of writing  and you get the groove back.

I’m getting my groove back.

IWSG

 

Recently, I had a blogging buddy of mine Jacqueline Cangro edit one of my manuscripts and let me tell you, having someone read something like that gave me the butterflies. I mean I know that eventually it’s going to be out there for everyone to see, and some close friends of mine have seen parts, if not all of it. But Jackie was going to edit it … really edit it. So I was nervous. I was like … dude what if she hates it? Will she ever return to my blog? Or how will she let me down easy. I was creating all kinds of scenarios in my head, but none of them panned out.

Jackie was really nice about it and spoke with me about my concerns. Sh did an amazing detailed job with content analysis, story and characterization. I was so glad to have met Jackie. Her advice was on point and I could feel the missing pieces coming together.

But I’ll be honest with you, rewriting and rewriting after edits and edits became a daunting task, even with the awesomeness that is Jackie. I got a little nervous. I didn’t want to veer too far off course, I didn’t want to get lost in all the editing that I couldn’t find my way back. And then the universe sent me a sign.

A friend of mine asked me to write a grant proposal for arts programs at my son’s school. Now normally I don’t get involved with the Mommy Mafia or the PTA clicks, which she is a part of,  but seeing how this was a close buddy and it was for a great cause I thought it would be a great service for the community and a good opportunity for a pause in novel re-writing plan.

So I took a step back from my 100th rewrite and did something good for someone else. During that process I learned that tapping a different avenue of my talents, helped stir up the writing mojo in all areas of my life. Writing about advocacy and arts engagement helped boost my own focus. Being able to write a cohesive statement that had nothing to do with my crazy character and her journey, helped glue ideas together in the recesses of my mind, and make things click. I was making connections and feeling confident about the fine-tuning that was going on.

And this is where I find myself.

I find myself looking back on how I turned the corner and I never would have guessed that grant writing or executive summaries would have the power of a high-five, because that’s what it was … a literary high-five. After I finished writing it … I thought damn! That was me … I put these words together. I conveyed how critical arts were for inventiveness and out-of-the box thinking. I put together a piece that speaks to the heart of this school and the need for arts education despite financial cutbacks. I convinced someone, I persuaded them to give money … and just with words. They hadn’t even met me yet. All they knew were my words.

And that seemed to be pretty powerful stuff. That seemed to be the make-up of a writer. That seemed to put be back on the yellow-brick road pathway.

So while, I’m still working on the grant, which will be due in a couple of days, I feel that time away from my story, spent working on a different discipline, has helped bring the story back full circle. I don’t know if any other writers experienced something like that, because I figured people get inspired or back into the story, by being away from it for a moment, taking a trip somewhere and then coming back from that sabbatical refreshed ans zoned in, but it was my first way down that road. And I’ve got to say, it was interesting.

 

Buen Camino

 

 

Writer Wednesdays on a Monday: Turning Things Around

It’s like hearing that song on the radio and you just stop because you feeeeeeeeeel the lyric.  You feel George Harrison. You feel Mavis Staples. You feel Springsteen. You feel Hall and Oates. You feel Phil Collins. You feel Chris Stapleton. You feel Juan Gabriel. You feel Ana Gabriel. You feel Katrina and The Waves.

It is in you. You feel like it was written just for you, and you sit there in your car at the stop light listening.

Them words.

You think to yourself, maaaaaaaan. They got this one right. The lyric, combined with the music. They got this one.

Then you go back to your keyboard, inspired, hoping that you can put something like that on the page. You want to make someone laugh, smile, feel your heart through your characters. And sometimes it happens … other times … you fail miserably because you just can’t get it. It’s not there. You thought you had it with all that inspiration jazzing you up, but then you lost it because of a phone call, bad memory, or wasted time. Lack of discipline attacks you on Wednesday after you had the umph to get you through Monday and Tuesday.

Burn.

I hate it when that happens.

So how is it that I try to turn things around? Especially on a Monday?

I try to remember that waking up wasn’t an accident. It was on purpose, for something bigger than just fixing lunches, dropping off kids, and racing through traffic. There has to be more that I leave my kids than memories.

Pieces of me in my writing out there for them to read and get. Whether on my laptop, in my notebooks, posts, or published writings. Something of me is out there for them to see, to get, that I’m on the star map chasing the Milky Way and hoping I land.

So when I feel like dropping it because I’ve dropped the ball as a writer and haven’t found the nooks and crannies of time to write every day, I remember not everybody is on the same ride. I’ve got all kinds of detours and stops on mine. It may take a little longer, but I’ll get there. As long as I don’t give up.

So I don’t.

I get the Andre Agassi in me … ready to make a comeback.

It’s bigger than me. That’s what I think … I can’t walk around six months from now and still be in the same spot, because it’s bigger than me. I’ve got my Zen back and it took me a loooooooooooonnnnnng time to rework my magic with this crazy environment and lack of support, with the failing of my awesome play earlier this year. I thought things would spark after that. It took a while to find my center … a lot of podcasts.

But I found it.

I woke up and remembered … waking up was not an accident. Turn the corner.

Buen Camino my friends.

 

 

IWSG