Photo credit: Marcy "QOS" Sacarakis
I think it's about time to pull the ideas off of the dusty shelf, these kernels of great script that have yet to sprout within the trappings of my imagination. A number of them have sat there, waiting patiently, arms crossed, feet tapping, eyes rolling: "When, oh when," they lament, "will the dreamy scribe choose me, give me the chance to pass through her birthing canal, purge me from her channel of inner-love, allow me to finally breathe?"
A writer's ideas are her children, tender souls to which she gives life. She develops them, nurtures them, feeds them, watches them grow. Or, she ignores them, finds other ways to bide her time. But thus, certain death awaits them, for they die with her.
When I earned my keep as a full-time writer, I spent the majority of those 15 years exploring the lives of people (and the deaths of some) at the direction and guidance of editors. More often than not, these stories were the invention of others. (Although, the feature on the lonely typewriter salesman at Herbert's was completely mine; I felt justified years later when another reporter rewrote the same piece. Of course, the original work - mine - clearly read better. Clearly...) Still, I realize that, even if many of the ideas were not begotten by my wits, I could inflect my tone, voice, and style, stamp them as my own.
But now that I'm in another career, one in which I guide and teach young writers, I feel the nagging need to explore the bigger picture, the ideas that extend beyond print journalism, the ideas that awake me in the middle of the night to search for the pencil and pad beside my bed. And so it is time to listen to the seeds for novels and screenplays that softly tap on my shoulder. They need my attention. For to ignore them would be to ignore my need to give them life, and to ignore a large part of my being.
For the better part of three years, my mentor has been gently chiding me - with more seriousness than I originally thought - to partner with her for some publishing venture. And after the stresses that I've been encountering, I realize that I truly need to usher my talents in a new direction, one that we both know would enmesh rather beautifully with her gift for photography.
So with the New Year upon us, I hereby resolve that I will:
A: work to develop a joint venture of our talents.
B: give Bud Greene, Life Coach, a shot at life.